#joel miler tlou

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?” 

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him. 

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown. 

Fuck. 

You wanted the day to be over. 

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right? 

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation. 

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart. 

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak. 

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return. 

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do. 

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness. 

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked. 

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye. 

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out. 

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault. 

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day. 

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school. 

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee. 

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows. 

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied. 

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. 

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow. 

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now. 

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words. 

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly. 

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?” 

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected. 

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished. 

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee. 

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly. 

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.” 

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft. 

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly. 

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine. 

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash. 

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you. 

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes. 

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away. 

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed. 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body. 

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar. 

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs. 

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.” 

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled. 

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine. 

“Joel,” you whined. 

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours. 

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat. 

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear. 

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear. 

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved. 

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.” 

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing. 

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless. 

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing. 

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair. 

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek. 

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you. 

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly. 

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him. 

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand. 

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together. 

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered. 

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you. 

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch. 

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased. 

“I just don’t like them!” You defended. 

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms. 

“Your turn,” you sighed. 

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned. 

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face. 

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.” 

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected. 

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften. 

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest. 

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you. 

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered. 

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you. 

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks. 

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed. 

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled. 

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier. 

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence. 

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room. 

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously. 

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it. 

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it. 

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand. 

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head. 

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver. 

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking. 

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

[scootkiddo]

it shouldn’t be glossed over just how empathetic Joel is. he expressed empathy towards Ellie given her dire case of being a child within the confines of a cruel, unforgiving-apocalyptic world that supplants what should have been a habitual childhood for her. he offered an apology for scolding Henry and calling him a rat without initially reconciling the benign intentions behind his actions. he pleaded for the elderly sniper on the outskirts of kansas city to put down the rifle so he didn’t have to kill him. it all accentuates just how against his nature he must be to survive in this world. he can’t always spare people, he can’t always shed sympathy. but he wishes he could, and even on occasion tries. it’s the very context he once stooped to the level of the hunters in his past that makes this point pang all the more. he isn’t apathetic. he isn’t exclusively selfish. he isn’t rigid. he is open-ended. Joel is more than a hammer that sees all problems as a nail to be forcefully struck without finesse. He values compassion and preserving life, and any ultimatum that cements the opposite only elicits a last resort of violence and numbness. the silver lining is more desirable than conforming to cruelty

[myownwholewildworld]

back to main masterlist

UNIFORMED!JOEL ONESHOTS — SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: AU!joel miller x f!reader.

summary: a series of one shots where we get to see the one and only joel miller and all his faces... as long as he's wearing a uniform, ofc. i'm open to any requests you may have, no matter how wild! you can send in an ask or drop them down below c: check #uniformed!joel to see what's already been suggested. come along, don't be shy!

status: ongoing.

taglist: open.

word count: ~12.3k (so far).

series warnings: 18+, mdni. mainly smut, pwp. there may be some dubcon content. please heed the warnings for each oneshot.

oneshots:

1. police officer!joel: part i (💢💘) ; part ii (💢💘) 2. firefighter!joel. 3. army officer!joel. 4. ranger!joel. 5. paramedic!joel. 6. pilot!joel. 7. mechanic!joel: oneshot (💘) 8. walmart employee!joel. 9. nurse!joel. 10. barista!joel. 11. hardwarestore!joel. and literally any uniformed!joel i/we can think of.

[sinsofsummers]

undone

2.2k | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel miller worships the day you showed up braless to his fourth of july party. warnings: smut (of course), 18+, mdni. no outbreak au, fourth of july party (forgive him he's from texas), joel's pov, he's a dumb bitch, masturbation (m), pervy!joel but not really, age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel in his early 40s), slight religious slander (not extreme by any means!). note: this is just me dipping my toes into the dbf!joel universe, lemme know what you think! zero editing basically, i'm so sorry, there will probably be more drabbles for this. also this is consolation for the dumb shit holiday that is independence day in the us. i hate it here.

He's anything but religious; he hasn't gone to church since he was a kid. And yet...Joel Miller worships the day you went braless to his Fourth of July party.

Even now, laid in his bed with his arm thrown carelessly across his face and his fist curled tightly around his cock, he's not sure he'll ever recover.

Muffled grunts fall from his lips with every strained tug, and he's sure it sounds something like prayer. Considering the fact that you're as close to heaven as he'll ever get, he'll call it a fair assessment. If it's sacrilege to jerk off to the thought of his best friend's daughter every night...so be it.

He's never been one with any type of remarkable memory, but he knows that the image of your perfect chest peeking at him through the thin thank you'd worn that day would stick with him forever.

You'd blinked up at him with a grin, a bowl of fresh fruit salad prepared to share with the rest of the guests in your hands. A strand of hair had fallen into your eyes and he'd had to fight against every urge and keep his hand down at his side.

What he really wanted to do was brush your hair from your eyes (ever the gentleman), and then replace the spot where his fingers would touch your forehead with his lips. He'd always wondered what your hair might smell like, what shampoo you used in the morning, and how your skin looked when the suds ran down your body, rinsed down the drain.

What he wouldn't give to be the suds running down your radiant skin, to touch every curve and crevice of your body, the spots that never see the light of day.

He hadn't seen you since you'd gone to college. Well, not for more than a few days over your Christmas break each year, and even then...he'd made sure to steer clear of you. Tried to ignore the way your smile made his own stutter, how your arms were always so soft around his neck when you gave him the occasional hug.

How your eyes had begun to linger, just enough to make his jaw clench and his cock twitch.

