#AND tommy to stay in the show no matter what happens with his relationship with buck

[strangeasf]

I really truly don't get this whole bucktommy and buddie rivalry.. I mean I love buddie and I really like bucktommy and don't understand the problem of liking and rooting for both. yeah, at the same time. what happened, everyone forgot about multishipping? why can't two ships coexist in peace??

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 3

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦"

summary: After the incident, where past traumas resurface and threaten to unravel your fragile sense of security, Joel steps in as a protector. His presence becomes a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 3

masterlist of the series!

Previous | chapter 2

Next | chapter 4

The night when Jamie took your virginity by force felt like the moment the light within you was extinguished. It was as if the divine spark that once illuminated your soul was snuffed out, leaving behind a darkness that clung to you like a second skin. The purity you had cherished as a good Christian girl was shattered, and in its place, you felt an overwhelming sense of dirtiness. It was as if you had been marked, branded with an invisible scarlet letter that only you could see, yet you believed everyone else could see it too.

The past two months had been a relentless descent into a personal hell. You had become a ghost of your former self, your once vibrant spirit now a flickering ember. Physically, you were a shadow, your body wasting away as if your soul’s torment had seeped into your flesh. The weight of your violation bore down on you, leaving you with no desire to eat, to engage, to exist. Every day was a struggle against the ever-present feeling of disgust, the conviction that you were tainted beyond redemption.

In the eyes of others, you felt exposed, as if the sin of that night was etched into your very being. It was as if the words “dirty slut” were emblazoned across your skin, a silent condemnation that followed you everywhere. No matter where you went, the eyes of judgment seemed to follow, their silent accusations piercing your already wounded soul.

At school, you had withdrawn into yourself, a stark contrast to the lively girl you once were. You spoke to no one, even when you went to church, you avoiding Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. After class, you would rush home, seeking refuge in the solitude that had become both your sanctuary and your prison. Only Joel knew the truth of what had happened that night, and he had been your anchor in the storm.

After that night, you stayed at Joel’s. He had been nothing but gentle, his touch a stark contrast to the violence you had endured. He cleaned you up, gave you a bath, and ensured your privacy by standing near the tub with the curtain drawn, only intervening if you needed something. The care he showed you was the kind of protection you had longed for all your life. His presence was a balm to your wounded spirit, his protectiveness a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you.

The morning after, you insisted on walking home, despite Joel’s offer to drive you. Your house was nearby, but in your daze, you had forgotten to inform your parents where you had been. As you walked through the front door, your father’s fury was immediate. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice a thunderous roar. "You didn’t tell us you were staying out. Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"I stayed at Ellie’s," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. "If you don’t believe me, you can call Joel."

Without hesitation, your father dialed Joel’s number. You stood there, heart pounding, as Joel answered. "Yes, she stayed with Ellie here last night," Joel confirmed, his voice steady. He kept his promise not to reveal the incident with Jamie, but your father’s anger was far from assuaged.

"Even so," your father raged, "you didn’t inform us. What’s next? You’ll become a whore, wandering the streets? Is that what you want?" His words cut deep, each one a dagger plunging into your already shattered heart. He berated you about the virtues of Christianity, reminding you of the sanctity of purity and obedience.

"You need to understand the importance of your faith," he lectured, his voice a relentless drone. "You must remain pure and obedient, not fall into sin like this."

You stood there, numb, the weight of his words adding to the already unbearable burden on your shoulders. The guilt and shame threatened to overwhelm you. Every word felt like another chain, binding you in your own personal hell.

"Take off your shirt and face the wall," your father ordered, his voice cold and commanding.

With trembling hands, you did as he said, the shirt you borrowed from Ellie slipping to the floor. You turned to the wall, feeling the roughness of the paint against your skin, a stark contrast to the softness you craved. Your father took his belt, the leather a familiar implement of punishment, and began to strike.

Each lash was a searing reminder of your perceived sins, each word of his condemnation a nail in the coffin of your spirit. "This is for your disobedience," he spat, the belt cracking against your skin. "This is for the whore you’re becoming."

You bit back your cries, the tears streaming down your face silently. You were too exhausted to scream, too broken to protest. The pain was overwhelming, but it felt deserved. In your mind, this was God’s punishment for your unholiness, a penance for the dirtiness you couldn’t wash away.

Your mother watched from the doorway, her eyes filled with helplessness. She didn’t intervene, just as she never had. Instead, she retreated to the living room, turning up the volume on the gospel music to drown out the sound of your father’s anger and your silent suffering.

With each strike, you closed your eyes, the pain coursing through you like fire. You envisioned yourself as a fallen angel, wings torn and bloodied, cast out from the grace you once knew. The purity you had cherished was gone, replaced by a deep, unending shame.

When it was over, you collapsed to the floor, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pain. You felt like a martyr, bearing the weight of your father’s righteousness, the gospel music a cruel hymn to your suffering. You were unworthy, unholy, and the punishment was your penance.

As you lay there, tears mingling with the cold floor, you prayed. Not for forgiveness, but for strength. "God, if You’re listening, help me endure this. Help me find a way to survive." Your prayer was a whisper in the storm, a desperate plea from a soul that had known too much darkness.

In that moment, you understood the depth of your isolation. Your purity was gone, your light extinguished, but a spark of defiance remained. You had survived this night, just as you had survived Jamie. And somehow, you would find a way to keep surviving, to reclaim the light that had been stolen from you.

***

The days that followed were a blur of silence and shadows. You moved through the house like a ghost, your presence barely acknowledged by your parents. Your father’s words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of your perceived worthlessness. Every glance in the mirror revealed the invisible brand of shame you felt etched into your skin. You had become a stranger to yourself, lost in a labyrinth of guilt and self-loathing.

At school, you withdrew further into yourself, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Ellie noticed your absence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. The weight of your secret was too heavy to share, the fear of judgment too great. You walked the halls with your head down, each step a reminder of the burden you carried.

A month had gone by, and now it was Sunday. The weight of another church service loomed over you. You had managed to somewhat regain a semblance of normalcy, but the shadows of that night continued to haunt you. Despite the slight improvement, you had been avoiding everyone, including Joel. His calls went unanswered, and you took alternate routes to avoid passing his house. The shame you felt was overwhelming. You had developed feelings for Joel, but you believed he would never want you now that you felt so dirty.

Joel, on the other hand, was deeply worried about you. His concern grew with each passing day. He would occasionally ask Tommy if he had seen you at church, but Tommy’s answers never provided the comfort Joel sought.

The night before Sunday, Joel decided to visit Tommy and Maria with Ellie, hoping to have a casual movie night. He needed an excuse to ask about you without raising suspicions.

As they settled in the living room, Tommy was setting up the movie. Joel took a seat next to him, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. Ellie and Maria were chatting in the kitchen, preparing snacks.

"So, how’ve things been?" Joel asked, trying to keep his tone light. "Busy with the kid, I bet."

Tommy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, you know how it is. Little one keeps us on our toes. What about you? How's work been?"

"Same old, same old," Joel replied, leaning back in his chair. "Ellie's doing good in school, keeping me busy with all her activities."

Tommy smiled. "That’s good to hear. She’s a great kid."

Joel nodded, then took a deep breath, trying to steer the conversation. "Yeah, speaking of kids... you seen Gibson girl around lately? Maybe at church? Haven't seen her passing by my home."

Tommy frowned, scratching his head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I haven't seen her at church either. And she's usually always around."

Joel tried to keep his voice casual, not wanting to raise suspicion. "Right," Joel answered, but his thoughts were far from the conversation at hand. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind—the pain in your eyes, the way you had avoided him, the way your voice trembled when you last spoke. Every unanswered call, every sight of your empty path gnawed at him, filling him with a deep, gnawing worry.

He replayed that night over and over, the way you had clung to him, the way he had tried to provide comfort without crossing any lines. He had never felt so helpless, so desperate to protect someone, yet so unsure of how to do it. His heart ached with the thought of you suffering alone, believing you were dirty or unworthy.

"Joel?" Tommy's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Joel blinked, realizing he had completely zoned out.

"Huh? What?" Joel said, shaking his head to clear the fog of worry. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Tommy gave him a curious look, tilting his head slightly. "I was asking if you wanted more popcorn, but you seemed a million miles away. Everything alright?"

Joel forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety that churned within him. "Yeah, sorry just got a lot on my mind. But yeah, more popcorn sounds good."

Tommy didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let it go, standing up to refill the bowl. Joel watched him go, taking the moment to gather himself. He needed to find a way to reach you, to make sure you were alright without raising too much suspicion. The worry gnawed at him, a constant presence in the back of his mind.

As the movie continued, Joel found it hard to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, hoping that you were finding some measure of peace, even as he felt his own slipping further away.

As the sun rose on Sunday, you prepared yourself with a painstaking precision. The morning light seemed to cast an unforgiving glow on your efforts, illuminating every detail of your attire and makeup. You adorned yourself in a soft yellow dress, a stark contrast to the stained white dress you had left behind—a symbol of a past tainted by invisible scars. Your hair was styled meticulously, and a light touch of makeup tried to mask the weariness in your eyes. It was as if you were trying to paint over the shadows that clung to you, hoping that the brightness of the yellow might somehow wash away the stains of your recent past.

Your father was adamant about you joining the service, and the pressure of his expectations weighed heavily on you. The town would be present, as it always was for these occasions, their curious eyes a stark reminder of your recent absence. You could feel their gazes, and you braced yourself for the inevitable scrutiny. The anticipation of stepping into the public eye once more was almost suffocating.

When you arrived at the church, you noticed Tommy and Maria’s car parked nearby, a sight that barely registered in your anxious state. But as you turned, your heart seemed to freeze. There, behind Tommy’s car, was a familiar truck—a vehicle you hadn’t expected to see in such a context. It was Joel’s truck.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Joel had decided to return to church after years of absence. The scene before you was a tableau of mixed emotions: the congregation’s whispers, the look of surprise on Tommy’s face, and your father’s exuberant welcome of Joel. The church buzzed with curiosity, and every eye seemed to turn toward Joel and the unexpected presence he brought with him. Your father’s enthusiasm was palpable as he greeted Joel, his gestures warm and welcoming. Tommy smiled, clearly pleased to see his brother, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming urge to disappear. The thought of facing Joel was almost too much to bear. The last time you had seen him, everything had been different. The thought of him seeing you in your current state, a mix of shame and unresolved feelings, was unbearable. You moved swiftly to avoid his gaze, slipping through the crowd like a wisp of smoke.

Joel's presence was a silent declaration of concern and hope. His return to the church was more than a gesture; it was an effort to reconnect, to understand why you had vanished so abruptly from his life. He couldn’t risk coming to your house and questioning your parents directly, as that would have been too conspicuous. Instead, he chose this public setting, hoping it might offer a chance to see you, to gauge your well-being without drawing undue attention.

Tommy and Ellie had been startled by Joel’s decision to attend church after all these years. To them, it was an unspoken mystery, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit with the past patterns they knew. Tommy’s curiosity was evident, though he kept his questions at bay, respecting Joel’s unspoken wish for discretion.

As the service began, the room was filled with the familiar hymns and prayers. The sounds of the congregation’s voices blended into a backdrop of solemnity and devotion. You sat through the service, your mind a turbulent sea of emotions, while Joel’s presence at the back of the church was a constant, heavy reminder of your own turmoil.

Joel, despite his own feelings of discomfort in this sacred space, kept his gaze low, trying to remain unobtrusive. His concern for you overshadowed the solemnity of the service, his heart aching with the desire to reach out, to offer solace, but restrained by the fear of overstepping. The echoes of the sermon, the rustle of prayer books, and the collective murmur of the congregation seemed distant, as if you were trapped in a bubble of your own distress.

After the Sunday service, the church transformed into a space of community and fellowship. Tables were set up with an array of homemade dishes, and the congregation gathered for a communal meal. The aroma of comfort food filled the air, mingling with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of plates. It was a time for members of the congregation to connect, share news, and strengthen their bonds.

You moved through the gathering with practiced grace, helping your mother and father arrange the food and interact with the attendees. Your smile was a well-practiced mask, concealing the turmoil that churned beneath. You greeted old friends and acquaintances, your responses polite but distant. The effort to maintain this façade was exhausting, but you felt it was necessary to avoid further scrutiny.

As you made your way to the storage room in the church, a quiet refuge away from the bustling hall, you found yourself alone. The clamor of the gathering seemed a world away, and the space was filled with the scent of dust and old paper. You were organizing a stack of donation boxes when you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

Turning around, you saw Joel standing in the doorway. His presence was like a sudden storm cloud on an otherwise clear day—unexpected and overwhelming. He looked at you with a mixture of concern and apprehension, his rugged face lined with worry. The weight of his gaze was almost palpable, and it seemed as though he was struggling to find the right words.

“Hey,” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly. He took a hesitant step forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The usual gruffness in his tone was softened by the underlying worry.

You shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by his appearance. “Joel,” you managed to reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions welling up inside you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Joel looked around the small room, as if searching for the right way to start the conversation. “Yeah, well,” he began, his gaze falling back on you. “I’ve been—” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been worried about you. Haven’t seen you around much. I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of his genuine concern. Joel was a man of action rather than words, and his struggle to articulate his feelings only highlighted how much he cared. He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of how you were really doing.

“Joel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “did you come to church just for this? I’m fine. Really.”

Joel’s expression softened, but his concern remained palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you, and you’ve been avoidin’ me. It’s not like you to just disappear. I need to know—are you really okay?” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his worry. You looked away, struggling to find the right response. “I’ve just been dealing with things,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed some time.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his concern deepening. " You’ve been missin’ from school, from church, from everythin’. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been keepin’ your distance."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, the truth of your situation pressing heavily on your heart. “I'm fine, Joel” you said, struggling to keep your composure.

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a mixture of frustration and concern etched into his features. “Why’ve you been avoidin’ me?” he asked, his voice a blend of urgency and care. “You can’t keep runnin’ away from this. You keep pushin’ me away.”

You felt a sharp pang of guilt at his words, your heart twisting in your chest. The shame and the weight of your feelings made it difficult to meet his eyes. “I just—” you began, your voice faltering. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to see how... broken I am.”

Joel’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and tenderness. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not broken. You’re still you. You don’t have nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, yet the weight of your shame still felt suffocating. You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “But I’ve changed,” you said, your voice cracking. “I feel like I’m not who I was before. I feel... dirty. Like I’m not even me anymore.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he noticed the tremble in your voice, the tears that began to fall. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, reassuring embrace. His touch was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the cold grip of your shame.

As he held you, Joel let his guard down, something he rarely allowed himself to do. The strength in his arms was a shield against the world, a sanctuary where you could momentarily escape the torment you had been living through. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, provided a grounding comfort. This was more than a physical embrace; it was a silent promise of protection, akin to the way he had once shielded Ellie and Sarah.

“It’s alright,” Joel murmured into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not your fault, it's not your fault. Everything's gonna be alright, babygirl."

His words were like a balm to the raw wounds of your spirit, yet the weight of your emotions still felt heavy. You could sense the sincerity in his voice, a quiet strength that contrasted sharply with the tumult of your inner world. In his embrace, you could almost imagine the weight of your shame lifting, if only for a moment.

After a while, you slowly pulled away from Joel’s comforting hold, grateful for his presence. “Thank you, Joel,” you said softly, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Joel, ever the pragmatist, decided to lighten the mood with one of his characteristic jokes.

“You know,” he said with a crooked smile, “cryin’ like that might just mess up your makeup. And we wouldn’t want you lookin’ like a raccoon now, would we?”

His playful jest brought a genuine smile to your face, a rare and fleeting moment of joy. Joel’s eyes softened as he saw you smile, his own expression a mix of relief and affection. “That’s right, like that, doll,” he said, his voice warm.

He gently cupped your face, his rough fingers brushing away the last traces of tears. “You’re stronger than you think. Just gotta give yourself some credit. You ain’t broken, not by a long shot.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached, and your mother appeared at the doorway of the storage room. Her cheerful voice cut through the tension. “Sweetheart, what’s taking so long? Did you find everything?”

