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marc-spectorr · 2 days ago

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reed my babyyyyy!! i loved reading every word of this. this is writing perfection at its finest 🤍

In the Grass

summary: reed has a rough time slowing down.

pairing: reed richards x f!reader

contents: single father!reed richards, i love sue but she is dead here 🫶🏾, flirting, anxiety, kissing

wc: 1,196

an: first reed richards fic of many i hope, so go easy on me. i love him sooooo bad your honor <3

pedro pascal characters masterlist

Ben and Johnny had been encouraging Reed to get out, to see and live life for over a year.

He’s faced many things; black holes and time warps, and interdimensional collapse. Space monsters the size of skyscrapers, the loss of love, the weight of being a single father.

And now he’s facing you— or rather, the idea of pursuing you. The way you two met is something he’ll always have mixed feelings about.

One day Ben dropped him at a random coffee shop stating that he’d pick him up in a few hours. There was no discussion, no clarity or questions to be asked. Reed could’ve made his way home, stretching across the bustling city but he decided to give it a shot.

He doesn’t even like coffee, he much prefers tea but the moment he laid his eyes on you and felt your enthusiasm he knew something was shifting.

Coming to your coffee shop, hearing your passion about creativity, the unexpected and the unique has become a weekly routine. You listen to him too, ranting and working through ideas and worries with a soft gentle look on your face. No judgement, but with care despite your limited understanding.

And after about two months of ordering increasingly unnecessary beverages— your chili mocha had nearly sent him to a cardiac arrest— you made the first move, handing him a napkin with your number written in purple pen and a doodle of a caffeinated black hole.

“In case your research ever gets too lonely.”

Reed kept the napkin in his pocket for three days before texting. He spent another three designing the “perfect” date.

Now, as he so often does, he’s spiraling.

You’re already sitting on the blanket when he finally forces himself to breathe and stop triple-checking the air quality index. You’re in a flowy skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, bare feet in the grass. Your curls are caught in the breeze, your skin sun-sparkled. You look like summer. You look happy.

To with him or to be here? He swallows hard. Could he be like that for you?

You gaze over at him as if you can hear his gears turning. “You brought, let’s see how many, six kinds of cheese?” you laugh as he sets down the insulated tote like it’s carrying nuclear samples.

He blinks, talking slowly, “I wasn’t sure about dietary restrictions. I accounted for lactose tolerance, casein preference, vegan alternatives…”

You lean over the spread and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

His mouth opens and closes without a sound as he effectively short-circuits. You let him.

For a while, it goes well. You eat and talk in hushed voices, heads close together. You make fun of his perfectly color-coded snack containers. Reed even makes you laugh when he admits he used a drone to test for ant colonies before choosing this picnic spot.

Eventually, the quiet sets in. There is nothing but birdsong and breeze, and the ease between you. No background hum of lab equipment. No city traffic. No panels to check, no data to stream, no Franklin. Just stillness. But in creeps that urgency, that discomfort that Reed always operates from.

He tries his best to mask it, but you notice—of course you do. Despite your easy going nature you’ve done nothing but notice everything about Reed from the moment you met him.

His shoulders tighten. His fingers twitch. He drops his fork and hesitates to pick it up.

“Reed?”

“I’m—fine,” he says, voice brittle. “Just adjusting. I’m used to more… control.”

You crawl closer, easy and slow, until you’re on your knees beside him.

“May I?” you ask, tilting your head toward his lap.

His brows furrow. “May you—?”

You climb into his lap gently, straddling him without urgency. He stiffens at first, overwhelmed by your sweet smell and smile, but you press your palms flat against his chest and say, “Breathe with me.”

His hands hover awkwardly at your waist before he lets them rest on the curve of you.

You exhale slowly. Once and again, over and over until his breath catches the rhythm and his heart stops racing.

“You don’t have to be perfect, you know,” you murmur. “You don’t have to host a TED talk to impress me. You just have to be here.”

His lashes flutter. His mouth opens, but again nothing comes out.

You okay?” you ask.

His nod is tiny, eyes fixed on your face with wonder. “You’re…very close.”