A strangled sigh fights its way out of his chest as he remembers the events of that fateful party, and just how he's ended up here, cock in hand, your scent in his head, and your name on his tongue.

—

"Jesus Christ," he murmured when you and your dad showed up with your dishes to pass. The backyard had been strewn with red, white, and blue decorations, the perfect image of a typical Texan backyard celebration for Independence Day.

He'd been unable to hide his groan at the way the bright colors practically bled into his skull, but there was no other way to have a Fourth of July party, apparently. Of course, this was really just for tradition, and...well, his younger brother Tommy would have had his head if there weren't at least a few American flag streamers.

Your little white tank had already begun to cling to your skin in the Texas heat, the straps thin. Before he knew it, he was hoping that the sun would do him a favor and kiss your skin where he wished he could. That it might form those pretty little lines along your shoulders and give a warm glow to your face, evidence of your presence at his house, at his party, drinking his beer.

"Drunk already?" your dad's voice roused him from his momentary lapse in judgment and then Joel was getting tugged into a firm handshake and a clapped hand on his shoulder.

He tore his eyes from you and hoped that the pink in his cheeks (that was definitely there) could be mistaken for a quickly setting sunburn. He didn't want to think of what you might take his blush for if you noticed.

He chuckled, shaking his head and returning the handshake. “Hell no,” he answered hastily, “just gettin’ hungry for that fruit salad, man.” And the angel holding it. “Need a hand?” he asked you, forcing his eyes not to wander from yours.

Fuck. Your eyes were extra bright today, with the sun seemingly lighting them from the insides. And those cheeks? Already pink and sunkissed, just how he’d hoped they would be. He might have offered you some sunblock if he’d thought it was appropriate. Might have offered to help you spread it onto your smooth skin if he’d thought that was appropriate.

Of course, he’d be condemned to the darkest circle of hell if he let those thoughts run wild. So he trained his eyes on yours and waited for your response.

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ear. You squinted into the sun, an action that forced one eye closed, as if you were winking at him. “I’ve got it,” you said casually, “can I put it inside for now?” You adjusted your hold on the fruit salad, making your breasts shift under your shirt.

Joel nodded—fuck’s sake, he thought with the movement of your chest—and tilted his head toward the back door that led to the kitchen. “Go for it, Sarah’s already in there.”

Your dad had been called away by Tommy, so Joel was left in your quiet company. He watched your smile widen at the mention of his daughter’s name and felt his heart twinge. You were just a few years older than his daughter, and here he was, not only willing his cock to settle down at the sight of your nipples pressing against the cloth of your shirt, but also wishing that your smile widened at the mention of his name. 

Joel wasn’t quite sure what happened in the subsequent minute or how he moved so quickly. Before he knew it, you’d stepped closer to him and he’d stepped to the side, except he was really just getting in your way, and your eyes were widening in surprise, and then the bowl of fruit salad was shuffling in your grip and he was stumbling to get back out of your way and then—

“Shit,” you mumbled a curse. The juice from the contents of the bowl—mostly watermelon juice, it looked like—had splashed up onto your shirt, seeping through the white fabric and painting your chest a pale pink. You looked up, a careless smile replacing the distracted look on your face. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. M, really. I was gonna have to wash this shirt tonight anyway.”

“I—uh, I didn’t mean to,” was all he could come up with, and he could feel his face heating once more at the look on your face. “Shirt’s ruined. I’m sorry darlin’,” he mumbled—was the temperature increasing by the second?—and pretended not to notice the way your shirt clung even tighter to your chest. It was like a damn wet t-shirt contest, the way the darker shade of your nipples began to peek through the soiled fabric at him. He blinked and looked away, trying to ignore the way your smile had turned into a smirk. Have you caught him? 

You shrugged and passed the bowl to him. “No, it’s not,” you reassured him with a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure Sarah’s got a shirt or two I can wear.”

He’d been left standing with the bowl of your fruit salad as you’d trekked into the house, presumably to do as you’d said. When you came out just a few minutes later, he’d been talking to your dad and a few of the other neighbors that had come over. He’d almost completely forgotten about the incident, until you were there again, standing in front of him. 

In his shirt.

“Uh,” he said dumbly, not sure whether you knew whose shirt you were wearing, or if you’d gone into the wrong laundry pile.

You picked at the hem of the shirt, and he traced the lines of your long fingers with his eyes, practically seeing your sweet scent sink into the fabric. He hoped you could smell his cologne lingering on the collar as it licked against the soft skin of your neck. “Sarah found this in her closet,” you explained, “she said it was one of her sleep shirts.” You flitted your gaze to him, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in the depths of your eyes. “Smells kind of…”

Like me. He shivered despite the heat and tapped his finger on his hip to calm himself down. It smells like me, and now you’re gonna smell like me, angel.

“Like men’s cologne,” you finished with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure Sarah’s not bringing home any guys you don’t know about, Mr. Miller?”

He cocked an eyebrow and bit back a cutting remark. “‘Course not,” he said smoothly, “they’d never get past the front door.”

It was all he could do not to tug you onto his lap with his shirt hanging past your hips, giving the illusion that you weren’t wearing any shorts beneath it. Fuck, he had to get away from your father before he did anything he regretted. “Need another drink, anyone?” he offered, shifting his weight away from you in a failed attempt to get the thoughts out of his mind.

The others shook their heads, but you nodded. “I’ll get another, actually,” you said simply. And then he was stuck with you, his fingers itching to lift that shirt from your body and reveal that warm skin to his desperate mind.

The kitchen was empty—a small blessing—and Joel fished through the fridge for another beer. Handing one to you, he cherished the way your fingers brushed his as you pulled it from his grasp, the droplets of condensation running down the bottle like he knew the sweat was running down his back at the thoughts that swam through his mind.