You and Joel quickly pulled away from each other, making a show of straightening up and wiping your faces. “Umm, yes mother, I-I found it,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Your mother’s eyes fell on Joel, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Joel? What are you doing here?”

Joel cleared his throat, trying to mask the unease in his voice. “Hey, Evelyn, I, uh, just looking around the church again. Almost forgot how it looks from the inside, you know? It’s been a while.”

Your mother, ever the bubbly personality, clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! We’re so glad to see you back. You know, you should come more often. It’s always nice to have you around. It’s been such a long time!”

Joel nodded, his eyes flicking back to you with a hint of concern. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Just felt like catching up with old times.”

Your mother beamed at Joel, her enthusiasm unwavering. “Well, that’s fantastic. You must join us for some of the refreshments afterward. It’s a potluck today, and there’s plenty of food. Everyone’s been asking about you.”

Joel gave a polite smile, trying to hide his discomfort. “Sure thing. I’ll stick around for a bit.”

As your mother continued to chat with Joel, her cheerful demeanor filling the room with a lightness that contrasted sharply with the earlier tension, you took the opportunity to discreetly collect yourself. You adjusted your dress and smoothed out your makeup, trying to regain your composure.

Joel, noticing the change in your demeanor, shot you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to your mother.

Your mother excuse herself to go out but lookback to you, “Oh, sweetheart, I almost forgot. We need help with the setup for the refreshments,”

You quickly nodded. “Yes, I’ll take care of it, Mama." and she went to outside.

You and Joel moved outside too, where the atmosphere of the church’s potluck was in full swing. The laughter and chatter of the congregation filled the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked goods and savory dishes. Joel, despite his unease, tried to adapt to the social scene, engaging with the women who flocked to him. He was a striking figure, with his salt-and-pepper beard and intense brown eyes that had a rugged charm to them. The women, clearly drawn to his distinguished appearance and the success he embodied, tried to catch his attention, though Joel’s discomfort was palpable. He offered polite smiles and brief responses, all the while his gaze frequently wandered back to you.

You moved among the congregation, offering refreshments and engaging in small talk, your presence like a breath of fresh air amidst the busier, more boisterous interactions. To Joel, you appeared as a serene vision—an innocent beauty despite everything. There was something ethereal about you, a delicate grace that made you stand out among the crowd. Your yellow dress seemed to shimmer with a soft glow, as if capturing the very essence of spring's first light.

Joel’s eyes lingered on you, the sight of your genuine smile and the way you interacted with others tugging at something deep within him. You were like a lone daisy in a field of wildflowers, untouched by the wilting sun. His admiration for you was undeniable, though it was mingled with concern and protectiveness.

Suddenly, as you were handing out refreshments, he noticed a boy approaching you. He moved with a kind of familiar swagger, and Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized him—Jamie Lee. The sight of Jamie sent a shiver down Joel’s spine, and a protective instinct surged through him. He watched, tense and alert, as Jamie neared you.

Jamie’s presence was like a shadow falling over your radiant light. Joel’s gaze hardened, his focus narrowing. He could see the unease in your posture, the way you instinctively took a step back. The fear in your eyes was palpable, and it made Joel’s fists clench at his sides.

Joel, unable to stand idly by, started making his way towards you. His movements were deliberate and calculated, every step driven by a fierce determination to protect you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before turning back to Jamie. The confrontation had left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you approached him with a cold, composed demeanor.

Jamie, noticing your icy response, shifted uncomfortably. “Hey,” he started, his voice trying to sound casual but laced with an apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to, you know, I was just—”

"Get off from my face," you said quietly doesn't want to make a scene.

amie’s face twisted into a desperate mask of fear as he took another step closer. “Look, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “Just... just listen to me. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get off from my face,” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper but sharp as a blade. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to push him away, but Jamie persisted, his fear morphing into a desperate, unsettling urgency. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Jamie’s panic grew. He began to reach out, trying to grab your arm. “You don’t understand. I need you to—”

Before he could touch you, Joel’s imposing figure appeared, his presence radiating a quiet, intimidating authority. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, the protective instincts within him coming to the forefront. “What’s goin’ on here?” Joel’s voice was steady, yet carried a dangerous edge that made Jamie freeze.

Jamie’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mr. Miller!” he stammered, backing away slightly. “I—uh—”

Joel’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the fear and distress on your face. He took a step closer to you, his body language radiating both calm and control. “Gibson, you alright?” he asked softly, his voice a reassuring balm amidst the tension.

You nodded, though your face was pale and your eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “Yes, I’m fine. Just... I need to go," You trying to gave Joel a smile and then walk away continue what you were doing.

Joel watched you walk away, his protective instincts still simmering beneath the surface. Once you were out of sight, Joel turned his full attention back to Jamie, his expression hardening.

“Hey, Jamie,” Joel said, his voice low and controlled. “How’s your old man? Still keepin’ busy with the firm?”

Jamie seemed to relax slightly, though his eyes still flicked nervously between Joel and the direction you had gone. “Uh, yeah, he’s doing alright,” Jamie replied, trying to sound casual. “Still busy as ever. You know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a subtle intensity in his eyes that Jamie seemed to sense but couldn’t quite place. “And what about you? What’ve you been up to lately?”

Jamie fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, just... you know, school and stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

Joel nodded slowly, maintaining a calm exterior while his mind worked through his options. “Right, right. Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. Thought I’d come back to the old church, see how things are goin’.”

Jamie’s eyes darted nervously. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he said, his voice faltering. “So, uh, what brings you back? I thought you hadn’t been around for years.”

Joel’s smile was tight, the warmth of it not quite reaching his eyes. “Just felt like it was time to reconnect. Thought I’d check in on the old place, you know?"

Jamie seemed to relax a bit more, although his discomfort lingered. “Yeah, well, it’s good to see you,” he said awkwardly. “Things are... different, but you know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a quiet storm of thoughts behind his calm facade. “Yeah, I know how it is,” he said, his tone measured. “Well, Jamie, I’m glad we had a chance to catch up. I'll see you around,"

Jamie’s face was a mask of confusion and relief as he nodded quickly. “Yeah, see you around, Mr. Miller.”

As Jamie walked away, Joel’s eyes followed him, a thoughtful frown settling on his face. He knew there was more beneath the surface, and he was determined to uncover it, but for now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze returning to where you had disappeared. He knew that protecting you and making sure you felt safe was his priority now. The façade of casual conversation was just that—a façade.

Joel watched you slip away from the crowd, a cloud of worry settling over him. His thoughts were a maelstrom of concern and determination, but before he could follow, he was waylaid by several familiar faces. They were eager to catch up, their questions and greetings a barrier he couldn’t easily cross. He tried to be polite, nodding and offering half-hearted responses, all the while his mind remained focused on you.

Meanwhile, you navigated the church grounds with a heavy heart, your steps driven by a desperate need for solitude. You approached your father with a feigned urgency. “Papa, I need to leave early. I have a test tomorrow and I need a book from the library,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but with a determined edge.

Your father, engrossed in the after-church festivities, waved you off with little more than a distracted nod. “Alright, just be back before dark,” he called after you, his attention already shifting back to the conversation he was engaged in.

With a sigh of relief, you made your way to the edge of the church grounds, your thoughts a tangled mess of despair and shame. The path to the lake felt like a journey through an emotional wilderness. Each step seemed to echo the emptiness inside you, the trees and underbrush closing in like the walls of your own confinement.

As you walked, the weight of your thoughts felt like an oppressive fog, obscuring any sense of clarity or peace. The forest surrounding the path seemed to mirror your inner turmoil—dark, tangled, and impenetrable. The chirping of distant birds and the rustling leaves became a muted symphony to your solitary reflection, their sounds like distant whispers of a world you felt disconnected from.

Reaching the lake, you sank down onto the grassy bank, the weight of the past weeks pressing heavily on your shoulders. The water’s surface was a mirror of your own fractured soul—rippled and distorted, reflecting the tangled mess of your emotions. You fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a flask from beneath your jacket, your hands shaking slightly. The cigarettes were a crutch, a way to cope with the stress that had become almost unbearable.

Lighting a cigarette, you took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the air like a wisp of your own troubles being released. You retrieved the flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the whiskey you had managed to sneak away. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, a fleeting comfort in the midst of your turmoil. It was a bitter solace, a way to dull the sharp edges of your pain, but it never truly erased the deep ache within.

The lake, now dimming in the encroaching twilight, seemed to embrace your solitude. Its surface reflected the last rays of sunlight, shimmering like scattered fragments of hope amidst the darkness. You leaned back, the grass beneath you soft and cool, the calmness of the lake providing a deceptive sense of tranquility.

As you looked out over the water, your thoughts drifted like the gentle ripples across the lake’s surface. The recent events played out in your mind like a series of shadowy figures, each one a reminder of how your life had spiraled into this moment of isolation and despair. You clung to the fleeting moments of numbness provided by the whiskey and smoke, trying to drown out the crushing weight of your reality.

Joel, meanwhile, managed to extricate himself from the crowd of well-wishers. His concern for you was a constant pull, a magnetic force guiding him towards you. As he scanned the area around the church, his eyes caught sight of your disappearing figure, and he felt a renewed urgency to follow.

The lake stretched out before you, its surface a placid mirror reflecting the fading light of day. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds seemed like distant echoes compared to the chaos in your mind. You lay on the grass, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath you, and the weight of Jamie Lee’s presence still heavy on your soul. Each ripple in the lake's surface seemed to mimic the turbulent waves of your thoughts—crashing, receding, only to rise again with relentless force.

You had managed to slip away from the crowd, the world around you feeling far removed from the comforting isolation you sought. As you stared out over the lake, the thoughts of Jamie’s unwelcome reappearance, the haunting memories, and the crushing fear of being trapped in this endless cycle of pain and shame twisted through your mind. You were desperate for a way out, a new beginning, a place where you could shed the weight of your past and start anew. But for now, all you could do was lie there, the whispers of the forest around you a faint consolation against the storm within.

Then, breaking through the oppressive silence, a voice reached you. "Thought I found you here."

The sound of Joel’s voice was a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You turned slowly, your heart pounding as you saw him emerging from the trees. His presence was a tether to reality, grounding you amidst the chaos. His gaze was soft but intense, filled with a concern that seemed to pierce through the veil of your anguish.

Joel walked over to you with deliberate steps, his expression a mix of determination and empathy. He settled beside you on the grass, his body language a silent promise of protection and understanding. The familiarity of his presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the stark contrast between your own inner darkness and his unwavering support.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with genuine worry.

You didn’t immediately respond, the weight of your emotions rendering you almost speechless. The silence stretched between you, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between your fractured state and his steady presence. Joel’s eyes, dark and intense, held yours with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read the secrets written in your sorrow.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I keep trying to run away from it. But every time I think I’m getting away, it all just catches up with me.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of deep concern and frustration as he watched you struggle to keep your composure. “I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of earnest reassurance.

As Joel reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flinched as though struck, your body reacting involuntarily to the touch. Joel pulled his hand back, a flash of confusion crossing his face. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he asked, his tone gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly shook your head, trying to mask the truth. “It’s nothing, Joel. I’m fine,” you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your distress.

Joel’s eyes narrowed with concern. It was clear to him that there was more to your reaction than you were letting on. “You’re not fine,” he said firmly. “You're hidin' something, let me see your back,"

“I’m fine, Joel,” you insisted, trying to back away from him. Your voice was steadier now, but your heart was racing.

Joel’s face was set in grim determination. “No, you’re not. If you don’t show me, I’m gonna keep pushin’. I can see it in your eyes—you’re in pain, and I need to know why.”

When you continued to resist, Joel’s frustration reached its peak. “You gotta trust me,” he said, his voice harsh but filled with a desperate edge.

Unable to bear his insistence any longer, you shouted, “Joel, stop! I said I’m fine!” The raw pain and fear in your voice were undeniable, and Joel’s eyes softened for a moment, but his resolve remained unshaken.

Joel’s expression hardened. “I’m not lettin’ this go,” he said firmly. He gently but firmly reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it down further to expose the scars on your back. His movements were deliberate and careful, but his eyes were filled with a cold intensity that brooked no argument.

As he revealed the cruel marks etched into your skin, his anger became more apparent. His gaze swept over the scars—long, angry lines, some still raw and others faded but no less painful. Each mark told a story of suffering, and Joel’s jaw clenched in response.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his voice strained with barely controlled rage. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone growing colder with each word. “Who did this to you?"

"It's... It's my father," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. The confession felt like a stone lodged in your throat, its weight choking you.

Joel closed his eyes momentarily, fighting to contain the storm of anger threatening to erupt. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw working as he muttered curses under his breath. The fury simmering just below the surface was palpable.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “How long have you been dealin’ with this?”

“Since forever,” you said quietly, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your admission.

"Does your mother know?" Joel asked, you nodded.

“My mother knows, but she’s too scared to do anything. It’s... ironic, really. Just a few months ago, he was giving advice to Tommy about parenting, acting like some holy figure, but he's nothing but a hypocrite.” You try to lighten up.

Joel’s face contorted with a mix of disbelief and disgust. He stood abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive.

You scrambled to your feet, desperation gripping you. “Joel, where are you going?! please,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t do anything. Please, just let it be. This is my fault. I made him angry. I deserve this. Please, don’t make it worse. I can’t handle more trouble.”

Joel’s gaze was intense, his anger still visible but mixed with concern. “Are you fucking crazy?!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the still lake. “This ain’t your fault!” His outburst was raw, his frustration spilling over.

You flinched, your body instinctively drawing back from the intensity of his anger. The sudden surge of emotion was overwhelming, and you could feel the fear rise in your chest, a cold shiver racing down your spine.

Joel’s expression softened as he saw your reaction, his own anger faltering in the face of your fear. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough but gentler now. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just... seeing what he’s done to you...”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know, I know, Joel,” you whispered. “I just don’t know how to handle this. I’m scared, and I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

Joel’s eyes, usually so guarded, now reflected a rare vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared,” he said, his voice softer, like a steady hand in the darkness. “I’m here for you."

The night air felt colder, but Joel’s presence was a warm, unspoken promise. His rough exterior hid a well of compassion, and though he struggled to find the right words, his actions spoke volumes. He gently pressed his forehead to yours, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “I’ll keep you safe,” he vowed, his voice a low murmur. “I promise,"

The contact of his forehead against yours was a silent, grounding connection. It was a gesture filled with the weight of his resolve and the depth of his commitment. The orange sky seemed to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to the two of you in that fragile moment of solace.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with confusion and vulnerability. “Why are you helping me like this?”

Joel pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching for the right words. He honestly didn’t know, not really, why he felt this way. Why the protective instinct was so strong, why his heart ached with a depth he hadn’t felt before. This wasn’t like his feelings for Ellie or Sarah; it was different, an enigma wrapped in the folds of his hardened exterior. He was trying to piece it together, to make sense of the emotions that seemed to defy all his usual defenses.

Inside your head, the sensation was equally foreign but profoundly powerful. It was as if, for the first time, you were standing on the edge of a cliff, gazing at an ocean of comfort and care you had only ever dreamed of. The feelings you had longed for, the protection and the tenderness, were now here, enveloping you like a warm, protective cocoon. The stark contrast between this new sense of safety and the pain you had endured made the emotions even more intense.

Joel’s presence was like a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon that cut through the darkness of your fears and insecurities. The connection between you was electric, a thread that wove itself into the very fabric of your being. It was as if every touch, every glance, was an echo of a deep-seated need for solace and understanding. In his gaze, you found not just protection but a promise of something more, something you had never allowed yourself to fully believe in.

As the sky deepened around you, the intimacy of the moment became undeniable. You wanted to close the distance, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours, to make this bond even more tangible. But there was a hesitation—a barrier of years and experiences, a chasm you weren’t sure you could or should cross. Joel was older, a figure who had always seemed out of reach, yet now he was the focal point of a desire that was both thrilling and terrifying.

In your mind, the longing was like a fragile flower blossoming in the dark—a tender, delicate thing that had been waiting for the right moment to bloom. You felt a pull toward him that went beyond mere comfort; it was a magnetic force that drew you closer, promising a kind of connection you hadn’t thought possible.