“Mhm. I am.”

His hands tighten just slightly, not possessive, just grounding himself. “And this is really happening?”

“I sure hope so,” you tease softly. “I like you, Reed. Even when you’re fidgety and when you over-plan. But especially when you look at me like that.”

His head tilts. “Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me but haven’t decided if that’s statistically wise.”

He wants to—you can see it in the tension of his jaw, in the way his eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes and back again. But he’s calculating something in his head, running variables, anticipating failure.

You wait a beat, letting him go through his moments, letting him be himself. But then you cup his cheek and whisper, “Let me do the math this time.”

The kiss starts slow and uncertain. Your lips press against his like a question, not wanting to scare him away. It’s him that shifts forward and catches your waist like you might vanish, opening his mouth to you.

In every sense of the word, he melts.

You could never prepare for the way his whole body slackens beneath you. How quiet and desperate the sound he makes is when your tongue slides against his. You pull back just enough to look at him.

“Reed?” you whisper.

He’s pink-cheeked and dazed, pupils blown, lips parted. “You scramble my brain more than a multiverse collapse,” he breathes.

Your smile is slow, reverent. “I’m pretty good then, hmm? Let’s see what else I can undo.”

You kiss him again, harder this time, and his grip on your waist tightens. When you rock forward he moans—soft, like he’s not used to the noise. His hands itch to roam, but eventually hover like he’s scared to touch too much. So scared to do the wrong thing. In his fear you guide him, sliding them just under your shirt to let him feel your skin. Feel how warm and raw and real this is.

The blanket beneath you rustles, the plates clatter and birds call. None of it matters because he feels lost in time with you.

You kiss him until he’s flushed and trembling beneath you, until he’s clinging to you like gravity had failed him. When you finally break away, he leans forward and buries his face in your neck.

“You okay?” you ask, combing your fingers through his silky hair.

He nods, quiet for a moment before saying, “You’re very…stimulating.”

You laugh. “Not a complaint, I hope.”

He shakes his head, lips brushing your collarbone. “No. Just… new input.”

You kiss the top of his head, holding him a little closer. “Plenty more where that came from.”

pedro characters taglist: @lesbianhotch, @ozarkthedog, @lowrisemiller, @iamthatonefangirl, @campingwiththecharmings, @stargazingcarol, @megamindsecretlair, @nerdieforpedro, @fakeplasticfeels, @for-a-longlongtime, @bubblybubbubs, @jxvipike, @veritable-trash, @yesjazzywazzylove-blog, @lowrisemiller, @ficsavin, @diedorleft, @meetmeatyourworst, @amyispxnk, @marc-spectorr, @luzhesrozes, @arsonhotchner, @ashmiller, @hotchshands, @sidkneeeee

#fic recs: reed richards

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marc-spectorr · 9 days ago

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ahh thank you so so much for reading!! there will def be more parts to this, five to be exact. i’m hoping to start working on part 2 as soon as i get this reed fic out of my system ((:

𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 - 𝑰.

pairing: joel miller x gn!reader

summary: the first time joel almost said “i love you,” the truth had just dawned on him.

warnings: 4.4k wc. fluff + but more so angst. soft & yearning but still very much afraid of his feelings!joel. mentions of anxiety, past canon events. s2 doesn’t exist here.

a/n: hiya here’s my first joel fic/mini series! it’s written in a 5+1 plot format which i decided to split into separate parts. not sure when the next part will be written as i'm mentally preparing myself for the reed richards brain-rot that will probably happen next week lmao.

feedback is much appreciated (but pls be gentle tho bc i haven’t written anything in over a year). hope you enjoy!

Autumn has become Joel's favorite time of the year.

Sitting on his front porch in the early morning hours, he has come to enjoy the slow and quiet start of it all: the first beams of sunlight breaking through the cloudy horizon, the light crisp in the air carried by the breeze. It dances through each tree, rustling the last of its dry leaves off the branches.

He’s never noticed just how vibrant their colors are—how the crimson hues are much deeper, the amber tones a touch warmer than he last recalled.