“S’my shirt, you know,” he grumbled softly, not quite sure why he’d said it. Maybe it was to gauge what your reaction would be. Maybe he already hoped that you’d smile at the thought.

You looked down at the shirt, cheeks reddening. “It is?” you said quietly, the surprise unraveling in your voice. “I’m sorry, I can get another one—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, s’okay. Looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.”

“Oh.” Just one word, but he noticed the way your legs wobbled at the same time. The way the bottle slipped just a centimeter in your hand.

Gotcha, he smirked inwardly. 

—

Days have gone by, and he still thinks about that blush in your cheeks every night. He can’t help it when you just look so angelic in the shirt of a sinner like him. 

Joel’s hand squeezes his cock for all its worth as he strokes himself languidly, faint mumbles beginning to fall from his lips like the verses of a damn hymn. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he groans in the darkness of his room, feeling the pressure build in his body. With every muscle in his chest tensing, he lets a broken sigh escape his throat as he spills his hot seed into his hand, the picture of your face embedded in his mind’s eye. Laying there for a moment, he catches his breath as oxygen raggedly pushes itself in and out of his lungs.

And then he hears it. A knock. The front door, it sounds like.

He hastily cleans himself up, but the faint feeling of stickiness remains on his hand as he traipses down the stairs in the dark, wondering just who the hell would be knocking on his door so late at night. 

When he opens the door, he’s not exactly expecting to see the face he’d just come on his hand to. 

“Hey,” he chokes out, hiding his hand behind his back as if you might be able to see the evidence of sacrilege on his skin. He’s afraid you’ll be able to decipher the sweat on his forehead for the sinful act that it had come from just moments ago. “What’s up?”

“Oh!” you sound surprised at his answering the door, a fact that makes him smirk. “I’m just…I’m just here to return Sarah’s shirt,” you explain hastily. 

There it is, hanging from your loose grip, waiting for him to take it. “You mean mine,” he corrects gently, his grin widening as he feeds his hand up the frame of the door, hovering over you close enough that he can see your pupils widen and pulse at the proximity of his chest to yours.

Your mouth hangs open, just enough that he thinks about pushing his thumb in between your lips, up to the first knuckle. His mind goes wild at the thought of how warm and soft and wet your mouth would be around his fingers. How perfect it would be around even more.

He shoves the thoughts away as you nod. “Yeah,” you say with a breathless chuckle. “Yours, I mean. I don’t need it anymore, though. So…” your eyes drop to the shirt between you, your words trailing off.

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t need it back,” he says warmly. “Not yet, anyway. Keep it.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, the thought of you wearing it more than once lighting his mind on fire. “Keep it for now. I’ll come to collect it some other time. No reason to return it in the dead of night, doll.”

Fuck. The nickname had slipped. 

But based on the way your lips curl at the corners, he’s dodged a bullet. “Okay,” you say softly, and he swears he can see the moon reflected in your eyes. “Just for a little longer, then.”

He nods and says goodnight, closing the door only when he can see that you’ve made it back to your house next door safely. The door shuts with a soft click, and he grins to himself. 

To hell with the shirt. Doesn’t matter to him. He’ll get it back eventually. And when he does, he plans to have it smell like you.

this ending was so rushed ahhhh i have to go to work!!! bye!!!! ty for reading and all the love!!!!

tagging here cause i have to goooo to workkkkk!!!

@mingiast @iluvurfather @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @morning-star-joy @sofiparallel @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @marchai @mlodanatka @xdaddysprincessxx @bongsrconfusing @tlouadditc @dinsdjrn @alejaa-a @daysilva2 @worhols @jellybeanxc @struig @cherryreddarbiter

[thatssofarahh]

papa joel miller <3

[something-tofightfor]

Happy 43rd birthday, Joel Miller.

[alwaysmicado]

No broken hearts

8.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 6

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, public sex, fingering, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, Joel being a menace, pet names, degradation/praise, pregnancy (not reader), heavy drinking, reader hurts her hand, blood, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: After Joel fucks you against a gas station wall, you run into an old friend. A bottle of wine and a smashed mirror later, you make a late-night call from your bathroom floor. A/N: I'm so excited about this part!! There's so much going on in this one: kinky sex, wine, reader confronting her past, Tommy, and some good old angst (I had to, okay?). Not to worry though, reader laughs through the tears...kind of. Enjoy and let me know me what you think! 🖤

more public sex ・Laura ・last part・ masterlist ・ AO3

It’s Saturday, the heat’s cranked up to ‘inferno’ and you’re so prepared to just kick back and have a relaxed, blissfully lazy night in.

Your day so far has unfolded in a symphony of self-indulgence: finally tackling that book that’s been giving you the side-eye for a year, getting green with some new kitchen herbs, and breaking a sweat with yoga in front of the TV. Your soul feels rejuvenated already. 

The only thing missing now is the perfect dinner to munch on while you sink into your sofa, get comfy, and dive into a Netflix marathon. You already have all the ingredients for your favorite pasta dish at home, you just need to get the essential partners in crime: a nice red—or three—and some snacks. Lucky for you, there’s a gas station a few minutes down the block from your place and the weather’s all sunny.

So, you throw on a comfy shirt, some shorts, your trusty worn-out sneakers, grab your bag, and head out.

Stepping outside, you’re met with a wave of heat that wraps around you like a snug, invisible blanket. The air feels thick and sticky, a relentless sun beating down with an intensity that turns the pavement into a makeshift oven. It’s the kind of hot that makes you think of ice-cold drinks and the cool water in the gym pool.

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips as your mind wanders to the last time you had the ingenious idea to cool off in there, but just ended up hotter and more sweaty. 