You wanted to kiss him, to bridge the gap between what was and what could be, but the uncertainty lingered. Would he reciprocate, or would the age difference and the complexities of your feelings stand in the way? The desire was there, shimmering like moonlight on still water, but you were unsure if this was a path you should walk or a dream too fragile to grasp.

Joel's presence was an anchor, grounding you in a moment of clarity and vulnerability. The depth of what you felt for him was new and frightening, like navigating a starless sea in search of a shore you hoped existed. In the silence that followed, you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, a testament to the complex dance of emotion and need that neither of you could fully understand but both could feel.

Driven by the raw need to bridge the chasm between what was and what could be, you made a sudden, bold decision. You leaned in, closing the distance between you with a desperate and trembling kiss.

The moment your lips met his, Joel’s eyes widened in shock. He had not expected this, and for a heartbeat, he was paralyzed, caught between instinct and confusion. It felt like an electric jolt had surged through him, awakening something deep and primal. His heart raced, and his breath hitched as he processed the reality of your kiss.

But as the shock wore off, something else stirred within him—a burgeoning need that mirrored your own. The kiss, so raw and honest, ignited a flame that Joel had long kept buried under layers of grief and stoicism. He felt the world narrow to just the two of you, a universe where the complexities of age and propriety faded into insignificance.

Without fully realizing it, Joel responded with a fervor that surprised even him. His hands cupped your face gently but firmly, drawing you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate, a dance of newfound desire and connection. It was as if each touch, each movement, was a revelation, a discovery of a shared longing that neither of you had fully acknowledged until this very moment.

Joel's kiss was eager, almost desperate. The way he pulled you closer, the intensity of his touch—it was as if he was trying to anchor himself to this fragile but profound connection. His initial shock gave way to an overwhelming need to reciprocate, to explore the emotions that had been unearthed by your bold move.

For both of you, this kiss was a turning point, a leap into a new realm of intimacy and understanding. It was more than just physical; it was an acknowledgment of the depth of feeling that had been building between you. The night around you seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for this moment to solidify into something undeniably real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty. Joel’s gaze was softer now, his eyes reflecting a blend of awe and desire. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender.

“Doll,” Joel said, his voice a rough whisper as he pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry, Joel.” The realization of what had just happened washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling vulnerable and uncertain.

Joel shook his head gently, his gaze steady and reassuring. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his tone firm yet tender. “It’s okay. you're alright, you'll be fine, I promise."

You nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The sky was growing darker, the first hints of night casting long shadows across the lake. You knew you needed to head back before your father’s anger took a new form, a punishment you feared more than the quiet storm that had just passed between you and Joel.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder, his grip warm and steady. “Do you want a ride back?” he asked, his concern evident.

“No, it’s alright,” you replied, shaking your head with a small, weary smile. “Just… go back to the church. Say goodbye to everyone, Joel.”

Joel hesitated, his expression a mix of reluctance and understanding. “Alright,” he said, but before turning to go, you couldn’t help but add a touch of humor to lighten the mood.

“Hey, are you gonna become a regular at the church again?” you said, forcing a grin. “You’ve been MIA for years, and now you show up just to connect with me? What’s next, a testimonial about divine intervention?”

Joel chuckled, the sound a rare and genuine escape from the weight of the moment. “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he replied with a wry smile. “But maybe I’ll drop by once in a while, if only to make sure you’re still alright.”

You both shared a brief, understanding smile. It was a fleeting but comforting connection amidst the chaos of emotions and revelations.

Before parting ways, Joel gave you a warm hug, his embrace firm yet tender. He pulled back slightly and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, a gesture that carried more warmth and affection than words could convey. It was a promise, a silent vow of protection and care, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of the depths of his own feelings.

“Stay safe,” Joel said, his voice gentle but earnest. “I’ll see you around.”

As Joel walked away, his figure blending into the shadows, you turned and began your journey back home. The cool night air brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that Joel had left behind. The path ahead was dimly lit by the moonlight, each step resonating with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

In your mind, the night’s events replayed like a vivid dream. The touch of Joel’s hand, the tenderness of his kiss, and the tangled emotions you felt were all swirling together, creating a new and unfamiliar reality. You felt like you had crossed a threshold, where the lines between safety and danger, affection and fear, had become blurred.

The lake, once a silent witness to your sorrow, now seemed like a distant memory. It was as if you had left it behind, stepping into a new world where the echoes of the night and the promise of something different lingered like a soft whisper.

As you entered your home, the weight of the night’s revelations settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like a delicate balance between the pain you had known and the uncertain hope that now lay ahead. Today had ended with its own kind of twilight, a space between the darkness of the past and the uncertain dawn of the future.

[cuntyhunty22]

Good men die too, oh I'd rather be with you.

Paring: joel x reader

Description: Joel is a regular at your bar, you rely on him for comfort and advice, feelings are there but the line was never crossed (until one night) he saves you from you toxic abusive boyfriend

Outbreak isn't a thing.

Tags: smut. Dirty talk. Daddy kink. Daddy issues. Sexual tension. Domestic violence. Mature language. Cream pie. Gun mentioned.

This is my first story in a long time. It's gonna be broken up into parts because it's longer than I anticipated. Bare with me 🫶🏼

It was a hot Monday afternoon at Bucks Bar and Grill. It's just a little hole-in-the-wall bar in this small southern town. Everyone who comes here knows each other. You have worked here since you were 18; you are 29 now, so it's kinda like family. They all have watched you grow up, been there for you through all your trials and tribulations... your issues with your absent father, your alcoholic mother, and now your very toxic narcissist of a boyfriend.

It's about 4:30 when people start coming in as the day whines down, mainly people who've been up at it all day come in around this time..and you look around in hopes one of your favorites shows up… Joel Miller.

He's a great guy and someone you have always looked for advice from. I guess he was the closest to a father figure in your life. From just coming to talk to at the bar or inviting you to cookouts at Tommy and Maria's. Which you have always been too chicken to show up to because your boyfriend would go fuckin mental if you did. And just like clockwork, he walks through the door. Tight teeshirt, worn-in blue jeans, and some work boots. His salt-and-pepper hair more curly than usual. You aren't gonna dismiss the fact that he's a very handsome man; you've always thought that. But I suppose it's been something you've never really thought in your brain, with him being over 20 years older than you and the fact you’re still in this shitty relationship you can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try, how many times he's cheated, how many times he's put his hands on you. You stay. It's probably the abandonment issues, to be honest.

Hey, darlin’, how are you doing today? Joel says to you as he sits in his usual corner spot on the bar. You just look at him, and it's like he can read your face. "I'm okay, just getting through the day." You crack a smile trying to defuse the conversation. You knew that would eventually start because today you didn't wanna think about your issues. You just wanted to work, make money, and talk to your customers.

"Want your typical order?" Yeah darlin you already knew. You laugh "well Mr miller I seem to know what you like" you seen him smirk and his eyes get dark. Shit you thought.. did I just flirt with him. (Yes you did.) you set his whiskey down, along with a beer. As you do that he notices a light bruise on your cheek bone you attempted to cover with makeup. Darlin.. I don't mean to be rude but what the fuck is on your face.. he reaches up to gently brush your face ..did he- you cut him off. "It's nothing I'm just clumsy and I smacked my face off the sink getting out of the shower." Joel scoffs because he knew it was a lie clear as day. I've told you, you need to leave. You need to take care of yourself because if something happens to you.. he trails off his sentence like he just let more off than he's just a regular at your bar. " Joel I'm fine" you replied. "I have to go out to the shed and change a keg.. I'll be back if you need me."

You go back behind the bar to grab a new beer keg because one blew just before the rush came in and you finally have a moment to fix it. As you're walking outside you feel someone follow you.. here it is your shitty boyfriend paid you a visit. Hey I need $50 he says. " I gave you $100 this morning.. I don't have-" bitch I know you fucking do he yells.. you can tell he's been drinking more than he should have. As he raises his voice at you Joel appears just a few feet down eyeing the situation.

"I said I don't have it.. not until tomorrow.. why do you think I'm working open to close today." I don't know! Boyfriend screams. Probably because you get off on the attention these old men give you because you'd rather be here than be at home with me.. YOUR BOYFRIEND. "Well someone has to pay the bills instead of blowing money on drugs alcohol and who knows what the hell else." DONT YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING WHORE. You are nothing. You work in a bar. In these tiny ass shorts taking money from people that only wanna fuck you.. your gonna be nothing just like your parents.. he grabs your arm hard already leaving hand prints.. you notice Joel has moved just a bit closer with a lit cigarette in hand.

" here take my card there is some money on it, just leave me the fuck alone and don't come back here tonight." You are fighting back tears because this just answered what Joel was asking not even 20 minutes ago. Your boyfriend take the card lets you go and starts walking away. Joel still watching, as boyfriend passes by him. Whores I tell ya, boyfriend tries to joke with Joel.. and Joel looks at him with an expression you've never seen on him.. you've heard he has a dark side but you've never witnessed it until now.. if looks could kill your boyfriend would be dead on the gravel.

You felt so embarrassed.. you knew people knew the situation but you've done pretty good at no one witnessing the shit you deal with. As soon as your boyfriend was out of eyesight you felt this heavy embrace around you as you stand there sobbing. Hey hey hey darlin it's fine.. I'm here we are gonna fix this.. your head is buried into his chest. His warm body on yours, the smell of cologne, whiskey, and cigarettes has taken over your mind.. all these emotions flooding you.. your shitty boyfriend.. how much you hate him.. and oddly enough arousal from being touched gently by a man.. which hasn't happened in god knows how long..

his hands linger on your shoulder as you look up at Joel he's already staring at you. "I need to go back inside..." no he responds take a minute.. you pull away from him and all of a sudden you feel even more empty then you did before.. you came to the realization that you are touch starved and that just ignited a fire in you.

"I have to Joel.. I have to make money because he's going to spend it all, I know he is" you start to tremble again and Joel grabs your face, listen to me... as of right now nothing like this is ever going to happen to you ever again ya hear me...im going to take care of you... "WHY JOEL" you scream at him. "Why because I'm so fucking damaged , because you see a girl with issues and you automatically wanna save- Joel cuts you off by his lips crashing into yours, at first your hesitant and you try to fight it but you couldn't deny that this just what you needed, you needed to feel something besides hate and dread.

You give into the kiss and it gets deeper hungrier, his hands still holding both sides of your face just pulling him closer and close as the kiss gets more passionate you let out a soft moan and that made Joel go crazy. He picks you you up, your lips never leaving one another as you wrap your legs around him and he backs you up against the building, the kisses still building as if that's even possible, Joel's lips eventually leave yours to trace kisses down your neck gently biting, making that soft moan not so soft. Shhh darlin, does this feel good.? "Yes.. uh fuck. Joel put me down." He looks at you confused.

I'm sorry I shouldn't have- "no you should have..

I just hate that it took this situation for it to.. that I'm just not in the best situation right now for this to happen.. that people will have opinions on the age difference "

Then leave him. And fuck em

•

You go back in to finish your shift.. and Joel doesn't leave.. he watched you all night but this time instead of glances of making sure you were okay.. it was glances of pure lust.. pure want.

It's about 2 am now, your kicking everyone out And closing things down. And it hits you that you now have to go home... and you're really unsure if you should.. the bar finally cleared out.. except your kitchen closer.. and one man.. Joel was still here.

"I should get going." You're going home.? He asks concern all over his face. "Joel I have too.. if I don't it's gonna be worse if I do..." don't.. darlin please don't.. we will deal with him.. "Joel there is no we.. sure we shared a moment.. but I'm in a relationship.. and this.. this shouldn't happen I'm the same age as your daughter practically, you know how that will look on me.. on you.. what he will do.."

it kills you saying this because honestly it's the last thing you want to do is hurt a man who has been nothing but kind and caring.. and hell maybe there is something there.. that's the thing you know there is and that scares the hell out of you.

"So yes I am going home." At least let me drive you he says.. "I can't.." give me your phone he demands.. "what why." My number, my address it's there, and take this.. he hands you a wad of money.. you don't even want to know how much is there.. "absolutely fucking not.. Joel.. I can't take your money." You can and you will..he replies.. text me when you get home and I swear if anything goes down if he so much even tries to touch you. You call me. I'm being serious now I ain't playin I mean it you call. "Okay."

Promise me darlin... "I promise."

•

When you make it home it's about 3:15 am.. and your boyfriend isn't home... or so you thought.

"Hey I'm home.. you here.?" You still have your bookbag on.. and you hid the money Joel gave you. "Hello.?" You call out again..

*thud* *thud * followed by moaning..

you scof "you've got to be fucking jokin." You walk upstairs to find your boyfriend fucking another girl. "HEY WHAT THE FUCK" the girl screams. "In our bed!!??? I mean I knew your were shitty but this shitty.!?" He tosses the girl out of the bed and charges toward you.. you fuckin bitch , do you know you ruin my life.. that I have to cheat on you to even get laid.. when's the last time you let me touch you huh.?

He's screaming right in your face backing you up against the railing of the stairs. You shove him.. which you knew was a bad idea because that shove was followed by a punch to the face and a shove that sent you falling down the stairs.. good fuck you you cunt I hope you get brain damage.. oh by the way she sucks better dick than you.. and skinner.

You lay there for a second.. thankfully the fall wasn't as bad as it could have been. You took a quick second to regain your head because you knew he'd be coming down those stairs.. and as soon as you got to your feet here he came..

I need that money.. he screamed.. what did you make tonight being that little whore you are.. huh..? He's standing in front of you now.. give me your book bag. He demands. "No." If you don't give it to me now you bitch I swear to god.. "you swear what huh..?? That you'll hit me.. that you will rape me.. again..?? What else could you do.?"

I'll fucking kill you. He smirks. At the moment you reach for the pocket knife you put in your boot. He chuckled... oh am I supposed to be scared..?? "Don't fucking touch me.. I'm done here okay.. done.. I'm leaving." Fine go.. but give me the money you said you would.. "I gave you $150 in cash.. and there was at least $400 on my card.. what more do you need.!? I'm not giving you anything else ever again..!"

At this moment he's backing you up against the wall his hands heading toward your throat.. and before he could reach them you slice his arm.. YOU CUNT..!! And you took off running to your car.

•

•

You put your car and drive and sped out.. blacked out from trauma and adrenaline not knowing exactly where you were going until you arrived..

The house is what you would think for a well established contractor. Gorgeous but still very homey nothing over the top. You know it's so late and he's probably fast asleep. You're still spiraling as you bang on the door as hard as you can.. because you were unsure if he decided to follow you or if there was a tracker on your car..

"JOEL.! JOEL.! Please answer.. fuckk" and the door swings open and pulls you inside like lightning. Once you're in, he's holding you as you sob. Sob harder than you probably ever have in your whole life.. baby.. hey.. breathe for me okay.. he looks at you.. you need to breathe. " he- you choke- unable to catch your breath about to have a full blown anxiety attack. The knife still in your pocket but it's now stained your shorts with blood..

Joel looks down and then looks back up at you.. is that your blood..? His jaw clenches and his eyes black as the night. " his blood" you managed to say.. he relaxes a bit.. did he follow you..? "I don't think so.. I don't know.. there might be a tracker on my car but I'm unsure.." okay.. I'll go look. Give you a minute to calm down. Let me grab you something to change into... do you want a beer.? "Okay.. and yes.. but Joel..?" Yes darlin.? "Please don't leave me alone for long. I won't.. and thank you for keeping your promise. That made you crack a slight smile. He brings you out a big flannel to put on and a pair of sweats..

you changed collecting yourself in the bathroom. You ended up just wearing the flannel and underwear because it was over sized on you. You walk out into the living room Joel sitting on the couch two beers waiting. "I know you gave me pants but I hate pants and I just want to be comfortable so if it's inappropriate I'll put them on." He chuckles. Babygirl you are worried about not wearing pants.. of all things... you laugh "yeah that's kinda stupid to be the thing I'm worried about isn't it." Are we calmed down..comfortable.. anything else I can get you.? " I'm alright."