Joel’s not entirely used to it yet. The freedom to stop and soak in the beauty standing there in front of him. Strange to think that two years ago, life had been different. Gone are the days of working long, grueling hours, earning ration cards that barely afforded him much. Back when he snuck in and out of the QZ, smuggling just to keep his lights on and pass the time. Then there had come the task of taking Ellie to the Fireflies, and the pain and loss that had risen from that.

In between all those and settling down in Jackson for good, there hasn't been a whole lot of time to slow down, breathe, and live. There was no room to do so when survival was the sole thing at the forefront of his mind.

He thought it would never end. Thought that he would never get the chance to rest, to have a life resembling a version of the past. He was proven wrong when he set foot in this town. It took a while to adjust—and he still is— but he has never felt safer. Never needed to be on a constant high alert, primed to fight off infected or worse.

Here in Jackson, there's running hot water in the shower, fresh meals every day, and comfortable beds—actual ones with clean mattresses and pillows and blankets. It feels so normal, as if this town had been left untouched by the horrors all these years. Kids went to school, neighborhoods hosted potlucks and parties. There are even movie nights held every week at the makeshift theater.

While threats continue to exist beyond the gates, they no longer plague everyone's mind at every minute of every hour. Fear doesn’t hold them back anymore. The community thrives; people are happy, and life moves freely along with the changing seasons.

And Joel... Joel has time again. So much time, and a family— old, new, and found. He's got a nice house with a white picket fence. He has a job in town and has even fallen back into some of his past hobbies.

He has a purpose, has much more to live for now.

If only Sarah could see how far he’s come along.

Joel reckons she would be proud of him. Remembering her doesn't torment him as much as it once did. What used to be a searing pain slicing through his heart has now mellowed into an ache that throbs from time to time. He supposed the journey with Ellie had begun healing the decades-old wound of loss. No longer does it bleed him dry.

Sarah would have loved it here. He imagines her getting along so well with Ellie that the two would undoubtedly conspire against him, driving him crazy, just as any teenage girl would with her father. She would have doted over her baby cousin Benjamin, admired her new aunt Maria, and teased her uncle Tommy for finally settling down.

And he thinks— no, he knows that Sarah would have adored you.

You, his closest friend and patrol partner. The most kind-hearted and patient person there is in all of Jackson, who’s always there to lend a hand or be a shoulder to cry on. Who could brighten up an entire room just by stepping inside of it.

You’re a constant in Joel’s life these days. What started out as a simple camaraderie stemming from daily patrols together has turned into something much more. You started coming over for dinners at least once a week, volunteered to tutor Ellie in your spare time, and even helped him look after Benji when Tommy and Maria needed a night off.

Then there are the little things Joel began to notice: how his eyes linger on you a beat longer than he realizes, the way his heart picks up a fraction when he hears the sound of your voice. More than once, he has caught himself smiling when you entered his thoughts, just like he was doing right at this moment.

He can't seem to shake you off. Not that he wants to.

It's complicated. He is complicated.

For years, Joel kept his distance from others. Locked away his emotions behind thick, impenetrable walls. He didn't let anyone get close to him; he couldn't.

When Sarah died, he’d come to believe that attachment was a liability. That it led to weakness, an open invitation for hurt. It’s why things with Tess never went any further than what she had wished, much to his regret.

But after Ellie had chipped away at those defenses— melted down Joel's cold, hardened exterior— warming up to you came surprisingly natural for him.

Joel admires you, or at least that's what he calls this feeling. He's at a loss trying to explain it, to make sense of it. It is admiration, isn't it?

He admires how you treat Ellie, how you genuinely care for her along with Tommy and his family, and every single person in town. You’re dedicated, loyal. Someone people can always count on. Someone who remembers the small things they say and makes them feel seen.

He admires the way you carry yourself outside of the safety of Jackson. Confident and headstrong, as if what's out there should be wary of you instead. You work well with Joel on patrols, already knowing how to handle yourself and keep up with his pace from the start. You're sharp and fierce, and one hell of a crack shot. Perhaps even better than he is, though he won't admit that out loud yet.