The entrance bell jingles lightly as you push open the gas station door, a subtle melody signaling your arrival to the air-conditioned oasis, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat outside. Fluorescent lights hum above, casting a cool, artificial glow on the neatly arranged shelves. You catch the clerk’s eye, a charismatic smile on his face as he takes you in. His gaze, appreciative and lingering, meets yours with a playful spark.

You offer a polite smile in acknowledgment as you make a beeline for the wine section. The cool chill of the fridge greets you, and after a contemplative moment, you choose a robust red with an intriguing label. You always choose your wine depending on the aesthetic of the label. Bonus points if it contains an animal. 

With the wine securely in hand, you turn your attention to the snack aisle, your eyes scanning the colorful array of options. The shelves are stacked with a tempting variety of chips, candies, and treats. You settle on a mix of savory and sweet delights after evaluating your options carefully. If there’s one thing you take seriously, it’s your snacks. 

Wine? Check. Snacks? Check. More wine for good measure? Check. Approaching the counter, you’re met with a friendly grin from the clerk, a handsome face with a name tag that reads “Chris”.

“You find everything alright?” he asks, his tone dipped in a hint of flirtation.

“Yeah, I think I got everything I need,” you say, putting everything on the counter for him to scan.

“Good choices. Looks like you’re in for a great night.”

You chuckle, handing over the cash and putting everything in your bag. “You gotta treat yourself sometimes, you know?”

Chris hands you your change, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. “Well, if you ever need someone to share that wine with, you know where to find me.”

You offer a nonchalant smile, shrugging off his subtle advance. If you weren’t set on being alone tonight, you’d entertain the idea, but alas, you stay the course. And yes, that’s the only reason. You’re not still thinking about the polaroid or Joel’s words — If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you — and why would you? It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good one!”

Exiting the gas station, the door closes behind you with a jingle, and the oppressive heat engulfs you once again. The air is thick with humidity, and despite the forecast promising rain, the sky stretches above in a flawless canvas of unbroken blue. It’s a serene sight, almost too serene, leaving a lingering sense of anticipation, as if something is about to shift. 

Shrugging off the uneasy feeling, you prepare to walk back home, reaching for your sunglasses to shield your eyes from the unrelenting sun. But just as you’re about to put them on, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Need help with those, gorgeous?”

How?

How does he manage to appear seemingly out of thin air wherever you go?

“As if there weren’t enough sleazy guys hanging around gas station parking lots already,” you sigh deeply and turn around to find Joel leaning casually against the weathered brick wall, arms crossed, biceps bulging, his face bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

An amused grin spreads across his face as your eyes meet. He looks effortlessly handsome in his jeans and brown t-shirt, his dark hair perfectly framing his face, the grays in his beard illuminated by the sunlight.

“You think I’m sleazy?” he flashes his irresistible smile and tilts his head in curiosity.

“I dunno, Joel,” you scoff and shake your head in mock annoyance. “Some people might consider lurking behind a run-down gas station to pounce on the next best woman that steps out pretty sleazy, you know? Just a heads-up in case you’re planning on spending the night here. I hear mace is pretty unpleasant.”

Joel snorts, his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. “Hey now, I’m not after the next best woman,” he tuts, the look in his eyes changing subtly as his gaze lingers on yours. “But you already know that.”

His tone of voice catches you off guard. Your face heats up and you look away bashfully, unsure how to respond. 

Joel eyes you curiously, expecting your trademark smart response, but you stay uncharacteristically quiet. He takes you in carefully, appreciating your side profile and the way your shorts hug your thighs. You look so beautiful in your casual outfit, so beautiful without even trying. Always.

The unbearable urge to hold you close, to feel you, to smell you, to show you how beautiful you are to him, takes over his body and mind within a split second.

“C’mere, darlin’.” 

“Why?” 

He rolls his eyes and tries to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “Get your tight little ass over here or watch what happens.”

You sigh deeply and shuffle towards him, acting like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world, like your panties aren’t already damp from his command alone. 

As soon as you’re within reaching distance, Joel grabs you by the arms and pushes you against the wall on the back of the gas station, caging you in with his body.

“Careful, fuck,” you hiss when you hear the wine bottles hit the wall, but Joel ignores you, too busy kissing your neck greedily while groping your chest.

You let your bag slide down onto the floor as carefully as possible, trying to take advantage of the last few seconds of clarity you have left before Joel’s touch shuts your brain off completely. 

“How do you always smell so good?” he mumbles more to himself than to you, his lips trailing sloppy kisses up and down your neck, and along your jaw. You shudder at the sensation, surrendering to the heat of his breath, the electrifying caress of his scruffy beard, and his rough hand massaging your breast. You’re putty in this man’s hands and you love it. 

“You know there’s a—mmm, that feels so good—there’s a security cam pointed directly at us?” you whisper between soft moans.

The parking lot is all fenced in by hedges, but you’re still outside in broad daylight. Plus, the camera.

“Don’t care,” Joel whispers into your neck, then pulls up your shirt without skipping a beat. You laugh at his nonchalance and just hope that there’s no live feed broadcasting your…impropriety. There probably is though. 

Coming here for late-night snacks or tampons when you ran out was super convenient, but what can you do.

Your pussy wants what it wants.

“God, I love your perfect tits,” Joel leans down to suck one into his mouth while massaging the other with his calloused hand. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, running your hands through his soft hair and arching your back as he licks and sucks on your soft skin. 

He releases your tit with a pop when he’s had his fill, but not before biting down on your nipple harshly. “Ow, Joel!” you cry out and shove at his chest, but he just smirks at your adorable tantrum, pressing your hands against the wall over your head, his intense gaze locking with yours. 