Okay.. walk me through what happened.. you explained everything to him.. tonight.. the past 2 years.. all of it. You can stay in the guest room until you figure things out.. I'm not letting anyone hurt you ever again okay... you are safe. "But what about your daughter.. will she be okay with me here, I don't wanna overstep..I'll drive to my parents.. it's better there than being with him."

No.

You are staying here. "Joel I just left someplace that dictated what I did please don't tell me what the hell I should do and where I should stay." He looked hurt. I didn't mean it that way darlin I'm sorry. I just know if you are here you are safe. Sarah will be fine. She comes and goes because she's at college. Not only that maybe you could be friends. You laugh. "Yeah okay be friends with the man's daughter who saved me.. and oh I had a hot make out session with him in the same night that I sliced my boyfriends arm - ex Boyfriend Joel pipes in.. "sounds like a great plan" Joel chuckels. Okay I didn't say it was perfect or ideal or hell not odd but you would be safe and frankly that's all I give a damn about.

•

It's about dawn now and you haven't slept at all.. darlin do you wanna try to sleep Joel asks. "Honestly I don't think I can.." come here.. Joel stretches out on the couch patting up to his chest.. you crawl up to him laying your head right down as he wraps his arms around you. Covering you with the safest you've felt. Do you think you could sleep now.? "No.. but I like this.." you let out a deep breath finally fully relaxing besides the butterflies you feel from being this close to Joel. As you exhale warm lips touch your forehead in a sweet kiss. Hmm..I'm sorry- Joel huffs..

" don't be.. " you lift up pushing your lips onto his and hunger hits.. the kiss was so eager so passionate. Your tongues caress one another begging for more pulling the kiss deeper and deeper as he bites your bottom lip.. you feel heat between your thighs building. " Joel fuck..-mhmm.." his lips leave yours finding your neck.. he goes straight to the spot that made you moan earlier.. as he does this your hands in his hair which is something you fantasized about. You did a slight tug and he himself let out a moan. God baby is this okay..he strares at you as his hands trace down under the flannel to your ass. Grabbing it.. literally worshiping it.. you moan again... I think that's my answer he chuckled.

He continues kissing that sweet spot on your neck and you just feel yourself flooding. Your hands roam around his body as you feel the bulge in his pants.. you carefully squeeze and Joel lets out this animal like moan. He grabs your hands being careful not to be too rough with everything you've been through.. baby don't worry about me let me take care of you..

he shifts you around legs on the floor and he gets between them. Kissing up your legs on your tattoos.. ya know.. I have always found these so sexy.. kissing continues upward. "Mhmmm is that -ahh fuck mhmm.." your sentence is interrupted the touch of his fingers grazing your heat through your panties.. can I take these off..?? He asks. And as much as this is heated he is so gentle with you.. which in this moment is what you needed. " yes" you whimper. He slides your panties off the sides your leg open wide for him to dive his tongue right into your wetness.

Mhmm- your- so- he manages to say between licks- so wet- so soft. You arch back pulling him more into you, grinding yourself on his tongue as he licks and sucks. " ahh I'm ahh fuck I'm-" he then slides 3 fingers in he doesn't even bother building it up because he knew you needed it. Fingers curling right where you need them, in and out of you at just the right pace. You couldn't hold it in anymore you've tried to contain it. The room is filled with your moans of ecstasy.. it all building up.. Joel still working on you, fingers in and it as he sucks gently on your bud.. you reach down and pull his face to you, your wetness on his beard but you didn't care, lips crashing together full of need as Joel still working woks his fingers on you..

"Joel - I " I know baby.. mhmm go'head I got you. Cum for me. Let go. And you did you let go. "Fuck oh my god.. Joel's lips back on yours as you catch your breath and the ecstasy of your orgasam washes away. Feel good? He asks.. "considering there is a puddle on the ground what do you think." Mhmm made a mess for me huh baby.. you blush as that hasn't happened in years. " yes." Let's wash up and try to sleep huh. Joel says. "Okay" you follow him to the bathroom then to his bedroom to sleep.

•

You wake the few hours in Joel's bed. Staring at the ceiling you're not sure how to feel. From pretty much stabbing your ex.. to having Joel give you the best oral you've ever experienced to now laying here naked in his bed. You roll over to find his spot Empty but a note was left.

*darlin I'm sorry to have you wake up alone, had to go check on a project, please text me when you wake.. I'll be day dreaming about drowning in that sweet wetness.*

-Joel

You can't help but to smile.. you check your phone to see you have 59 calls from an unknown number and texts.. which you assume are your ex.. you block and delete all of them.. knowing your going to have to change your phone number.. now you text Joel..

* as lovely as it was to ride your face and fingers I think there is some thing else I want to ride today.. (attached image ) you naked in his bed.

-incoming FaceTime : Joel miller

"Hi"

Hi darlin

"Old man I'm surprised you knew how to FaceTime"

Old.. he chuckles.. this old man knows how to do lots of things..

"I'm well aware"

You work today correct..? I'll be there when I'm finished.. this next part might freak you out but just listen to me.. there is a gun in the nightstand.. I want you to take it with you okay. No arguing just do it.

"Okay.. Joel... I woke up to a bunch of calls and messages im scared."

I know baby take the gun okay.. just precaution.. I'll see you later.. and we can talk about what else you're riding.. oh btw Tommy said hi.

"Jesus Christ Joel you told Tommy.!? Fine whatever hi Tommy. Okay see you later.

*facetime ends

•

You get dressed in clothes you had in your car.. little black skirt.. tank top and Joel's flannel. You pull your hair up into a clip.. doing your makeup the best you can to hide the new bruises.. grab the gun and head out the door.

It's about 4 when you get to work.. and if the timing is right Joel will be here in 45 mins.. when you get there the older lady who you work with pulls you into the kitchen. Sweetie pie you alright..? Your old man was in here looking for ya.. real distressed...said something about you owe him money.. you give in and you tell her everything.. what happened where you've been ..

she's the closest to a mother and if you want to be safe you need the truth out there.

Oh honey I'm so sorry she says.. "it's okay.. it's just time to move on and end this." Sooo Joel miller huh.. she chuckles I mean I can't blame ya he's a gorgeous man and an even better human.. he's been through it too ya know.. she looks at you. " I can tell but I don't ask.. I'm just thankful he exists.. but I'm worried people will judge.." do you think he could make you happy? She asks..

"honestly right now there is not many things I'm sure of.. but he is the one thing I am."

•

Joel walks in.. beautiful as ever. You don't know if it's the left over feelings from making a mess In his living room or if he has always been this attractive.. he hasn't even touched you and you feel a heat between your legs.. but today it's ruthless.. it wild.. it's wanting him in every way possible.

He smiles when he notices that green flannel tied around your waist. You grab his order not even having to ask him and take it over to him.. " Mr miller.. whiskey neat and a beer." You always give me what I want huh darlin. "Is there anything thing else you want Mr miller.." you lean across getting close to him faces inches apart. Actually there is.. but I'm not sure it's appropriate to bend you over in a full bar.. don't want them to hear those sweet little moans..your mouth drops. "

"Is that something you've thought about before..??" If we are being honest here, I've been enchanted by you since you started working here. Your tan skin, your green eyes.. those lips. Your face is now a million shades of red. " I need to work I'll be back..." you take off the flannel revealing the cheeky little skirt you have on that hugs all your curves.. you glance back and Joel looks like he just had to adjust himself.

•

Finally 2 am rolls around.. the bar clears out and it's time to get ready to head home... well Joel's home. Kitchen lady left so now it's just Joel and you left in this bar..

" so Mr miller.. bar is empty.." he cocks his head looking at you.. he sweeps you off your feel planting you on the bar.. mhmm I've thought about you All day he whispers in your ear as he kisses across your jaw working his way down to your neck right to that spot. "Hmmmm yeah what about..." you guide his hands between your thighs to you lacy panties you have on. He doesn't even bother teasing he just reaches right in making your body arch. " daddy please" you smirk because you knew that would unlock something. Circling your bud with the right amount of pressure to get you right where he wants you.. Slid a finger in just because.. and what do you want from daddy.. still sliding that one finger in and out just to keep you on edge..

"I want... ahhh mhmm fuck.. " focus look at me, he cups your face eyes locked in. What do you want.. tell me.. " as much as I want to ride you.. I want you to fuck me.. " how he ask.. still teasing toying with you. " on this bar Joel.. fuck me on this bar.. so when you come in here the only thing you think of is me screaming your name as I cum all over your big cock." He's taken back a but he just looks at you and smiles.

He slides your panties off and pushes your skirt up.. you undo his belt unzipping his tight jeans where you can fully see how hard you have him. You reach in and pull it out, and god is he big, long and girthy you just knew he was going to fill you up. He takes his cock and rubs it against your entrance pre cum on the tip mixing with your wetness. Look at me.. you look up and he pushes his cock into you.. " fuckin Christ.. you fill me up so good.." Joel's thrust starts easy and gentle just getting used to each other building it up. And after each thrust it intensifies as he puts your legs on his shoulders thrusting Even deeper into you.. you gonna cum for daddy he says thurts getting harder and faster like he just can't get enough of you he just needs more and more and more. " yes" you whimper "but only if you cum in me.. I wanna feel you explode inside of me.." that's all it took to send Joel over the limit. Hard thrusts as he reaches up to rub your clit.. "my god- I - I " yes darlin come on I'm right with you.. "ahhh fuckkkkk" you feel it come over you as he fills you up. And you cum together. Joel lays there for a second trying to comprehend that just really happened.. "did we just fucking cum at the same time..?" He chuckles yes we did. He's still inside you. AS he pulls out you feel the hot seed drip out of you. Hell of a day to wear a skirt-

Crash

Window bust.

Grab the gun.

•

You fucking whore.!!! You hear your ex scream. He's standing outside the big window looking in. Joel zips his pants as he plops you off the bar. Gun.. you have the gun..? He looks over to see it already pointed in your exs direction. "Go home.! I told you I'm done leave me alone.!"

No bitch.. come outside and I'll finish what i started yesterday.. you and your geezer, cant believe you'd fuck someone old enough to be your father.. but that makes sense right.. because you never had a daddy.. so you have to fuck the first one who even gives you the closure you need huh.. can he even fuck you.? Actually I just did Joel replied smugly.

"Joel call the cops" you hand him your phone.. not taking your eyes off your ex gun still pointed at him.. oh so you couldn't finish it with your knife.. so sugar daddy gave you a gun..?? your ex chuckles all cocky. He's the one that gives you money.? Huh.? The one that brings you food.? You remain silent ready to pull the trigger.. darlin we have to go outside.. the alarms are going off and the police are here.. "we can go outside through the back.. he will probably meet us there but maybe by then the cops will be here.." Joel leads the way holding your hand that doesn't have the gun in.. if I open this door and he's here I'm beating the hell out of him you hear me.. I don't want that to scare you.. or make you look at me differently.. because once I start I don't think I can stop. he stares at you worried. "Do what you have too." He opens the door and you ex lunges at you. Knocking you to the ground.. gun flying.. he punches you blood everywhere.. But Joel towers over him and pulls him off of you .. Joel lands a few good punches and he doesn't stop.. he keeps hitting him over and over and over.. a truck pulls up.. followed by cop cars.. lady who lives next door comes running over. Oh honey.!!! She says.. pulling you away as Joel is still punching your ex.. Tommy comes running pulling Joel off.. cops swarm around us.. pulling you and Joel separate ways.. "JOEL" you scream. "JOEL." "I need Joel don't fucking touch me.. "

you hyperventilate and pass out.

Part 2 coming soon.

Music gives me most of my ideas or I listen to something and it amplifies it

[alexandralyman]

Joel Miller x Reader

Everyone in Jackson knew that if you went to the Tipsy Bison for a drink on a Wednesday night, it meant you didn't want to leave alone. It's been a long cold winter, and a long time since there was a man in your bed to keep you warm. You knew you'd find one at the Tipsy Bison on Wednesday night, but you weren't expecting it to be the newest resident in town, Joel Miller. While there isn't much left in the world, there's still music and liquor and one night stands.

AO3 link 5,196 words, rated M

Soft!Joel, smut, Reader was an adult when the outbreak happened but there's no exact age given and isn't physically described. Set in Jackson at some nebulous point not long after Joel and Ellie have settled down there.

Everyone in Jackson knew that if you went to the Tipsy Bison for a drink on a Wednesday night, it really meant you didn’t want to go home alone.

You weren’t really sure how Wednesdays had become the town’s unspoken hookup night, the day of the week to wear the one lace bra you owned and leave your hair down loose instead of pulled back in a practical bun when you went to the bar. Not that you went every Wednesday, you hadn’t, actually, in over two months. But it had been an especially cold winter this year, and your bed felt colder still on the long, dark nights without anyone else in it to keep you warm.

So Wednesday night at the Tipsy Bison it was, with your hair down, lace bra pulled from the back of the drawer for the first time in months, and an ache between your legs that needed to be eased with something other than your own fingers. There wasn’t a lot left in the world, you knew you’d never see Hawaii or Paris now or even your own hometown ever again, but you were still a woman and there was still a bar with alcohol and music where you could find a man for the night to take home.

There were a few people already there when you stepped inside, shaking off the cold while all heads turned to check out the new arrival. The first few times you went on a Wednesday instead of another night you were incredibly self-conscious, feeling like there was a neon sign flashing above your head when you walked in the door. COME AND GET IT, or HORNY AND DESPERATE, maybe. Now, you just hung up your coat and took a seat, long past any embarrassment about what you needed to stay sane in an insane world.

Jackson was small, you knew everyone in the bar. Jenna, which meant she and Eric were in the “off again” stage of their perpetual on again, off again soap opera of a relationship. Grant was a few seats down, which was no surprise, he was a total man-whore every day of the week and a Wednesday night regular. Andy, which made you pause for a second because wasn’t he only sixteen like five minutes ago? How could he be old enough for Wednesdays at the Tipsy Bison already? You felt suddenly ancient in a blink and you quickly moved on, shifting your gaze to the man sitting with his back to the far wall, a glass of amber liquor in his hand.

Joel.

Tommy Miller’s brother. The one who’d come clear across the country to find him, a quiet, taciturn man who mostly kept to himself in sharp contrast to the teenage girl he showed up with who swore like a sailor and talked to anyone and everyone. They were new enough in Jackson that you wondered if Joel even knew what Wednesday night meant or if he had just come in for a drink and nothing more. You took another glance, his hair was neatly combed and he was wearing a dark, button-up shirt that wasn’t fancy but also wasn’t one of the plaid flannels that were practically the winter uniform in town.

He knew.

And he looked good.

You’d washed your hair with the good shampoo you saved for special occasions, the stuff Casey made that was scented with lavender. You’d plucked your eyebrows and shaved your legs. Not to get laid, lord knew none of that stuff mattered to the men in town, you did it all for you. To feel like you did before, at least a little bit. Some Wednesdays you hadn’t bothered, just needing to forget everything for a few hours with a man between your thighs fucking you into oblivion and there was always someone there willing to oblige whether your legs were shaved or not. Tonight you’d wanted the anticipation, the ritual of playing music in your bedroom while getting dressed, to remember a time when things like getting that perfect arch to your eyebrows was important and the worst thing that ever happened to you was your parents getting a divorce when you were ten and not the whole world going to shit in a single day.

Music was playing in the Tipsy Bison, not the kind of music you actually liked, but there was music, you had your hair down loose while lace cupped your breasts under your sweater and your legs were smooth and ready to hold a man between them. Not Grant, you’d been there, done that. More than once. Certainly not Andy, who was way, way, way, too young. No one else really appealed to you, except for-

-your eyes flicked over to Joel again, still sitting by the wall with the same glass in his hand that was now almost empty. You hadn’t seen him approach anyone since you arrived, not Jenna, not Louise….

He met your gaze with dark eyes, holding it for several long moments while neither one of you looked away until he downed the last of his drink and stood up. Something fluttered low in your belly, something warmer than the alcohol as he weaved through the tables and came closer, until he was standing next to the empty chair across from yours with one hand resting lightly on the back.

“This seat taken?” he asked.