Most of all, Joel admires your kindness towards him, as if it were something rare, almost sacred. You soften out all the rough edges of him, bringing out a side of him that he thought had died the night of the outbreak. Even Tommy remarked at one point how he's changed from the man he once was, thanks to you. Joel had only hummed in response to that, but deep down, he knew that much was true.

Yes, it's merely admiration. A quiet reverence, an appreciation. Fondness. The kind of affection that Joel would have for any other friend. What else could it be?

You continue to linger in Joel’s head as the skies shift from streaks of pale pink to a wave of soft blue.

The rest of the town stirs awake, leaving their homes to go on about their day. Joel's unsure of what to do for his. He's not scheduled for patrol this weekend, and he hadn't planned on anything beforehand to occupy his time. He figures you'll drop by in the next couple of hours, just as you usually do on your days off, as if it's routine.

Joel never minds your company. In fact, he's looking forward to it more than he lets on.

Then, as if his endless thoughts alone had summoned you, there you are, coming into view. Real and radiant as you walk down the pathway cutting through his front yard.

Joel doesn't know what to make of the gentle flutter stirring in his chest as he watches you. There’s a gravity to your presence, a magnetic pull that compels him to stand from his seat and meet you halfway on the porch steps.

“Morning, Joel,” you chirp, looping an arm around his shoulders to reel him in for a hug. It lasts for a few short seconds, your sweet honey scent clinging to Joel’s senses even after you pull away. The smile that blooms across your lips is wide and bright, he swears it could eclipse the sun.

"Mornin' to you, too," he greets, unable to help the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "What brings you 'round here? Thought you'd sleepin' in. It's our day off, remember?"

"Yeah, well, like you, I'm allergic to waking up past the crack of dawn. Habits are hard to break, I guess," you answer with a small shrug. "Plus, I got a surprise for you. It couldn't wait any longer."

Joel tilts his head, brows furrowing as he inspects the palm-sized burlap sack you lift up for him to see.

You incline your head towards the bag, a silent cue for him to take it, which he does. His fingers gently graze against yours, and he feels something fleeting yet undeniable. A brief spark that travels up the entire length of his arm upon contact. He exhales a hushed breath as his hand works steadily to pull back the drawstring, revealing its contents.

Immediately, Joel catches the familiar, rich, nutty aroma. He doesn't need to look further inside. His eyes meet yours, disbelief settling over his features as he processes what you have just given to him.

"It'll brew about ten cups, give or take. Maybe fifteen if you ration it wisely. But it's definitely more than you currently have."

"W-Where'd you find these?" He asks, completely struck with awe at you managing to get hold of coffee beans, a rare luxury in this world these days.

It's been exactly six months and ten days since Joel had the pleasure of indulging in a cup. Jackson's usual coffee supplier had come up empty-handed these last trade visits, giving no indication when it would be available again, and that was if it ever would be.

You could say he's gone nearly stir crazy ever since.

"I worked my magic around," you reply. Joel feels your eyes sweep over his face, as if carefully studying every feature. He doesn't miss the subtle curl of your lips either. "I found someone who did me a big solid and got me in contact with a guy living down south. Took forever to get here though— this was supposed to be your present last Christmas."

A soft chuckle bubbles out of Joel. “Got tired of me complainin’, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you agree teasingly. “Don’t think there was ever a day when you didn’t mention how desperate you were for a cup. You were starting to turn into a big grump again without it.”

“Wha— really?”

You let out a snort, answering with a lighthearted tone. “Yes, really— you snapped at the tea I offered you one time, called it a cup of boiling disappointment.”

“Not gonna take those words back. Tea just doesn’t hit the spot like coffee does,” Joel says with a playful glint in his eye. “But thank you, darlin’. You don’t gotta go through all that trouble for me.”

"I don't mind. From the looks of it, it was very much worth it," you murmur, your hand unexpectedly moving to rest on Joel's arm, giving him a light squeeze.

It could have been nothing other than a friendly gesture, though it's the kind of touch that makes him wonder if there's more behind it when you don't let go right away.