“Such a delicate little princess,” he taunts you with a chuckle, pressing his bulge against your core so the rough fabric of his jeans rubs your clit perfectly. You furrow your brow and whimper at the feeling, instinctively moving your hips to get the most friction. 

“You like that, baby?” he rasps before pressing his lips on yours in a messy, needy kiss — the type of kiss that leaves you breathless and lets you forget who you are. 

“Uh-huh,” you moan into his mouth, swirling your tongue around his, so far gone already that you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you right now. As if reading your mind, Joel lets go of your wrist to slide one of his hands down the inside of your shorts and panties, groaning against your lips when he can feel how wet you are.

“Goddamn, angel,” he chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll never get tired of you being a complete whore in public.” 

Joel lets go of your other wrist, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, tilting your head up, so he can look into your glazed-over eyes. “You keep those beautiful eyes on me,” he orders as he starts drawing tight circles on your clit with his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure. You nod and can’t hold back your moans this time, feeling your muscles tense and your thighs tremble with every movement of Joel’s hand. 

“You want more, baby?” he asks, eager to feel your pussy around his fingers, and to prepare you for his cock as well as possible given your time-sensitive situation. 

“Please Joel,” you moan, your breath quickening, “I want you.”

Satisfied with your answer, the pleading look in your eyes and the wetness seeping out of you, he slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, curling and pumping them while continuously stimulating your clit with the heel of his palm. You dig your fingers into his broad shoulders in response, needing an outlet for the pleasure building up inside you since you can’t moan as loud as you want. His dark eyes never leave yours, reveling in the facial expressions and noises he can draw out of you.

One of your hands wanders from grasping his shoulder to gripping his bare arm. You let your nails dig into him, not caring that you’re leaving marks. Joel doesn’t seem to mind either as he keeps going, his eyes locked on yours. 

“God, you’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispers, upping the pace and adding a third finger to work you open some more. “Fuck, that’s it,” you groan as you feel yourself getting close already, your walls constricting around Joel’s fingers, making it hard for him to move. 

“You better not come until I tell you to,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing just the right amount. You’re so close that you almost come instantly when the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain intensifies every sensation.

Joel can see the desperation in your eyes, can feel the pure need in your quivering body, can smell your arousal on your skin. His cock is straining painfully in his jeans and grinding against your hip only relieves so much tension.

He needs to fuck you – badly. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises you, the vein on his neck pulsating. “Come all over my hand, baby, let me feel you.” He keeps his eyes on yours as he feels you tensing even more, trying your hardest to keep quiet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you choke out as the tension finally snaps and your pulsating walls clamp down around Joel’s fingers. 

“That’s it, baby, you’re so fucking hot,” he pants before loosening the grip on your neck and pressing his lips on yours in a hungry kiss, absorbing all of your moans while you ride out your high on his hand. Your hips stutter as you try to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible, and you grip Joel’s hand in your pants to hold it in place while you do so. When you feel yourself come down again, you release his hand and let your head fall back onto the wall, your chest heaving.

“Still think I’m sleazy, hm?” Joel nudges your nose with his, the grin on his face too wide, too cocky, too irritatingly beautiful. 

“You’re such a dork,” you chuckle breathlessly, wiping away sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “And yes, very much yes.”

“Oh, really?” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his wet hand, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb slowly. “Says a lot about you then, doesn’t it, angel? Getting off on some sleazy guy’s hand behind a gas station.” 

You can’t stop the grin spreading on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck, your gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips and back again. You’re whole body’s aching for him to finally fill you up. 

Joel takes you in for a moment, a tender smile on his lips, loving how you look at him with your big, needy, glazed-over eyes, like he’s the only thing that matters to you — like he makes you happy. He knows this moment is fleeting, delicate, precious, so he holds onto it for as long and as tightly as he can.   

He kisses you, hard, desperate, pressing you against the wall with his body, moaning into your mouth. Your hands explore each other’s bodies feverishly, grabbing, pulling, mapping the contours of shoulders, necks, backs, while stealing each other’s breath. 

When you can’t take it anymore, your aching pussy screaming at you for relief, you move your hands down Joel’s belly hastily until you arrive at the waistband of his jeans. You look into his eyes as if asking for permission and he nods quickly, his cock twitching at the thought of finally being inside you.

He helps you open the button and zipper of his jeans before quickly pulling them down together with his boxer briefs to free his cock and balls. He lets out a labored breath when you spit on your hand and start jerking his cock, your left hand massaging his balls a little harsher than you usually would.

Joel’s strangled groans let you know that he’s loving every bit of it.

“You keep that up—fuck, that feels good—and I’m gonna come all over your shirt,” he chuckles against your lips, grunting when you increase the speed of your strokes. “Turn—oh shit—turn around for me, baby.”

You do so eagerly, and Joel loses no time pulling your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, exposing your ass and pussy to the light breeze that’s dancing through the air. You lean against the wall on your forearms, arching your back a bit, and wiggling your ass in anticipation. 

With one hand guiding his cock through your wet folds a few times before nudging your entrance, Joel presses his other hand against the wall to better brace himself. When he’s sufficiently coated in your juices, he pushes into you slowly, watching in awe how your body swallows his cock inch by inch. You whimper a little too loudly at the delicious stretch, unable to keep quiet now that you’re feeling him inside you. 

“Shh, I’m not even halfway in, angel,” he purrs, tracing your neck with his lips. “Be a good girl and shut the fuck up.”

He then pushes all the way into you in one harsh thrust, immediately clasping his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. You ball your hands into fists and close your eyes, getting lost in feeling him deep inside of you. 