You smiled up at him. “It is now.”

This was just what you wanted, to flirt with a cute guy at a bar and see where it led. Joel pulled the chair back and sat down with a decent amount of grace for someone who was so broad in the shoulders.

“Not sure if we’ve ever been properly introduced. I’m Joel.”

You hadn’t been, but everyone in town had known who he was within ten minutes of his arrival.

“Tommy’s brother,” you said with a nod.

A wry smile twisted his lips at that, or maybe it was more of a grimace.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Our whole lives it was always the other way ‘round. Everyone used to call him ‘Joel’s little brother’ when we were growin’ up and here everyone calls me ‘Tommy’s brother’ instead. Takes some gettin’ used to.”

It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t used to it yet.

You leaned forward and held out your hand across the table, introducing yourself and adding, “it’s nice to meet you properly, Joel.”

This time you were sure it was a smile as his warm palm dwarfed your own.

You didn’t leave with him immediately even though you’d already made up your mind that Joel—not Tommy’s brother, he was just Joel to you now—was the one you would be going home with tonight. While you’d long since gotten over any hangups you might have had once about one-night stands and casual sex, you did want to learn a little bit more about the man who was going to be inside you later. So you had another drink each and talked for a little while, not about anything serious because you were clearly both here to forget about everything serious for a night, just light, inconsequential small talk. You told him about the last book you read, the movies you grew up with, the kind of music you did like. The female singer-songwriters of the 90s, mainly, Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Fiona Apple, basically anyone who could have performed at Lilith Fair. Joel listened more than he talked, and when he did speak his voice was laced with a Texas drawl like a drizzle of warm honey on fresh-baked bread.

He admitted his taste in music was a little different than yours, which made you laugh, cause, yeah, he didn’t strike you as the type to listen to the Indigo Girls or Juliana Hatfield. He did say he’d check if Jackson’s small library had any of your faves in their collection he could borrow, which both surprised and pleased you at how sincere he seemed about it. He told a silly joke about mermaids, and grinned over the rim of his glass when you laughed again.

It was getting late and people started to drift out the door in pairs. You saw Grant leave with Louise, and Andy, after what looked like some painfully awkward flirting, beamed as he walked out with his arm slung around Erica.

Joel saw it all too, and when the door closed behind yet another makeshift couple he turned back to you with a pointed little cough.

“So…..what Tommy told me about Wednesdays was true?”

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “And just what are you implying by that?”

He immediately leaned back in his chair and started to sputter out an apology, you were pretty sure he even called you “ma’am”. You couldn’t keep up the stern facade for long, not when he looked so sheepish, so you silenced him with a hand laid on his sleeve.

“Joel. I’m kidding. Yeah, it’s true. Wednesdays here are, well, exactly what Tommy told you.”

You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze and the shoulders that were up around his ears relaxed a fraction, although you could see a deep flush had crept up his neck when he reached a hand to scratch behind it.

“Wasn’t sure if he was pullin’ my leg or not,” he mumbled.

“He wasn’t.”

Joel leaned forward again, scooting his chair closer to yours and asking in a low voice, “So, then what he said about Mondays is also true?”

That brought you up short and you felt your brows knit together in confusion. Mondays? What in the world had Tommy claimed happened on Mondays?

“The fuck did he say about…?“

Joel’s lips twitched and that gave him away. You swatted him lightly on the arm as he broke out into a full grin.

“Tommy didn’t say a damn thing about Mondays,” he admitted.

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned with a roll of your eyes. “You got me, Miller.”

Your eyebrows were perfectly arched, your legs were smooth, the liquor was warm in your belly and a man you wanted was flirting with you in a bar. The world outside Jackson didn’t exist, not tonight.

Joel held the door open for you when you left together by unspoken agreement, cause it was Wednesday, and you’d both come to the bar for the same reason. It was even colder now than when you arrived, and when a particularly icy gust of wind swept through on the short walk to your house he immediately wrapped you in his arms and stood between you and the direction it was coming from while your burrowed your face against his broad chest with a muffled, “Fuck!”

There was an amused noise from above you while one of his hands rubbed your back. You could feel it even through your parka, and you snuggled in a little closer. When the wind subsided again you stayed tucked into his side the rest of the way with one of his arms around you, your boots crunching through snow and Joel holding you steady so you didn’t slip.

“Careful, the handrail’s loose there,” you warned him once you reached the stairs to your front porch. Joel glanced at it, then up at your front door.

“You invitin’ me in?”

You were already halfway up the steps just assuming he was going to follow and you turned to look down at him, standing with his shoulders slightly hunched under his jacket even though the wind had died down now. It wasn’t another flirty line, he’d asked it quietly, sincerely, like he really needed to be sure that you wanted this. Wanted him. In your home. In your bed. The joke you were going to make about how you didn’t shave your legs for nothing died on your lips at the uncertain look on his face.

“Yeah, I am. Would you like to come in, Joel?”

He carefully climbed the steps without touching the loose handrail and you opened the door to the small house where the walls were painted colours you didn’t choose and filled with furniture someone else picked out. You’d picked him though, chose him, a little bit of control you still had over your life. The two of you stood close to each other in the tiny entryway unzipping your coats, Joel’s hair wasn’t as neatly combed anymore, not after the wind and you could feel the burn in your cheeks and lips from it as well. He stared openly at your reddened mouth, his dark eyes fixed firmly on it and you saw his throat bob with a heavy swallow.

Then you were kissing, a little awkwardly at first with the bulk of half-unzipped coats in the way. His lips were dry, chapped, but you didn’t care, not when you felt the kiss right down to your toes. Joel tasted like the liquor and he kissed like a drowning man looking to steal the air from your lungs. You gave it to him gladly, fumbling blindly with the zipper on his coat to finish pulling it down. He caught on quickly, doing the same to yours and soon both were puddled on the floor. As soon as your arms were free of the sleeves you had them around his neck and he had you pressed to the wall. As gasp escaped your lips that was loud in the quiet of a Jackson night as his body caged yours and an answering sound came from the man who clearly wanted this as much as you did. He had your leg hiked up by the knee with one hand and the other was shoved under your sweater, you could let him fuck you right then and there with his boots still on, get your itch scratched enough to keep you going for another day, a week, maybe a month.

It wasn’t enough.

“Joel?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Take me to bed.”

You whispered it against his mouth, wanting more tonight. Needing more tonight. He made another low noise that echoed right between your legs, where he’d slipped one long, denim clad thigh to press against where you burned the most. You mourned the loss of it when he pulled back even as you took him by the hand to lead him up the stairs to your bedroom, where you’d added a few touches to try to make the space more your own. Swapped out the curtains, banished an ugly lamp and put a vase in its place that you’d made with your own hands because you’d thought pottery could be your thing now. It wasn’t, the vase was somewhat lopsided but you kept it anyway and filled it with wildflowers in the summer.

Right now it stood empty on the dresser waiting for the flowers to bloom again while Joel pulled you to him, large hands curving around your waist. He wordlessly tugged off your sweater, lifting it over your head and revealing the bra underneath. Black lace barely covered your breasts, your nipples firm points against the delicate material that ached to be touched.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight, his voice a low rasp. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He trailed his hands up your ribs and then he was cupping your breasts, thumbing over your nipples through the lace and making them ache even more. You went for the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with eager fingers to reveal the hard planes of his broad chest.

“You ain’t so bad yourself, handsome.”

Your piss-poor attempt at a Southern drawl made him huff, shaking his head even as his ears flushed crimson at the compliment. Accent that was as bad as your pottery aside, you weren’t lying. His chest wasn’t the only thing that was broad, he had shoulders for days and hands that spanned your entire ribcage. The shirt quickly joined your sweater on the floor and Joel let you push him backwards towards your bed, sitting down heavily on the mattress when it hit the backs of his thighs. It squeaked, loudly, and he gave you a knowing look with a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smirk.

“Good thing I live alone,” you said with a shrug.

With him seated and you standing you could look down at him, brush your fingers across the freckles and marks on his shoulders to trace imaginary constellations while his hands slid up your back and undid your bra with easy dexterity. The lace fell away and left you fully bare from the waist up, breasts at the perfect height for his mouth. Joel obviously had the same thought because his lips immediately closed around a pebbled nipple, tongue flicking over it and making it go even more taut with need. You ran your fingers through his greying hair, a reminder that while he was new in town he was definitely the older Miller brother.

Joel glanced up at you with those molasses-dark eyes of his before he switched to the other breast, licking and sucking and swirling and driving you crazy. His hands were as busy as his mouth, popping the button on your jeans and tugging them down your hips. Your underwear didn’t match your bra, plain cotton instead of lace, but you're pretty sure he didn’t notice with his face still buried in your breasts. Once you’d stepped out of them and kicked the last of your clothes aside his arms tightened around your waist and he lifted you onto the bed in one smooth motion, rolling you neatly onto your back. The mattress squeaked again in protest but you didn’t care, not with the way Joel was hovering over you. His mouth was hot on your skin, trailing along your neck, your collarbone, the valley between your breasts, and a hand slid even lower to find you already wet and so, so ready.

“Oh darlin’,” he groaned. “I could just slip right in, couldn’t I?”

It had been way too long since you had anything except your own fingers to ease the burning need, too long since there was a man in your bed to make it (and you) squeak. Joel was braced above you, belt undone and his jeans hanging open. There was a line of silvered hair that ran down his stomach and disappeared into dark boxers already tented with his erection. He didn’t make a move to finish undressing, too busy teasing you with fingers so much larger and thicker than your own. Your hips rolled into his touch and you spread your legs shamelessly wider, chasing more of the sensation that was building under your skin into a fever pitch. Joel watched your face with an intensity that made you shiver even though you were anything but cold, still ignoring his own obvious need and staying out of reach of your hand when you tried to touch him too. He slid down the bed and took a nipple back into his mouth instead, right as he pushed two fingers deep inside you. They stretched you so deliciously, pressing and curling against your inner walls while he ran his tongue around the tight peak of your nipple. You were writhing under him now, hands fisting in the faded comforter and soft cries falling from your lips as your head tipped helplessly back into the pillow.

Joel found your clit with his thumb and rubbed it, just the right side of rough and it wasn’t long before you clenched around his fingers and came in a hot rush that washed over you like the tide on a beach you’d never see. He stroked you through it, drawing it out and when he finally pulled back you opened your eyes just in time to see him pop his damp fingers in his mouth and a rapturous expression cross his face like he’d just tasted a delicacy he hadn’t had in a very long time. Your own hand drifted absently across your bare stomach, legs splayed open wide while he knelt between them. Joel finally shoved his jeans and underwear off and you saw that his fingers weren’t the only thing about him that were thick and long. His erection slapped against his palm with a loud thwack, filling his hand as he gave himself a few quick pumps from root to tip. Then he was on you again, body braced above yours in the bed someone else bought, in a house that still doesn’t really feel like your home.

“Invite me in,” Joel said, asked, begged, his nose bumping against yours. He was holding himself back, the head of his cock positioned right at your entrance without slipping inside. You didn’t know what drove him to the Tipsy Bison to find someone tonight, but it was clear that he needed to be wanted, needed to be desired, and fuck, you did. You would gladly give him what he asked for tonight.

“Joel, I want you inside me. Now.”

He made a choked sound like he wasn’t expecting it, even though you were naked and spread underneath him. You lifted your hips in another invitation, a silent one this time, and his forehead pressed to yours as he entered you at last. Now you were the one gasping, clutching at his shoulders while he pressed in deeper. There was almost no resistance despite just how fucking big he was and yet he still moved with such care, taking his time to work himself in until he was buried all the way to the hilt. Your soft exhale was met by his sharp inhale, and you both stayed like that for several moments before you dug your fingers into his skin and he started to move. Long, deep rolls of his hips, his cock gliding across every last nerve ending inside you when he pulled out and filling you where you’d been so empty and alone when he thrust back in.

You weren’t alone now.

Joel found an angle you particularly liked and the noise you made in response was almost embarrassing in how needy and desperate it was. He smirked at it, driving into you with another deep thrust and leaning down to brush his mouth against yours.

“You like that?” he asked, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and worrying it gently.

“Yeah,” you moaned, still holding onto his shoulders while he moved above you. “Do it again!”

“Anything you want, darlin’.”

You wanted so many things you couldn’t have, things you tried not to think about most of the time because it hurt too much. Now you just wanted this, burying your fingers in the damp hair at the nape of his neck to hold him close while he flexed his strong hips and picked up the pace. The bed did more than just squeak now, the headboard banged against the wall and threatened to fall apart completely from the force of Joel’s fucking and still he didn’t stop.

“Fuck!” he swore, looking down at you with his face contorting in pleasure and the cords on his neck and arms starting to pop. “Feels so fucking good.”

You wanted to make it even better, so you clenched your inner muscles around him tight on his next thrust. Joel’s movements finally faltered, his eyes falling shut and his breath coming in harsh pants.

“Christ,” he ground out, “squeeze me, darlin’, squeeze me just like that.”

He held himself still inside you as you worked and squeezed his cock, and you would have sworn he went even harder in response. Fuck, you were going to feel him all day tomorrow.

Good.

When he started to move again it was even more frantic, his biceps bulging with the effort and his sweat-slick skin meeting yours in a hot slide when he shoved one arm under you and lifted your hips clear up off the bed. You wrapped your legs tight around him and kept squeezing on each of his thrusts as best you could while he hit your sweet spot over and over and over again at an even more devastating angle than the first.

“Oh God,” you moaned, hanging on for dear life and so close to falling apart again. “Joel…Joel!”

“Right here, darlin’, I’m right here.”

He felt like he was everywhere, his chest against your breasts, long legs between yours, his lips finding patches of skin on your jaw, your neck, your shoulder and pressing hotly against them. When you came again he was locked tight in your body, his rough groans mixing with your wordless cries as you shook underneath him. If the bed was still squeaking you couldn’t even hear it now over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Joel fucked you through it and drew the pleasure out with deep, grinding thrusts.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he finally gasped out. “Squeezin’ me like a godddamn vice. Wanna….fuck, wanna come inside you.”

You burned even hotter at the utterly wrecked tone in his voice as his hips pressed into yours. It was safe to let him, you took care of that years ago. So you wrapped your legs even more firmly around his waist, not letting him pull out to finish anywhere except where you both wanted him to so badly.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

That was all Joel needed to fall over the edge, his jaw clenched and his forehead tipped to yours while you felt his cock throb and pulse with his release. He flooded you with warmth, enough to keep the cold at bay. So too did the weight of his body when he finally softened and collapsed down into your arms, pillowing his head on your breast with a sigh.

“So,” he mumbled, after a few minutes of not uncomfortable silence where you’d caught your breath and your heart rate had gone back to normal. “Why Wednesdays?”

You lifted one bare shoulder in a shrug. “Don’t know. It’s as good a day as any, I suppose.”

“Tommy said it’s because Wednesday is hump day.”

That made you snort. “Seriously?”

“You see why I didn’t fully believe him.”

You looked down at Joel, naked and sprawled half on top of you with an arm flung across your waist. You believe him now?”

“Yeah, but I ain’t telling him that,” he said.

Brothers. You rolled your eyes even as you stroked your fingers through his hair.

He didn’t leave immediately afterwards, nor did he stay the whole night. You watched him dress, buttoning up his shirt and pulling his jeans back on while you lounged on your side in the rumpled mess of sheets with one hip bared and made no move to get up. You felt like you should throw something on and see him out properly, but you were just too comfortable. Plus you weren’t sure if your legs would even support you at the moment.

The decision was made when Joel pulled the comforter over you and said a quiet “goodnight, darlin’” before he was gone. You heard him go down the stairs and the sound of your front door opening and closing. No one in Jackson really bothered to lock their doors.

Not when the whole town itself was locked up tight.

There were only a few hours left to try to get some sleep before you needed to get up and head out for your work assignment. You were definitely in for a rough morning, but as you rolled over and closed your eyes with the echo of Joel on your skin you regretted nothing.

It was worth it.

*******

Thursday passed uneventfully. You were only a few (okay, maybe twenty) minutes late for your shift. Stable duty, filling water buckets, hauling hay and mucking out stalls. It didn’t smell great, but you didn’t mind.