There's a quiet beat that stretches on for many more. It's only then that Joel notices how close the two of you stand before each other, neither seeming to dare step away. The air between you feels different now, charged with something else unspoken.

Almost on its own accord, Joel’s hand reaches for you, pausing just shy above your cheek in uncertainty, as if he’s suddenly become aware of what he’s doing. He swallows thickly, and right before he could draw his hand back, your fingers are curling around his wrist.

Not to push him away, no. Slowly, you lead his touch to your face like he had intended to— a silent invitation, a permission, a plea.

Your skin is soft under the palm of his hand. Joel swears he could feel the warmth of you spread throughout him. It sinks past his bones and seeps deeper inside until finding a tender corner of his heart. His thumb brushes a slow, delicate line along your cheek, and your breath hitches, your eyes closing briefly as if to savor this as much as he is.

With a whisper of your name, Joel gently coaxes your eyes open again, having missed them in the fleeting seconds he couldn’t see them. And when they finally reconnect with his, he instantly falls into a daze, caught in an enchantment that lives within you.

Here, time doesn't pass, the wind all around stills, the earth doesn’t move an inch.

Here, all the pieces came together, clicking into place.

Joel can finally see this for what it is.

In a moment of sudden clarity, the words he’s been searching for are there, flashing in his head. Three of them. One with four letters bearing the most weight.

Of course, he hadn't recognized it at first, having only experienced it once a lifetime ago: Sarah's mother. He'd forgotten what it was like, resigned to the fact that it'd never find him again, had he wished for it to in the first place.

But perhaps deep down, there's a part of Joel that did. Because here it was, staring back at him from the depths of your eyes.

It has found him. Rather, you did.

"Joel, you okay? You look like you've seen a clicker."

Your voice is lost to Joel. Drowned in the thunderous pounding of his heartbeat. His mind moves slower than the rest of him. He licks his lips and parts them unconsciously, not knowing of what's about to fall.

And when they do, they start to spill without so much of an effort to hold them back:

“I l—”

“—Joel? Joooel? Where the hell are you man? I can’t find my red hoodie anywhere.”

Like hot, burning lightning, it’s then that everything strikes Joel all at once. The revelation, the near-confession, Ellie's abrupt appearance.

Her voice pierces the moment, breaking the spell Joel was bound to. He snaps back into reality, his throat working, mouth dry. He doesn’t mean to, but he takes a shaky step back, the wooden floorboard of his porch creaking as he does.

Gaze darting away from yours, Joel drags his hand over his face. There's a storm inside his head. A hurricane of panic and doubt threatens to consume him, if it hasn't done so already.

It was love. It has always been love all this time. Woven into every glance, every word, every moment shared together underneath the sun and the stars.

You aren’t just a friend to him. He had crossed that line without even realizing it.

Fuck.

And Joel hadn’t braced for the truth crashing over him like a tidal wave, pulling him beneath the surface. Maybe he has been too afraid to name it, too cowardly to accept it. He doesn't know how to process it, what to do next. He has no idea how you would—

Oh no.

You.

Joel’s eyes frantically flit over to you, desperate to catch the expression on your face. Worry swells in the pit of his stomach. Could you tell what he was about to lay bare? No, he hopes you didn’t. He hopes that he hasn’t messed up what was precious between you and him.

But you’re not looking at him anymore. Your attention veers past him, pointed at someone else.

“Ellie, hi!”

There's that usual lightness to your tone when you speak. You seem to be unaffected, oblivious to Joel's inner turmoil. He releases a breath, relief flooding him. He glances over his shoulder, and standing behind him is Ellie, her head peeking out from the front door. She steps outside, innocently unaware of what she had walked in on.

He goes to clear his throat.

“Sorry, kiddo. What were you—”

Joel doesn't get to finish, interrupted for the second time. As if she forgot about his presence there, Ellie skips past him and launches herself into your arms. She almost knocks you down the porch steps, his hand immediately shooting forward to steady you before that could happen.

Eventually, Ellie frees you from her tight hug. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, unable to contain her excitement. “Guess what? I crushed that dumb exam yesterday. I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Ellie, language,” Joel says. He gets ignored, again.