You moan softly into his hand as Joel keeps thrusting up into you, his strokes rough and desperate. “Feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans, leaning back a bit to watch your ass jiggle with every snap of his hips.

You whimper and clench around him as a particularly deep stroke brings about a more intense wave of pleasure than before. Joel smirks and leans his head in closer to you, his lips grazing your ear. He removes his hand from your mouth, wanting nothing more than to hear your pretty little noises unfiltered. 

“You liked that one, huh?” he growls into your ear, his husky voice making you shudder. “Uh-huh,” you nod eagerly, desperate for more.

He adjusts his grip on your waist and uses his new leverage to pull you back onto his cock harshly, allowing himself even deeper access to you. You respond immediately, the frequency of your whimpers and restrained moans increasing.

“Faster,” you gasp.

Joel responds with a groan, but he obeys happily, picking up the pace. You hum contentedly as you can feel your second argasm building deep inside you, the tension winding tighter and tighter, climbing higher and higher with every calculated movement of Joel’s hips. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure and reach back to grip his forearm.

Beads of sweat run down his face and back as he tries to hold off until he’s gotten you there again. Luckily, he doesn’t have to hold out too much longer, as it only takes a few more hits to your G-spot to send you over the edge. 

“Let go, baby, I got you,” he rasps into your ear, desperate to feel you fall apart one more time. “Thaaat’s it. Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

He talks you through your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your walls clamp down on him, and waves of pleasure course through your trembling body. A cry begins to wrest itself from your throat, but Joel turns your head and presses his lips on yours just in time to keep you from being too loud. You kiss him back feverishly, the taste of him an intoxicating blend of urgency and tenderness.

He lets out a low, guttural groan against your lips as he finally lets himself go, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warm cum.

“Fuck me,” he pants breathlessly as he lowers his head, nestling it between your shoulder blades, soaking up the feeling of being this close to. He trails the nape of your neck with his nose, taking in your scent, and pressing a few soft kisses on your hot skin before pulling out of you.

You both lean against the wall with your backs, still gasping for breath as you continue to come down from your highs. Joel’s the first to break the silence, turning his head and gently rubbing your arm.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me one of these days.” 

You giggle and lift his hand to press a kiss on the back of his hand. “There’s worse ways to die. Plus, I’d give a helluva eulogy.” 

“Oh yeah?” he gives you a soft smile before taking some tissues out of his back pocket and handing them to you.

“Mhm,” you nod while cleaning yourself haphazardly. “The title: Eight firm reasons why I was happy to know Joel Miller.”

He snorts and looks at you with his jaw dropped in mock offense. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What? It’s gonna be cute and I’m gonna do a whole powerpoint presentation and everything,” you say as you pull your pants and panties back up.

He sighs deeply and pulls you closer by your waist. “I’ll take it. If you promise to wear that little dress you wore when we met.” 

You put your hands on his chest and look into his eyes, his heart beating steadily under your palm. “Its a deal. Now, will you finally tell me what you’re really doing here? Or was I right all along?” 

“I’m actually working today,” he chuckles, clasping his hands behind your back. “We’re remodeling a guy’s house a few blocks down the street, and I just came here to fill up the gas tank, not thinking about anything until I saw my favorite pair of legs.”

“Charming,” you scoff, cocking an eyebrow. “What a gentleman you are.”

“Would it help if I said that I also saw my favorite smile?” 

“Well, yes. But it’s okay,” you smirk. “Can’t blame you for noticing these babies. They’re pretty great.” 

Joel nods in agreement, leaning in to draw you closer and slowly kiss up and down your neck, his hands flattening against your spine. You close your eyes and hum at the sensation of his soft lips meeting your sensitive skin, letting yourself sink into his embrace and feel the reassuring touch of his hands.

He smells like home.

“You wanna come over later?” you ask while softly scratching his scalp. “I got some primo wine that I’d graciously share with you and I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but my pasta’ll knock your socks off.”

“Hmm, that sounds wonderful, darlin’,” he murmurs into your skin without stopping his kisses. “But I can’t tonight.”

“Oh?” you pull away from him far enough to look into his eyes. “What important business does Mr. Miller have on a beautiful Saturday night? No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re gonna play bingo at the senior center. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Very funny, you little brat,” he rolls his eyes and pinches your butt playfully. You grin at him, but furrow your brow slightly when you notice a subtle change in his eyes. 

“What?” 

“I’m, uh,” he clears his throat, “I’m actually going on a date.”

Your face falls. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“It’s not–” he cuts himself off before putting his hands on your arms, squeezing them gently. “We could meet up tomorrow if you want.” He gives you a hopeful smile, but you don’t hear him. 

“Darlin’?” 

“Huh?” you look at him, confused. Your chest feels tight.

“Are you free tomorrow? I could cook for you. And not to toot my own horn, but I look pretty damn good in an apron.” 

“I got plans tomorrow,” you say, taking a step back to pick up your bag. You grip the handles so hard your knuckles turn white. “How did you meet?” 

“Tommy set us up ‘cause he thinks I don’t get out enough,” Joel sighs, shaking his head slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Smartass gets married and thinks he suddenly knows everything.”

“Tommy set you up,” you repeat, your left eye twitching. 

“Yeah, and she’s nice, so I figured why not.”

“Yeah, why not,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“What are your plans, sweet–”

“Are you going out or…?”

“There’s this gin bar she really likes, so we’re going there. Sounds fun from what she described.” 

“Didn’t peg you as a gin drinker,” you scoff, absently kicking the cigarette butt in front of your feet.

“Yeah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “trying new things is good sometimes.”

“I bet,” you nod.