You’d smelled way worse.

Besides, you had the memory of the night before replaying in your mind even as your hair was tied up in a practical bun and the lace bra was tucked away in a drawer again. You kept picturing the look on Joel’s face when he first sank inside you, remembering the broad expanse of his bare back under your hands, the heat from his mouth on your neck, your breasts…..

Thankfully the horses were more interested in their feed than the blush on your cheeks when you tossed hay into their stalls.

After your shift was over you stopped by town hall and filled out a request form for the handrail on your porch to be fixed, had something to eat in the communal mess cause you couldn’t be bothered to cook tonight, and finally headed home. You hadn’t seen Joel around all day, and while you hadn’t gone looking for him, you also weren’t trying to avoid him either. Jackson was too small for that, at some point you were gonna run into him again. He might pretend like it never happened and while that would certainly sting, you’d live. It wouldn’t be your first one-night stand.

Cold air filled your lungs on the solitary walk back to your house, hands shoved deep in your pockets and your boots crunching along the snow. Spring was still at least a month away, maybe more. Until then you’d have to make do with other ways to stay warm. Coats. Hats.

A dark-eyed man and the blazing heat found in his arms.

When the little house with its painted shutters and the wide front porch came into view you hurried the last few steps and were so eager to get inside and out of the cold that you reached for the loose handrail out of habit, realizing your mistake a second too late.

It didn’t wobble.

You gave it a little shake, and it stayed firmly in place. That’s when you noticed the gleam of metal from new screws, the fresh marks on the wood from where rough edges had been sanded smooth. You frowned at it, the work request you put in wouldn’t have been done this quickly. A single loose handrail was hardly urgent with everything else needed to keep Jackson running, you weren’t really expecting anyone to even come look at it for at least a week.

Joel.

It had to have been him, coming by at some point when you were out to fix it. And not sloppily either, when you gave it another, harder shake it stayed firmly in place. The porch steps were swept clean of snow, the walkway had been shovelled too. Sometimes you just didn’t bother, only making enough of a path to get in and out instead of clearing it all away.

For some reason, the simple fix made your house feel a tiny bit more like home.

You’d be sure to thank Joel, the next time you saw him. Jackson was small, it wouldn’t take long to run into him somewhere, at the library, the mess hall, the town square. Maybe he’d like to come over again when you did.

It didn’t matter what day of the week it was, you would invite him in.

[layaispunk]

storm and solace - chapter 1

pre-outbreak!joel miller x oc

series masterlist | chapter 2

series summary: When Elle moves into her late grandfather’s house, she doesn’t expect to develop a slow, aching crush on the quiet man living across the street. Joel Miller is older, rough around the edges, and carrying more weight than he lets on—but there's something about him that feels safe. What starts as passing glances and awkward hellos slowly becomes the one thing she didn’t realize she was searching for: a place to belong, a family.

wc: 1.2k

description: pre-outbreak!joel miller, there's a chance that i also write the outbreak in this series and it will cover some game/tv show events ... will update as needed. eventual smut. joel is 36, tommy is 32, sarah is 14, and elle is 26.

pairing: joel miller x original female character (elle)

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, age gap, references to parental issues, implied mental health struggles, and the miller bros being sexy.

a/n: i am SO excited to share this with you all!! it's been sitting in the drafts for a while ... but this story starts off in spring time so i decided that it's time. I normally write joel x reader fics, so writing about an original charater was new. Elle is a sweetheart, and i hope you love her as much as I do. Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapters! i'll also be doing a masterlist for this series soon

Texas is not usually this warm around spring time, but today, the sun felt unbearable. Elle is standing outside what used to be her grandfather's home, sweat dripping down her neck, as she takes in the little cul-de-sac neighbourhood. Everything is so still and so quiet. “can’t believe it," she muttered, smiling to herself, trying to imagine herself fitting in this place. It was a fresh start - Elle lived in the city all her life.

A few months ago, her grandfather passed away and long story short, this 1 bedroom, 1 story house was all hers. She didn’t have a great relationship with her parents, so moving away to the city for college was good for her mental wellbeing. But college is over, and she couldn’t bare staying with her parents anymore. It was funny, how this happened so fast, it was like the Universe said “i’m hearing you girl!”. As she was driving here, Elle blasted  Lana Del Rey’s Honeymoon album, and she couldn’t help but feel like those main characters in movies. The truck she rented for the drive was nearly falling apart, and she struggled to lift the boxes filled with her belongings in front of her house, she wondered if she’d fit in. Elle always felt like an outsider - no matter where she went. Her melancholic thoughts came to a halt when an unfamiliar voice broke through the silence. 

"Sorry, ma'am - hi. need a hand with those?" a guy in a worn-out shirt was walking towards her slowly, a smile already on his face. Elle froze for a second, contemplating if she should tell him everything was fine or accept his help. The boxes were heavy, and the heat was leaving her exhausted. She wasn’t very keen on asking for help. She’s quite the avoidant type - never had anybody to lean on, just herself. But she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to make a friend, especially when he looked as good as he did.

His hair was a little curly, and a little damp. His forehead glistened with sweat, and he wore a worn white T-shirt with a faded print she couldn’t quite make out - some old band maybe, and jeans that clung to his legs just right, tucked into scuffed-up boots that looked like they’d been through a couple lifetimes.

He had freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, sun-kissed and easy to look at. But what caught her more were the faint crow’s feet by his eyes - lines carved from years of laughing too hard or squinting into the sun. Something about them made him feel familiar, even before he opened his mouth. She was staring. ”Oh ... hi. I'm Tommy, Tommy Miller, I live-" he paused, glancing back over his shoulder to gesture towards the house across the street. His eyes caught on an older, broad-shouldered man striding toward them, his expression almost frustrated. "Ah shit, here he comes-" he clears his throat. "Well, my brother, Joel, actually lives there." he pointed to the beautiful house across the street with a sheepish grin, nodding towards the man approaching. 

Elle blinked, trying to keep up with what was happening. Her gaze averted to Joel, he said?

Broad shoulders, worn flannel sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. His hair was messy, curling just slightly at the ends, with one stray curl falling over his brow like it refused to be tamed. There was a quiet intensity to him … something in the way he stood, like he wasn’t used to relaxing, even in a neighborhood this quiet. His hands were large, rough like he’s the type of man who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it meant taking care of something.

She couldn't help but stare for a few seconds longer than she should have.  Are the men in Texas this attractive? ”Sorry about him. I'm Joel. Do you need any help?" Joel's voice was low, steady and somehow polite despite the slightly cold expression on his face. Tommy turned, throwing his brother an exaggerated look. "Dude." 

Elle smiled shyly. "Yeah. Hi, it's nice to meet you both. I’m Elle. Elle Barnes.” She took a deep breath. “Um… that would be great, I just need to put these inside. They're a bit heavy." Her voice came out steady, and she quickly glanced away hoping none of them noticed the slight flush on her cheeks. 

Elle took a deep breath, trying to take it all in.  This was new. She thought it would take her days to build up the courage to make a friend in this neighborhood. She shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling the weight of everything she left behind. She thought about home, if she could even call it that anymore. How she walked away from a life that had unraveled her completely.

"Jesus girl, what'd ya pack in here?" Tommy's voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to reality. Seriously, she needed to stop being in her own little bubble. Elle smiled. "My painting supplies are in that box. Be careful, please." Tommy smiled, feeling a rush creep up to his neck. 

He hadn't expected to be this close to her. She was beautiful. Slim, with long legs that seemed to go on forever. Her collarbones were defined, peeking out from the red top she wore - one that just barely hinted at the curves beneath. His eyes drifted down without meaning to, catching the subtle way the top accentuated her figure. 

Tommy’s gaze lingered on her worn-in cowboy boots, the scuffed dark brown leather hinting at their age, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d worn them hoping they’d make her blend in a little better here.

Tommy wiped his hands on his jeans as he set the last box down in the corner of the little kitchen, while Joel was looking around, making sure nothing was broken. “Well, that’s the last of it,” Tommy said, glancing around the space. It was ... cozy. The open layout was inviting. In the kitchen, there was a large window overlooking the back porch - her easel could fit perfectly there. 

Elle stood by the doorway, feeling a little breathless. “Thank you so much, both of you.” she said sincerely, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I owe you one.”

Tommy stepped closer, a lopsided grin on his face. “It’s nothin’. Glad I was there to help. If you need anything, you know where to find us” He gestured toward the door where Joel had completely disappeared a few seconds earlier. "We should uh.... exchange numbers, maybe? You can give me a call if you need me with anything?"

Elle smiled softly. Friendship. It felt nice. "Yeah! yeah sure." She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and handed it to him, her cheeks slightly red. 

“Got it. Don't hesitate to call, alright?" he said, stepping back toward the door.

With that, he gave her a quick nod and disappeared out the door, leaving Elle standing alone in the quiet, box-filled space. She let out a deep breath and looked around. For the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of hope - like maybe, just maybe, this place could be a fresh start.

thankyou so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed the first chapter. i'll try to post chapters weekly (gonna do a masterlist now) 💋💋💋

divider from @fawnlisbon

comment if you want to be in the taglist

[thetrialsandtribulationsofeb]

every time someone says that eddie doesn’t love buck as much as buck loves him -

ughhhhh, what are you talking about?

buck, the guy with abandonment issues because everyone is always leaving. not caring enough. not needing him enough. not seeing him

and here comes eddie, who makes him his partner and his bestie, who always makes him feel like he and chris are his home. they’re always here. they need him. they want him. he is part of their life now

you can have my back any day (i trust you). and i’ll have yours (you can trust me). it’s a deal.

anyways, that won’t happen to us. (it better not)

he’s hanging out with his buck today!

you saved him. that’s how he remembers it.

but i love him enough to never stop trying, and i know you do too.

there’s nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you.

i couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail…

did you ever stop for a minute to think what it could do to us?

i forgive you. also, what it means to be part of a team.

this is eddie’s house. i’m not really a guest.

you’re a miracle worker.

(they never wanted another kid. they just had me for parts. defective parts, as it turned out.) hey, that’s not on you.

(i had to do it.) i know you did.

are you hurt?

it’s in my will - if i die, you become christopher’s legal guardian. no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you. that is what i want for him.

you act like you’re expendable. but you’re wrong.

you’re stuck with us.

(yeah, i know i’m the guy that always wants to fix everything.) hey, comes in handy when you have a bunch of holes in your wall.

(we’ll do our best!) do more!

welcome back to the world of the living, buck. you were missed.

this doesn’t change a thing between us. (i love you and accept you exactly the way you are, and i’m always there for you)

what you always do. just talk to him.

i do not know what i’m gonna do without you.

it’s not nothing.

i don’t like it any more than you do.

if you’re gonna make this about me having to choose between you or my son, you’re gonna lose every time. (buck obviously knows it, so it was a reminder to himself, because eddie had to make this choice too)

but i hope you know, you do matter to me.

appreciate you, buck.

with every word and every action, eddie shows:

i don’t care how much you fuck up. i love you. i want you. i need you. i’m not going anywhere. i’m always here. i always have your back. that was the deal.

the only time i push you away is when i’m too caught up in my own pain. but it has nothing to do with you. you’re still my safe space. you’re the one i can be myself with. you’re the one i want to have in my life always.

buck’s acts of service for eddie are usually loud and definitive,

but eddie’s act of service for buck is staying. being present. being consistent. carving out a space for him in his life and saying, “this is it. you’re now part of my life. you always have a home here”

eddie makes buck feel needed. he makes him feel wanted and valued. he shows him that buck matters to him, that he sees him

i feel like buck doesn’t really need someone to go to great heights for him the way he does for the people he loves. i feel like he just wants people to understand him, to recognize his efforts, and to appreciate him the way he is. and this is exactly what eddie does

buck’s parents “looked through him”, his romantic partners didn’t care about him enough - abby leaving and not even bothering to properly break up with him, ali thinking she couldn’t handle his lifestyle, taylor always putting her work first, natalia doesn’t even count, tommy only getting with him out of convenience and breaking up with him because of insecurity and indifference. (by the way, i don’t think they were all evil for breaking up with him - it’s just that none of them were on the same page with him. they didn’t fit. relationships are often a two-way street, after all)

all buck ever wanted is to be seen, to be needed, to be wanted. eddie is the one who gives him that. he’s the one who loves him as much as buck loves him. buck might be head over heels for eddie, but eddie is just as head over heels for buck - it’s just that the way he shows his love is more quiet, but it’s persistent and stable, and it’s kind of exactly what buck needed all along

and it just so happened that he found the kind of love he was searching for in the face of his colleague and best friend. he just needs to realize that his quest for a romantic partner is over because he already found the treasure - he just had no idea he did, or that it was even an option

and it makes me very emotional that buck was looking at that old couple’s album in “buck, actually” and had no idea that he already met someone to spend his whole life with - and that this person was standing right by his side, and that it was his best friend (with whom they became besties suspiciously fast, lmao - but that’s just how soulmates work)

i know it was accidental, but honestly, that’s what makes it even better ’cause they’re soulmates through and through. even the writers couldn’t have predicted it

[hunter470]

My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply. 

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen. 

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want. 

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said. 

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending. 

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last. 

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong. 

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time. 

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job. 

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess. 

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

[kechiwrites]

mirror image

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 7/8

synopsis: two weeks into your uneasy truce, simon gets introspective.

wc: 811

cw: afab!reader, angst, banter that becomes arguing, hurt and the tiniest bit of comfort, language, trust issues, simon's pov, no gendered language. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: well, we back at it, the second last installment of this verse. i'll still take requests/thots for it of course, but soon we'll get closure for these two. for now, simon's thoughts on their situation.

new to baby blue? start here.

It’s disarming. 

And Simon Riley doesn’t like being disarmed. He doesn’t like being caught off guard, off kilter, unstable. 

It’s been happening more and more often though.

When you and Tommy look at him in perfect unison, he is struck stupid by your eyes, like you copy and pasted them onto your son. His son. His kid. His perfect, funny kid. Unmuddied by everything bad in the world. His life is pancakes and dinosaurs and that horrible fucking tv show that he’s sure rots his little mind. His life is you. Your smiles, your laugh, your cooking, your hugs. Things Simon cheated himself of when he walked out on you, choked with fear and bleeding misery.

Simon is disarmed, totally fucking helpless, a veritable babe in the woods when you let him hold you. When for the first time, in a long ass time, he gets to watch your lids flutter closed and slip into unconsciousness, in that quick, carefree way he’s always envied. 

He barely sleeps, even less so lately. 

After all, no sleeping meant no nightmares. No cloying, choking smoke-like fears reaching for the frayed edges of his subconscious. No sleeping meant he couldn’t play on your kindness, your goodness, and guilt you into holding him back when he woke up screaming, sweating, no matter how bad he wanted it.

It’s two weeks later. Two weeks after sleeping together but not sleeping together. After breakfast and an uneasy truce. Two weeks after kissing you and touching you and holding you like you both had all the time in the world. 

You’re not in a good mood. And he knows that. But he pushes you anyway, pokes and prods you even as you slam through your kitchen, noisily pulling out a pot and a huge bag of pasta shells.

“Let’s talk.” He approaches, arms crossed, full kit traded in for a skull emblazoned cloth mask, jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt, one he’d found in your bedroom days ago, stashed in the back your drawer, crumpled in a wrinkled ball, like you didn’t want to see it, but you didn’t want to trash it either. He’s been doing that lately, staying over for days and rifling through your shit, finding old relics and artifacts from a time neither of you can let go of. An old mask, a hat, t-shirts.

So many goddamn t-shirts.

“Talk?” you snort derisively, filling the pot with water. He watches you test the water with your fingertips and curse under your breath, mumbling something about shit pipes. When the pot is full, you turn to face him, lips curled, sneering. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of that. Thought you just communicated in grunts.”

“You’re funny. That's new.” He jabs, advancing in the conversation much faster than he should have, comforted in familiar territory, finding solace in what used to be commonplace for you, banter, barbs, teasing. The tense set of your shoulders should’ve warned him off it, should’ve told him you’d take it as well as a bullet in the back. But God help him, he’ll take whatever you give.