But not by you, though. Your gaze flicks to his, a small, reassuring smile tugging at your lips. It further dims the anxiety that had seized him moments ago.

You then look back at Ellie. “Of course I do. You’re a smart girl, Ellie. Told you a little studying actually helps.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still super boring though,” she mutters, rolling her eyes at how right you are. “Anyway, stables are opening up soon, and you owe me a riding lesson. Thought I’d check to see if you were already up— guess you saved me the trip.”

You let out a gentle snicker. “I did promise you that, didn't I?”

“Yup, you did,” Ellie nods. She turns to Joel, who’s no longer an invisible being to her. She spots the burlap still in his grasp and points to it. “What’s that?”

“Coffee,” he informs simply, and Joel sees the way you bite back a laugh when Ellie instantly grimaces. He then quips, “That’s very offensive.”

“Good, ‘cause it smells and tastes disgusting, bleh!”

“Try tea next time,” you suggest, chuckling.

Ellie’s face doesn’t change. “Even worse. In what world is hot leaf water appealing?”

“Gotta agree with you on that, kiddo,” Joel smirks, earning him a gentle jab in the ribs from you.

“Insult my tea one more time and you’ll never get a taste of coffee again,” you say like a warning, though there’s no real bite to it.

Still, Joel throws his hands up in front of him. A white flag.

“Eugh, enough already. There’s no competition. Both of your drinks are gross,” Ellie mumbles, shaking her head. She moves on. “Sooo, those horse riding lessons this morning. Yes or definitely a yes?”

You look at Joel's way, wordlessly checking with him if it's okay. He doesn't spare a second thinking about it, giving you a slight tip of his head in approval. It's impossible to deny you and Ellie of anything.

"Alright, your first lesson starts today," you tell Ellie. "Do me a favor and put a kettle on so Joel can make his coffee. Just need to talk to him before we can go."

Ellie performs a little salute. “You got it. Joel, my jacket?”

"Upstairs in my room," he reveals, resting his hands on his hips. "Saw a tear in it last night, so I patched it up for you. Go on, check it out after."

Ellie beams at him. She’s quick to give Joel a squeeze around his middle, and he relishes it, knowing these sweet displays of affection from her don't happen often, nor do they last very long.

“Fuck yeah! Be right back!” And then she’s off, dashing back inside the house, not giving him a chance to chide her over her cursing.

As soon as you and Joel are alone, silence settles between the two of you. He pushes down the creeping dread, deferring the talk you mentioned wanting to have with him by keeping the conversation on Ellie.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Joel murmurs, his fingers toying with the frayed strings of the coffee bag he still holds. “Shoulda given you an out back there. If you got your hands full today, I could talk her out of it. Set up a better time for those lessons.”

You give him a faint shake of your head. “It’s okay, now is a good time. She deserves it. School’s been tough on her, but I can see how much she tries.”

“She’s got the best tutor. Pretty sure she prefers you more than her actual teachers.”

“Maybe ‘cause I bribe her with baked goods and sweets every time she does her homework.”

"Don't see anythin' wrong with that. If it works, it works," Joel chuckles, the sound of it slightly hollow, however. His thoughts begin to drift to a distant place, despite his best efforts to resist.

A pause. You tilt your head at him, a crease forming between your brows. “Joel, is everything alr—”

The tight knot in his chest swells at what you're going to ask, but he quickly forces it aside and swallows hard. He cuts you off before you can finish the question.

“—Do you, uh, want a cup?”

Seconds tick by without a single word exchanged. Your gaze softens as it lingers on Joel's, like you're reading a line of unseen words written across his face. He couldn't quite catch the flicker of thought passing through your mind; he's unsure he wants to.

You draw in a sharp breath to speak, but just as before, he deflects.

“I-I can make you a cup. You got me this, so you should have a taste—”

“Joel, I think we should—”

“Why don’t you come inside and—”

“—Look, something’s obviously wrong. Why won’t you—”

"No. Don't," Joel breathes out, his gaze lowering in both shame and fear. The fear of looking into your eyes and witnessing the damage he's caused. He doesn't want to see not even a trace of anger or disappointment in you; he knows he won't be able to take it. That it would be like a jagged blade thrusted into his fragile heart.