“Darlin’, I–” Joel trails off when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He exhales deeply, his brow furrowed. “Tommy. I gotta get back,” he murmurs regretfully. “Can I drive you home first?”

“No, thanks,” you shake your head. “I need to run a few more errands and you surely wanna take a shower before you, uh, before you go out.” 

His gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before he nods, “Okay, sweetheart. But promise to call me if you need anything, hm?”

“Will do, Joel,” you close your eyes when he cups your face and kisses your forehead. 

“Be good, okay?”

“You know me.”

He winks at you, gets in his car, and you watch him drive away.

-----

With your sunglasses on, you put one foot in front of the other as you make your way down the street. Going straight back home isn’t an option, so you decide to stroll around and indulge in a bit of window shopping until you don’t feel your heart in your throat anymore. It’s annoying as fuck.

Feeling Joel’s cum pooling in your panties isn’t helping either. 

“What did you expect,” you murmur to yourself as you come to a halt in front of your favorite antique shop. Opening a bag of chips, you start eating one after the other while perusing the pieces on display. Kind of like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s — just much less classy, and much more covered in crumbs. 

You exhale deeply and let your thoughts wander.

This shop means a lot to you. You got the lamp on your nightstand from here a few days after moving into your apartment. It was expensive, but Tommy encouraged you to get something special, something that would remind you of how far you’ve come and how this was your start into a new life. He was right. You love your lamp and what it stands for. 

Maybe, one day, you’ll finally splurge on that one little glass figurine of a sleeping fox you’ve been eyeing for so long. It’s pretty pricey and, at this point, you appreciate that it remains a special treat, something to anticipate and savor when the right moment comes.

You put the half-eaten bag of chips back and haphazardly wipe your fingers on your shorts before deciding to move on. There’s a thrift shop you’ve wanted to check out for a few months now, so you quickly check in Google Maps where it is, then walk in that direction.

You don’t get too far, though. 

Just as you turn the corner, you hear a voice call your name. It slices through you, sending a chill down your spine, stopping you dead in your tracks. You never expected to hear that voice again. Paralyzed, unable to run away, you gather your courage and take a deep breath before slowly turning around.

Your heart stops when you see her. She looks…different.

She walks towards you briskly, her dress billowing and fluttering with each step, a nervous energy evident in her movements and her smile. 

“Laura.”

“I, uh– hi” she says, her voice slightly shaky. “Would you, um, wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

There’s a dark cloud in the sky.

-----

“I’m visiting a friend for the weekend,” she tells you, deftly adding creamer to her coffee. “It’s so nice here. Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“I do, yeah,” you say, your hand planted firmly on the wooden table next to your cup.

The gentle hum of conversations in the small coffee shop blends with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee — an atmosphere that you’d usually enjoy, but feels claustrophobic right now. You feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“It’s such a lucky coincidence that we ran into each other,” Laura continues, a soft smile on her lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your new hair.” 

“I’ve had it for a while,” you respond curtly, avoiding direct eye contact. 

“Well, it suits you,” she says softly. As she absentmindedly caresses her little bump, your eyes fixate on the subtle movement.

“How far along are you?” you ask with a tight-lipped smile, still unable to meet her gaze. 

Laura’s features soften further, grateful for your question about her pregnancy. “I’m eighteen weeks and thr– no, four days today.” 

“How are you feeling?” you circle the rim of your cup with your finger, your leg bouncing continually. 

“Oh, um, I’ve had pretty awful morning sickness up until a few weeks ago. It’s, uh, it’s been fine apart from that. I’ve had lots of help, thankfully,” she tells you, taking a sip of her coffee. “My mom got clean about a year ago��unbelievable, I know—and Simon’s been doing good as well. He, um, he got a job at his dad’s firm and we’ve moved into a house with a garden. There’s a forest nearby and I’ve seen all sorts of animals already. You’d absolutely love it.”

She reaches out to you, her hand gently touching your arm as she notices your grip tightening around the cup. “Beanie?” The nickname and the warmth of her touch make you flinch.

“Please look at me,” she whispers, her request carrying a weight of emotion that transcends the simple act of looking at her.

You bite your lip and reluctantly meet her watery eyes — eyes that were once the embodiment of home for you. You’ve tried so hard to let go, to get over your pain, to heal. But now that you’re looking into Laura’s pleading eyes, it feels like you’re right back where you started, the pain in your chest resurfacing like an old wound, a dull ache that intensifies with every beat of your heart. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” she chokes out, reaching across the table again to take your hand in hers.

“Laura–”

“I’m sorry every day, Beanie. I can’t take back what I did and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I–I just miss you so much.” She wipes away her tears with the napkin on the table. “I miss you.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this right now?” you ask with raised eyebrows, searching her face and pulling your hand out of hers. 

“I–yes,” she sniffles into her napkin. “I’m so happy I ran into you, I really think it was meant to–”

“You know what, Laura?” you sigh, fed up with this charade. “Just spare me, okay? I’m over you pretending that you care even the least bit about me. This,” you gesture with your hand around her face, “this whole innocent act you’re putting on right now, it got old three years ago. I was blinded enough to believe it back then, but that version of me is long gone, dead. So, if you’re just here to try and manipulate me into feeling sorry for you, I got bad news for you.”

“That’s not–I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m so incredibly so–”

“How dare you even say that you’re sorry?” you hiss, unable to grasp how a person can be this deceitful. “You’re not sorry for what you did, Laura. Come on, admit that it was the best thing you ever did and that you go to bed every night being proud of yourself for it.”

“Beanie, please,” she whispers. “I am sorry and not one day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I–” she cuts herself off and takes a sip of her coffee, her hand trembling terribly as she sets it back down. “I know I was a horrible friend to you and that I hurt you, I do. Please believe me.” 