“Mm.” Your tone is casual but your answering nod is jerky, too fast, “Yeah, I developed a sense of humour when I realized our relationship had been a joke.” You slam the pot onto a burner, giving him your back. 

The air is suddenly devoid of mirth, utterly obliterated where it had been floating between you before. Now the living room and kitchen are a smoking crater, an oil rig on fire, a disaster site. 

He’s never been more grateful for his son’s propensity to nap like he’s dead.

Neither of you say anything. Simon is waiting for you to say something, to dress him down, but when you lower your head and sigh, heavy and deep with pain and exhaustion he planted within you, Simon withers. He slinks back to the living room and drops himself onto your couch. 

You wait, he’s not sure what for. He used to be so good at preempting your actions, your thoughts, your words, now he handles you like you’re a venomous reptile, looking for exposed, vulnerable flesh to strike, to bite.

You set down the glass you’d been drinking from hard. And he’s surprised you didn’t crack it.

“What do you want, Simon?” Question of the goddamn century, it is. And you’ve asked it of him plenty of times. But he never has an answer, can never really deduce just what the fuck he’s doing here, with you. With Tommy. Playing a game? Playing a role? Punishing you? Himself? All of it could be true, but none of it seems right. 

“I want to try.”

All he knows is that before this, four years seemed like a short time, nothing really. But now?

It’s an eternity. Reflected back to him in broken glass, in half full drawers, in his son’s eyes. 

In yours.

comments + tags + reblogs are so appreciated

oh simon...what do you want?

series masterlist here

[aaronsinferno]

Ryan is fighting tooth and nail to get them to understand that Eddie is, always has been, and always will be straight. From repeatedly calling Eddie a heterosexual male to stating how important it is for the show to display the relationship between a heterosexual guy and his queer best friend or brother.

Yet, it all gets overlooked and shot down by those online who swear they’re in it for the representation and storytelling. The same people who disregarded every other queer character on the show and who are actively targeting the current one.

Buddie isn’t happening. Not in the context they want it to anyway. Eddie is straight. It doesn’t matter what the writers thought of doing or considered in some room one day a few years ago. Eddie Diaz is a heterosexual man and that most likely won’t change. I don’t even think Ryan wants to play a queer character.

Buck is bisexual. Regardless if Tommy sticks around or not (I personally hope he stays) or if Buck decides to date women from now until the series ends, he’s still bisexual.

What those disgruntled shippers are doing to BuckTommy is nothing new. They think that harassing and attacking LI’s is what gets them removed from the show. They pride themselves because of it.

But what they’re doing to Lou is being done out of pure and genuine intimidation. They know that there’s potential and know that there’s a chance Tim might want him to stick around and they hate it. That’s why the hate aimed at him is so loud and strong. They don’t want him gone, they need him gone to fit whatever narrative they’ll collectively decide will apply to buddie after the fact.

And if you think I’m making any of this up, just search Lou’s name on twitter. Click on their pages and scroll. They don’t shy away from it or feel ashamed in any way. They’re poison

[starstruckbyacomet]

Ep. 8x12 "Disconnected" –Recap/Review by Katie Stoetzel & Elizabeth Learned

Continuing the previous episode, Katey Stoetzel and Elizabeth Learned wrote recaps/reviews for ep. 8x12:

Katie Stoetzel from But Why Tho?:

Elizabeth Learned from Precinct TV:

Both journalists are very pleased with the episode. Here are some interesting parts from their articles:

From Katey Stoetzel:

"There’s something about this back half of 9-1-1 Season 8 that has continuously put out strong episodes, and that’s because of a refocus on what matters — characters not named Brad.😂🤣😂."

"...the show found “God” with Rob Benedict in a guest role. (Sorry, but me and the millions of Supernatural fans will get it.)" 🎬😂

"This kind of storytelling was critically missing from the first half of 9-1-1 Season 8. Many character arcs didn’t seem to flow from episode to episode or even from scene to scene. Seeing Maddie’s recovery continue two episodes later, even after a quick check-in in 9-1-1 Season 8 Episode 11, showcases more authentic and well-rounded characters, emphasizing that what happens to them actually matters."

"...that house is a great metaphor for Eddie and his relationship with his son. As he works to fix things with Chris, he fixes up his house..."

"This is another example of follow-through storytelling. In 9-1-1 Season 8 Episode 11, Buck tells Maddie that he’ll call Eddie eventually. Here, they continue their friendship across states."

"Buck’s insistence to Eddie that he stay in Texas is also a huge indicator of his growth, considering the past three episodes featured his grief over his best friend moving."

From Elizabeth Learned:

"The 118th episode of 911 truly felt like a love letter to two characters...."💌

"It was difficult to see Eddie give up something he loved, but he was doing it for an important reason."

"...even though Helena was trying to bridge the gap between Eddie and Chris, we know Eddie needs to have a talk with her about a lot of things..."

"It [this episode] was a great tribute to their [Maddie & Eddie's] characters, and showed how the love for their children allowed them to overcome the obstacles they needed to forge ahead."

"While Buck was on the phone, we spied a champagne bottle in his refrigerator. Is this the same one Tommy left in the freezer at the end of the previous episode? Will it be important later? Time will tell!"🍾🤯 👀

[epiphainie]

a little cynic hours but while i understand the "what was the point of all this?" reaction very well, because i feel it too, the simple matter of fact is the point was to make an interesting season of a show. i'm not saying the way it happened didn't feel abrupt, because it did, but the point of buck's character at the end of the day is to bring in the new love interest, the new romance, the new breakup drama to this show. and these arcs can be valuable stories in their own right, buck can take something worthwhile from them and change as a character, but this decision makes me believe - or remember - that this show will never commit to changing the status quo in big ways. because who will fill that role if buck is taken? who will fill their role if henren are happy with their children? who will fill his role if eddie genuinely moves on from his grief? they will never have buck figure out his love life like bathena will never divorce and chimney will never get hurt and maddie won't stop reliving the doug drama. not in any permanent ways. i think this is what hurts me the most right now because i want buck to have arcs that are meaningful and impactful to his character. and yeah his relationship with tommy, him realizing he's bi, will always be meaningful - like i said these stories have value on their own even without staying power - but nothing will upend the function he has in this show as a narrative tool on its head. nothing will if the most promising choice didn't.

[justchillandshipit]

I don't know why I'm seeing so many posts that are upset about Lou's Interview.

Yes, he said he cried. Yes, he said that Buck was the love of his life, but those are his feelings and perhaps Tommy's feelings. They do not reflect Buck's feelings.

Unless Minear does a major retcon for Buck, his canon reaction to Josh asking if he was in love with Tommy was this...

Josh: Do you love him?

Buck: Do I love him?

____

Buck, out of anger, also tells Tommy, "I don't have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for, and I don't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with." He says this after their hookup the previous evening. This is talked about so much in fandom, I'm surprised it has to be repeated.

____

Lou's statement could just be his opinion of his character, but even if it is Tommy's real feelings, it doesn't represent Buck's.

What it does mean is that Tommy was right. He is not going to be Buck's last. The longer he stays with Buck, the more Tommy will feel hurt when the competition shows up. Buck has always been spinning toward Eddie. Eventually, he will crash into him. When that happens, only an idiot would try to keep them apart.

The thing is, if Tommy already feels this way about Buck, he really is going to be hurt when Buck ends up with Eddie, no matter what. Breaking up with Buck didn't change that. It did shift the blame for the relationship off of Buck though. If he were smart, he would have stuck it out and enjoyed the time he had. So he has no one to blame but himself at this point.

----

As for his statement that they are soulmates, I'm not mad that he said this. However, this is entirely Lou's opinion. I'm a Buddie shipper. Fact. I don't deny it. I'm also not a Lou hater. I wouldn't call myself a fan either. I'm indifferent. In this case, quite frankly, I'd love to see Lou's receipts. I'd like to know what has happened, specifically, between these two characters that makes him think they are soulmates. Having sex and being boyfriends doesn't cut it. There must be a deeper connection that is filled with shared experiences, empathy, and trust. We've seen them meet, share an attraction, and kiss. (off screen, we know they've slept together.) The times that he should have been there for support, he wasn't. (He left the bachelor party- not his fault. There was Madney's wedding- also not his fault, but he still wasn't there.) The few times he could make the claim that Tommy was there are overshadowed by the fact that Buck was the one shutting him out. Some examples: when they were waiting for news about Denny's surgery, when Buck would only accept Eddie's word about the boils, when Tommy showed up late after Buck dislocated his shoulder, etc. I'm sure there is room for debate, and I'm not trying to hate on Tommy. I'm just saying, these are situations that could have built something solid or proved Lou's statement, but they don't.

There has been only one time that I can recall where Lou could honestly claim Tommy showed up for Buck, and that is when he flew in with the helicopter to save the 118. However, even then, he canonically told Buck he did it for Chim first, which detracts from how pivotal the moment could have been.

Who has receipts? Buddie. There are so many; I can't name them all. A few of my favorites.

"I trust no one with my son more than you."

Two friends, sitting in silence and offering comfort without saying a single word. (Again, the word "soulmate" is not tied to sex. Also, friendship is a solid foundation for love. So the word 'friends' fits for that moment between Buck and Eddie.)

This is a show where anything can happen, but there is no indication whatsoever that this is a direction the show is going in.

[azaharinflames]

If we don't get something for BuckTommy in the finale than I feel it would be healthier for me to just put down the show.

I don't know if I'll be able to do it but I do think maybe it's better for me to just leave the show to the Buddies. They have their army, their journos are their generals, and they will never stop, never relent, even if the show never gives them what they want.

With all my heart I believe the very best they will ever get is some one-sided confession from Buck at the very last episode of the series. Maybe on his deathbed. But those are wilfully blind will not see.

And the show will probably never shut them down properly. It got close in the last few episodes, and maybe it can still pull the trigger in the finale and send them spiralling off into the void. Here's hoping. But if they don't, then I don't see how this to and fro can continue for me.

I can't watch with their fandom as a bugbear on my back. I want to talk and read about the show but there is literally no space where they aren't being generally awful.

They really are close to breaking down the last of my resistance. I want to stay out of obstinance, because I know that it's exactly their goal to destroy people's hope, but it's just so hard.

Really need Tommy to be in the finale in a real way or else the relationship dropped. I can hold on to hope if there's something tangible to hold on to. I can throw away all hope and just hang around as an unrepentant hater of the show, or leave entirely. But this liminal space where the show can't make up it's mind is torturous.

They either need to give me something or tell me to fuck off so I can actually have an emotional reaction.

Sorry that this ended up being a stream of consciousness.

don’t worry, nonnie, it made sense. and i have to agree and share the sentiment. and i’m happy you can vent here <3

I don’t necessarily share the part of buddie with you. mostly because i refuse to think about them or give them that power, tbh. though i will agree that they are not getting buddie canon, and atp, and especially after last episode, that’s painfully obvious.

so. does it matter if the ‘journos’ are on their side? if bts sometimes posts them? if they’re sent together to do promo (which i will argue it’s not a ‘gift’ to them but them doing promo)? the show is clearly telling them something, as much as we can argue that they still give them small things. if you watch the show it’s rather obvious how they feel about them. therefore leaving to me is not giving them a victory. it’s knowing that it wouldn’t even be a battle to be had, because we exist in two different realms.

that being said. i am waiting on 818 to fully determine what i do with this show.

and to be quite honest, this is not entirely about bucktommy. partly, it is, because i would hate to feel like i’ve been dragged along for this long without a proper reason to - because to bring back tommy after 806 and keep him around for the whole season when there was no reason for it, if they just want him to suddenly disappear is cruel. and it would definitely put me off the show, if anything just because i wouldn’t want my time to be wasted like that.

but it is more than that to me. it would be wasted time, but also it would be watching a show that is hit after hit to my favorite character, with no pay-off or any type of joy. it would be rewarding the behaviors around buck, even, and showing that the way they treated him was right. and i’m simply not okay with that, and i wouldn’t be okay with watching the show if that happened.

ultimately, it would be me being tired of seeing a show that goes nowhere, because that’s how it would feel. and knowing when to stop if it doesn’t bring me joy anymore.

not to say 818 will be bad. i don’t think it will be. but just. in a hypothetical case, i agree.

[bleue-flora]

Idk of this is something you have already talked about

But what would u think a c!sapnap and c!dream confrontation would go?

If we are talking an alternative to the finale, I talked about that here [<>] [<>]… as far as like just another confrontation between the end and Sapnap getting the Death Book, it’s really hard to say to be honest. Because I like to try my best to be as canon accurate in my fics as I can, for Musical Chairs: Ch 7, I’ve thought about it a lot. And the thing is despite people’s often more wholesome portrayals of Sapnap, I don’t think that’s really accurate. The conversation after jailbreak [post] where it doesn’t matter what Dream says he can’t seem to get through, I think is very telling. I mean you can just hear the hope bleed out of Dream’s voice, replaced with theatric villainy. To hear your “brother” had been tortured the next thing to leave your lips is ‘who’ and ‘why’ and ‘what.’

Dream: “He was trying to get the revival book and so he was torturing me." SAPNAP: “The revival book?…What revival book?” DREAM: “It’s a long story.” SAPNAP: “Do you have it on you now?”

So, if you read my chapter you’ll get a pretty good idea of what I kinda expect that confrontation to go. I think apathy and bitterness. I think Sapnap would show up and they would fight and it wouldn’t matter how Dream limped, or the scars on his skin, or Dream’s hands shaking, or anything Dream said. I think they would fight and if Sapnap won he’d kill Dream and then he’d be dead too as per the deal he made with DreamXD. Or Dream wins and he knows he should kill Sapnap, get rid of the threat looming over his head, but he just can’t bring it in himself to do it. So he lets Sapnap go and Sapnap remains absolutely confused. In an almost similar manner of Jean Valjean and Inspector Javert from Les Misérables, when Jean lets him go and Javert struggles to understand it. He was so set on this idea that people cannot change and yet, here is the proof before him. So he had done horrible things in his life all in the name of justice, but turns out he was wrong and he couldn’t live with that… it’s not a perfect comparison but it does have similar themes and such.

Anyways, despite the Dream Team being canonical, I think it’s important to remember that Sapnap has betrayed Dream quite a lot even back in the beginning so needless to say I don’t think it’d be a very friendly confrontation in the slightest. I honestly wonder if he’d even regret killing Dream, maybe if George knocked some sense into him… I don’t know. But I mean we do also get some dubiously canon fight in the stream with Dream defending Aimsley [vid] that I wrote a fic about, so there’s something at least…

Honestly, I think perhaps like Tommy, there would have to have been supernatural powers involved for any reconciliation or understanding to happen. The fact of the matter is that cc!Sapnap and c!Sapnap are just very different in their relationship with Dream, in the same way as Awesamdude, so while the fandom wants to say Sapnap cares and they could make up and all this, I’m just not sure that’s reflected in the lore we get. I had hoped that was true but then jailbreak happened and the Death Book and it squashed my hope as it did Dream’s…

I just don’t think someone who visits a prison obviously inhumane to other characters like Techno and Ponk, and leaves it going - Dream you’re never going to leave and you better not break out. Someone who’s take away after seeing their friend refusing to speak and throwing their clocks (only entertainment) into lava is that Dream is “even more fucked up” because of prison [post] and therefore shouldn’t leave. Someone who stays silent as their best friend is about to lose their last canon life [clip]. Someone who hears their friend was tortured and doesn’t bat an eye but doubles down on a mission to kill him for escaping said torture, doesn’t seem like someone capable of reconciling with Dream or making amends or reaching understanding unless there’s some kind of divine intervention.

Like Sapnap says he cares and that he believes the prison will make Dream better, but at the same time he was willing to let him die. The only reason Dream is still alive is because of a book. They did not think he could get better that’s why they were willing to let him die (or perhaps you could make the argument that they were too afraid of him to let him live, but does that really make it better…) and they can all have this moral high ground of the prison being for Dream’s own good but it’s bullshit. If Sapnap truly cared he would’ve visited more than once especially after seeing his friend in such a “fucked up” state. I mean how else is he supposed to know he got better.