God, why is he so damn scared? Instead of facing the truth, he chooses to run and hide, leaving you in the dark when he should be standing right there, right next to you.

It’s the risks. The consequences.

The aftermath of those words could ultimately bring.

Everything would change, Joel knows it will. And he can't help but envision the worst that could happen. That his luck would eventually run out.

He’ll fall short. He’s not as strong as you think he is. It’s obvious right now when he’s too scared of being honest with you. Too scared of making this real.

Even with time, Joel would stay scarred. Too broken to hold something so tender in his hands. Hands that have committed sins in the past, never to be thoroughly washed off, no matter how much good he's done as of late.

You’ll realize you deserve better, you’ll find better, and he won't blame you.

“Joel, look at me. Please.”

Your voice, quiet and small, slips through the cracks in his mind, pulling him away from the heavy thoughts he burdens himself with. He doesn’t move, just stands there with an arm leaning against a column, as if trying to keep himself upright.

A soft hand rests under his chin, and he releases a shaky sigh when you tip it up slightly to find his eyes. Joel holds his breath, bracing himself for the eventual sting when you catch them.

But when you do, no hurt comes. There’s no hardness beneath your gaze. Just a calmness, a gentle understanding.

Your eyes don’t press Joel for an explanation, simply offering a refuge from his restless mind. You’ve spent enough time with him to know when he would get lost in a quiet spiral. And like all those other times, you reach a hand out for him to take, to hold.

He does, and all the noise in his head dulls into the faintest hum.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to. I get it, it’s okay,” you reassure Joel softly, the squeeze on his hand anchoring him to the present.

A minute comes and goes. Then a low rasp: “I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say, offering him a smile that manages to take a slight heaviness off his chest. “We’ll pretend it never happened.”

Joel could only nod in response. Part of him is grateful to be able to move on from this. To pretend, to forget. But he can’t escape the ache that lingers like a ghost haunting his heart.

“Ellie will be back in a sec. How ‘bout coming with us to the stables? Make me that cup of coffee along with yours, and we can take them to go.”

Joel shrugs his shoulders, which carry the weight of the unknown. He's not sure if he can trust himself around you at the moment. Doesn't want to make yet another wrong move with you. "You sure? I-I got… stuff to do. Gotta check the bathroom sink, faucet's been kinda leakin' and—"

"No, don't," you whisper, echoing his words earlier, though yours is much gentler. "You don't have to hide yourself away. We're friends, aren't we?"

Friends.

Yes.

That you two are, Joel is reminded of. And friends don't fall for each other, do they?

Pretend and forget. Joel's done that before to survive. Pushed down all his grief and guilt to keep himself going. He would bury his love for you just as easily, anything to avoid the raw intensity that he doesn't know what to do with, which terrifies him.

“Friends,” Joel repeats in a murmur. He pulls his gaze away from yours once more, but settles it this time on the warm, steady hands that hold his. “Don’t have too much of those.”

You hum quietly, thumb tracing over his knuckles. “Well, at least you’ve got me.”

Joel smiles softly at that. Stillness descends once more, but no longer does it thrum with thick tension. It doesn't swallow him up whole, unlike before. No, not when you’re there tethering him to the ground beneath his feet.

He has you, and perhaps that’s just enough. What you already have is good. It's safe and easy. He's content with it. Truly. He doesn’t need to chase after something more, something that’s unpredictable.

Because that’s what love is to Joel—it’s a gamble. It demands pieces of him, only to offer uncertainty in return.

"Yeah. Yeah I do," he sighs in agreement. “Head on inside, let’s go make you that coffee.”

Before Joel steps towards the door, he pauses. Looking down on your intertwined hands, he lets his linger in the gentle clasp of yours for a few more, slow seconds. Then, with a final fleeting squeeze, his fingers loosen reluctantly, and he lets you go.

#comment rb #joel miller x reader

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