Let’s not act like Sapnap is some moral figure of the dsmp, who is against Dream on behalf of the rest of the server, because Sapnap is happy to fight in wars and pillage and murder. No, Sapnap’s own reasoning for thinking he’s evil and deserving of prison is because Berkerson (which Dream had in his possession anyways) was placed in an item frame on the wall [clip]. Which is a poor excuse anyways because Sapnap fought against him in Doomsday before that, just like he did in the disc saga back in the day. Make no mistake, Sapnap is the one who first betrayed Dream [post] and how fast he turn on his “brother.” How fragile his loyalty was to turn his back again and again and then act as if Dream betrayed him and he is the one in the right.

I think the fandom needs to face the reality that c!Sapnap unlike cc!Sapnap is not Dream’s loyal friend, and he does not care about Dream being tortured nor dying or at least his delusion is clouding his care which doesn’t make it better. And I’m not saying he’d torture Dream or something, I think he does care in some capacity but I also think he’s stuck in the mourning of the Dream he lost that he can’t help or face the Dream of the present. He can’t face the reality that Dream has changed both for the better and the worst because he just misses the old Dream. (Which is tragic when you think about it… because isn’t that what Dream wanted too…)

And I know people are going to disagree with me here because we love the Dream Team just like we love pathetic submissive tortured Dream [post], but just because those are fun to write and think about, doesn’t necessarily make them canon. I think sometimes we get clouded by their real world friendship and their relationship in the past, which isn’t present post prison. It hasn’t been present for a long time. I mean Sapnap finds a book of death and immediately tries to kill Dream with it, even before he made the deal for it to kill him too. And even after learning about Dream being in the prison he doesn’t seem that concerned which like, even Tommy and Tubbo were disturbed by that fact…

Anyways, honestly it’s hard for me to say, cuz his logic just doesn’t make sense to me…

[chasedbyatlantic]

finally alone, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — you and joel miller are nothing but flirty towards each other, no matter the situation. when the two of you decide to take an unauthorized visit outside of jackson, it really shows.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, fluff, implied-ish relationship, friends to lovers type beat, mentions of cheating/death/hooking up, reader is a bit of a player, stripping, swearing. lmk if i missed anything else!

wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: guys comment what u want me to write abt cuz im running out of ideas haha :,). remember to like, comment, reblog and follow for more! xoxo

—

It was a torrential downpour right now, the sun had disappeared hours ago and there was nowhere to wait it out. It was nice and sunny this morning when the two of you had left the walls, passing by the sleepy guards with no issues whatsoever. Tommy had given everyone working the walls instructions to not let you or his brother go through without clearing with Tommy first, but some rules are meant to be broken, right?

Not that you had a bad reputation, but not too many of the conservative mothers and elderly were fond of you. It had to have been because of your loud mouth, you had convinced yourself. But the weeks following yours and Joel's arrival, you were sure it was more than just your loud mouth. You were always on edge, and ready to fight people for what you needed- for Christ sake, you lived outside of the walls for ten years, you couldn't have been any different. It probably also didn't help that you hooked up with a married man or two, but that's besides the point.

You and Joel were partners, not literally, but the two of you had been teamed up for a while. You met at the Boston QZ when Marlene, the leader of the Fireflies, had tasked the both of you to move 'precious cargo'. You grew close to Joel, and eventually Ellie. After arriving at Jackson, Ellie had separated herself a bit from Joel and you, but you two remained tied at the hip, despite what everyone thought about it.

People had suspected and assumed what was happening between you and Joel, that you two were a couple and you were cheating on him with married men. First of all, the two of you weren't together, and second of all, those men wanted to fuck you, not the other way around. You and Joel had only laughed off the allegations, not really giving a shit about what anyone else thought about the two of you.

The two of you were completely drenched, right through your clothes, when you arrived at the place you had planned to visit, a Walgreens. Well, an outdated Walgreens. You could tell the place was still stocked with food after twenty years, there were just a few runners the two of you had to get rid of. You two were at the back of the Walgreens, the employee entrance. "Do we have to go in?" You asked, "I wanna stay out and dance in the rain!" You had to have your voice raised a bit, the water muting many of the room tone-like sounds.

He checked the clip in his pistol, before shoving it back in. "Y'ur actin' like we ain't gonna have all the time in the world to dance in there, plum." You hated that, plum. First of all, he knew you absolutely hated the name, second of all, plums were your least favourite fruit. "I'll feed you to those runners if y'ain't careful." You threatened him.

Joel shook his head, knowing you wouldn't do anything. It was funny, really, you saying you would hurt him. He found it cute if anything. "Ya' know what to do in there, you get one'n I'll get the others." You nodded your head as Joel silently opened the door. The three runners in there turned their head and screamed, immediately running to the two of you. They spared you some time, though, from tripping over everything in the way.

Joel went first, shooting at the one that had flew over for him. It went down without a fight, and you had leaped over its body in a careful matter. You were better in hand-to-hand combat, so you had your machete swinging to cut half a head off of the runner. When the runner you had killed fell to the floor, another gunshot and body drop was heard from where Joel was. You turned to see all three down, Joel almost grinning. "Too easy, eh?"

You shook your head, your eyes rolling. "Alright pretty boy," You said, "Help me drag 'em outside." He holstered his weapon, sliding a sly 'yes ma'am' to you before helping, knowing that would drive you crazy. It did, though you chose to ignore it. The two of you were very flirty with each other, it was a second nature in all honesty. Though, you didn't mind it, Joel was anything but ugly.

He helped you bring the former-runners outside, it only took a couple minutes - you two didn't want to go back outside, but you had to do what needed to get done. Once the two of you were finished, Joel had locked the door, which meant the two of you were stuck in here for a while. "Did the list get destroyed?" You questioned him, as he searched through his bag. Joel, not long after, took out a small piece of paper with a grin on his face. "All good."

Not too long after, you were down one aisle, Joel the one beside. You decided to sort of split up, and efficiently scavenge for what you needed to get. You two wanted to keep this place on the downlow, in case things ever went south in Jackson and you needed a place to take Ellie to. It was perfect, really, despite the few runners that were here previously. Food, water, medicine, shelter, everything you needed when the world was in this state.

The two of you were in comfortable silence, until you broke it. "Joel?" You had called out, a small 'hm?' being returned from him not long after. "What type of, uh- lotion did she want? There's forty different kinds." Your eyes scanned the shelf, reading every different label. Ellie had promised you that she wouldn't tell anyone about yours or Joel's whereabouts if you picked her up this certain type of lotion, one to help her bite be less itchy, or something.

"Uh," He began, "Nivea? 'M not sure." Your eyes scanned the shelf once more, before picking up the bottle and sliding it in your bag. It almost slipped out of your hands, you were still completely drenched from the shitty weather outside. Just as you were about to leave that aisle, and join Joel at his, something caught your eye. This is perfect, you thought to yourself, you needed a good laugh and this would crack you up.

You reached for the wrapped box, "Joel?" You had called out once more. You heard shifting around from the other side, "What is it?" He replied. You threw the box over to his side, putting your hand over your mouth as you tried to muffle your laughs. The thud of the box hitting the floor was the only other sound, other than you laughing of course.

"Really?" Was heard from the other side, "Condoms? Real fuckin' mature o'you." This sent you through the roof, honestly. Maybe it was the lack of sleep you had been getting for the last few weeks, or that this was genuinely ridiculous, but you just bursted out with laughter. Let the whole world hear you, you thought to yourself, who cares.

"I'm sorry!" You had exclaimed in between laughs, "It was too fuckin' funny not to!" You slipped past into Joel's aisle, looking for him. He wasn't there. Your laughs calmed down, "Joel?" You drug out the last part of his name, curiously stepping forward. As soon as you did that, you felt arms wrap around you and pick you up. Not arms of a clicker, no, but arms that felt too familiar to your waist.

Joel spun you around, his chin resting in the crook of your neck from behind. The roles were reversed, he was now the one with the laughing fit and you were the unamused one. You had let a few 'let me go!'s escape your lips, trying your best to stay upset, though it didn't work for long. Joel set you down after a few more spins, trying his best not to fall over from the dizziness.

Things between the two of you were complicated, you hooked up all the time but were nothing official. It felt weird, making things official during a time like this. Nobody wanted to care for someone too much, since they didn't know what tomorrow would bring. It was a mutual feeling, you were sure of it, you just didn't know what to do about it.

"I hated that." You flatly-as-possible said that to him, as you turned and faced him. He met your gaze, you could stare into his eyes all day. "That's what you get." He had simply replied to you with, this earned a confused look and a raised eyebrow from you, "Excuse me?" Joel could only hold his smile back, "They were too small, should've at least thrown over the right size."

For fuck sakes, Joel Miller. You slapped him on the shoulder after he broke the shared gaze and walked off, yelling a 'Christ, Joel!' as you chased after him. He drove you crazy, and he knew that. Not a bad crazy, not anything close to that. Whatever crazy it may be, it was mutual.

With another hour of scavenging under the two of yours' belts, you both grew tired. You were still wet from outside, your hair had started to dry, though. Both Joel and you had found an upstairs to the grocery store, it looked to be an employee break room or something like that. You had brought up a few blankets, candles and matches, and a change of clothes. You had set up the candles around your room, not as a romantic gesture, but as a light source. Obviously the power wasn't working, and the two of you needed to see what you were doing.

Joel had set up the blankets by the time the last candle was lit, a proud look to his face. You took notice, as you shrugged off your bag and bent down to untie your boots. "You're a great blanket-layer, Mister Miller." He tsked when you had said that, "No need to remind me." He took notice of you starting to unzip your pants, and push them down. He rose his brow, waiting for you to explain what you were doing.

You took notice of this after you had removed your pants, and stood back up to get your shirt, "What? I'm soaked." Joel had completely forgot about that, in all honesty. His clothes were soaked through as well, no doubt in that, he was just too caught up in the moment with you that he had pushed it to the side. He had removed his shirt as you took yours off, if someone else was to see this, they would definitely think something else was happening.

You two had stripped down to just your undergarments and towel-dried yourselves off. God bless Walgreens for carrying everything, you had thought to yourself. In no time, the two of you were dressed back up in comfortable clothes for the time being, making an unspoken decision that you guys would spend the night.

You were the first one to lay down on top of the blankets Joel had set up, Joel was looking through his bag for something. "Can we just stay here forever, you'n me?" You asked, eyes closed and sprawled out. He could only chuckle in response, "What 'bout Ellie?" Shit, you had forgotten about her. You were too caught up being with just Joel that you had forgot Ellie was at home, probably wondering where the fuck the two of you were. "Pass me the walkie," You asked, "Let me call her."

That was what you did, you went onto the right channel and began talking into the walkie talkie. It took a minute or two until you actually got a response from Ellie. She had made sure you two were fine, and not 'absolutely fucking deceased' (her words, not yours). With much reassurance and whatnot, you soon bid your farewells to her, and had promised you would be back the following day. Ellie had also made the comment saying not to 'come back knocked up', sounding like your mother. This earned Joel to yell at her from the background, but only made you laugh. You loved that kid, like your own.

You placed the walkie down, moving to one side of the not-so-bed bed. "Joel," You groaned, "Hurry up, I'm freezing." You complained. You were in wet clothes for hours, you were bound to be frostbitten at this point. Joel was your heat source for tonight, though he didn't mind, not one bit. With you basically cuddled up to him the entire night, it brought ease to him sleeping.

He shortly lay down beside you, stretching his arm out which had only caused you to lay on his chest. He was chewing something, it smelled too familiar. "What're you eating?" You had hummed, a yawn following your question. "Dried plum." He only replied, doing everything in his power to suppress his grin.

You shook your head, well, as much as you could with your head laying on Joel's chest. "Where the fuck did you even get dried out plums? That's the stupidest thing ever." Joel didn't think it was, plums were his favourite fruit- he wouldn't say anything about that, though, not yet. If you didn't want to eat any plums, he would help you out. This was another case of the olive theory. "One of Maria's friends does 'em, seriously, you should try 'em."

You bickered with him about it for a moment, dropping it the next. Joel loved when you bickered with him, it made you two sound like an old, married couple- though you weren't, not yet. He loved how you would rant on about your hate for plums, or what you had done during the day throughout Jackson. He was just happy to be finally alone with you, not being able to handle anymore time spent not by your side.

—

finally alone, mac demarco

[xtarmanderx]

I don’t ever post things like this here because this is primarily my writing side blog, but it feels too important not to say something.

I started writing 9-1-1 fics for the Buddie fandom and for a friend who was near and dear to me. I quickly left the fandom because of the mods for an event that I was participating in and how awful they were to one of my best friends that joined the event with me. That completely killed my desire to interact with the Buddie fandom at all and I don’t know if I will ever finish posting the fic that I poured my heart into for said event. Because that fic is fully done, but those encounters with those fans made me never want to write Buddie again.

And then Tommy Kinard came along.

And holy fuck, I fell in love with him so fast. I immediately rewatched the show after he reappeared in season 7 because I was so fascinated with his character. And then I fell in love with Lou Ferrigno Jr. and began watching S.W.A.T. just to get glimpses of him and I grew to love that show and its characters, too. And I read his interviews and saw how happy he was to be back on the show and it made me happy, too.

Then I saw all the hate and negativity.

It filled me with so much anger and I blocked so many people across so many different forms of social media so I no longer had to see it. All I wanted was to surround myself with positivity.

Because I’ve been that bitch.

There are people no longer in certain fandoms because of me and I’ll never be able to apologize enough for the ways that I hurt them. Sorry will never be enough to mend those bridges that I poured kerosene on.

It’s why I’ve stayed in my corner and all of my fic comments have been generic, which isn’t who I used to be. I used to engage and leave long comments, but honestly I’ve been terrified to try and join any new community. Because I am fucking terrified of reverting back to the person I never want to be again.

My best friend started watching the show again after I went to his house for dinner and had him watch the BuckTommy kiss episode with me. The last five minutes of that episode, I told him to put his phone down and pay full attention and he was completely engaged and was so happy to see another queer couple onscreen. It gave us something else to bond over every week as we would watch and text about what was happening.

Tonight’s text:

This coming from a gay man who does not engage in fandom spaces at all and who felt blindsided, too. Like so many of us did.

I immediately started writing a fix it fic because that’s who I am. I want to write the endings I want to see. And then I stopped writing and sent Lou a message directly because I needed to get something off my chest.

I was raised in a broken home. Raised by racists who belittled me endlessly and have told me within the last couple of years that I am their least favorite child. I am the youngest of 6. That shit was heartbreaking. It’s a wound that will never heal. But why am I bringing it up? Why does that matter?

Because I saw myself in Tommy. I saw a character who represented the worst parts of my youth, who spouted hateful things my parents taught me to say and then spent years having to unlearn those things. Lou talked about his own ideas about Tommy’s past and it struck so close to home for me. Because Tommy showed he was capable of change. And I did, too. It took therapy and years of reflection and being hyperaware now of the shit I say and having to constantly stay on top of my own thoughts and correct them.

I have been dating a woman of color for the last 9.5 years and she’s the love of my life. She has been there through every stumble and stayed even when my passive aggressive inclinations got the better of me. And I saw so much of myself reflected in Tommy Kinard’s character and Lou’s portrayal of him and saw our relationship in Buck and Tommy, too.

Tonight hit me so much harder than expected. And this probably seems like a jumbled mess of thoughts, which it is, but I needed to get some things off my chest and out into the world.

This is not the week that so many of us were expecting. This hurt. We’re allowed to be upset and need time to process. I sure as hell do.

But I do want to say a heartfelt thank you to anyone who has brought joy and friendship to this fandom. The fics that have been written are amazing and the art has been fantastic. I’ve seen some people make lifelong friends in the past few months thanks to this. It sure as hell strengthened some of mine.

So, if you need a friend right now, know that I’m here. I’ve been subdued for a while, but I refuse to lose out on more joy in my life. Not when we all desperately need it. So I’m here for you.

And please remember to be kind. Don’t let anyone take that superpower away from you.