You turn your face away and exhale deeply. Why is this happening? 

“You were more than my friend, Laura,” you say quietly. “You were my sister. The only person I confided in, the one I fully trusted.” You ball your fist on your thigh, the physical pain of your nails digging into the flesh of your palm helping a little. “To this day, I haven’t told anyone else why I cut ties with my family or how I broke my hand. I only ever told you. Because you were there for me. Because that’s what we did — be there for each other.” 

You hear Laura sniffle, but she’s seemingly got enough decency not to interrupt you. 

“I told you what was going on with me and Simon and you fucking took that and jumped into bed with him. You broke my trust and lied to my face for months.”

You rub your temple, closing your eyes for a few seconds.

Laura says your name gently and you reluctantly turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are red and tearful, her hand trembling as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I should have told you what was going on, I know I should have. I was such a coward and then–then I just didn’t have the guts to do it after you told me you were–”

“Don’t,” you sharply lift your index finger and glare at her. 

“Look,” she exhales, a pained expression etched on her face. “I can’t take back what I–what we did. It wasn’t fair to you and I can assure you that Simon feels bad about it, too. Especially for not being there, you know, in the hospital.”

Is she for fucking real right now?

“How do you still think this has anything to do with Simon? I don’t give a shit about what he did or didn’t do. I didn’t trust him for a second while we were together. He’s an asshole who’s never gonna change, but you–“

You’re startled by the tears running down your cheeks, wiping them away quickly with your hands. You hate her for making you cry. And you hate her for giving you this pretentious empathetic look. 

“I was bleeding to death and couldn’t reach you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anger as your eyes pierce hers. “I tried Simon, too, but deep down I expected him not to care about me actually dying. I was just surprised that you didn’t care either. Don’t you dare look away right now. You need to hear this. I–I saw my life flash before my eyes before they put me under and the only thing I saw was you. You, Laura. My body was dying and the only thing my stupid heart cared about was to see you one last time.” 

A hiccup interrupts you, momentarily breaking the flow of your words. 

“I was scared to death and you weren’t there. I fucking needed you and you weren’t fucking there,” you whisper. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for not being there that day. Please, believe me, I am. It just–” she runs her hands through her hair, a new set of tears rolling down her wet cheeks. “I was so fucked up back then. I–I tried to get love from wherever I could and then I saw all your texts and calls too late and I didn’t know what to do. I was so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t know how to be better or how to help you. I’d give anything to be able to go back and change that,” Laura sobs, her voice barely intelligible.

Pathetic. 

“Why didn’t you reach out to me once in the past three years, then?” 

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, then exhales through her mouth before wiping her nose with her wet napkin. “I had to get my own shit together,” she murmurs defeatedly, “and that wasn’t easy. I dunno what to tell you other than I’m sorry that I fucked your life u–”

You abruptly get up from your seat, the chair protesting with a loud creak against the floor. You pay it no mind, nor the heads turning to look at you. All you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears, and all you can see is the woman who broke your heart. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you spit at her, leaning on the table and glaring into her eyes. “You don’t have the power to fuck my life up. My life’s been fucking great since I got rid of all the people trying to drag me down with them. I’ve never been this fucking happy before, so fuck you and your sorry apology. I don’t fucking want it or need it.”

You grab your bag and rummage through it for cash. “I feel sorry for you, Laura,” you murmur before walking past her and tossing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table in front of her. 

“Why?” She doesn’t look at you. 

“‘Cause you have no idea what you’re in for,” you laugh mirthlessly and shake your head. “You really believe he’s gonna be there for his kid and stay with you?”

“Yes.” 

“What in the world would make you think that,” you ask incredulously.

“Because we’re married,” she blurts out, turning in her seat to look up at you. 

You feel your soul leaving your body, hovering over you and watching your lifeless body standing there – shocked, paralyzed, heartbroken. 

“What did you just say?” you whisper, your words barely audible.

“We got married after we found out I was pregnant.”

You’re about to say something in response — how can you be so stupid, why would you bind yourself to that man, you know what he did to me — but your eyes fall onto her bump before finding her gaze again, and you decide to keep your mouth shut. It’s no use. She’s made her decision. 

“Good luck, Laura,” you turn around and make for the door. “You’re gonna need it.”

You welcome the rain that pours onto your face, washing away the fresh tears that roll down your cheeks. It doesn’t bother you that a car honks at you when you cross the street without looking. It also doesn’t bother you that your clothes are sopping wet and sticking to your body within a few minutes of your legs carrying you back home. You’re not allowing yourself to feel anything right now.

You’d break if you did, so you keep it together.

Until you walk by the gas station.

-----

“You’re not that trashy,” you murmur to yourself just as you’re about to drink straight out of the wine bottle.

Instead, you shuffle into your kitchen, get out your fanciest wine glass and pour yourself a generous amount. Your drenched clothes cling to you like a second skin. If you cared, you’d take them off to not end up with pneumonia, but the discomfort is soothing somehow.

You eye your sofa, but shake your head. You can’t sit on it like this, especially not with red wine in your shaky hand. You’re still coherent enough to care about materialistic bullshit like your pretty sofa. Priorities, right?

The wine goes down smoothly and the bottle is empty in no time. 

It’s not enough to stop the heaviness in your heart or the suffocating thoughts and images flooding your mind, though. You’re helpless in halting the relentless surge of them as you find yourself bent over the kitchen sink, fingers gripping the cool edge of the countertop, your head bowed low between your tense shoulders. Your eyes are shut, and your breaths come out short and ragged.

You see Joel leaning against a wall, beer in hand, looking a bit lost among the other housewarming guests happily chatting. That is, until you step in and your eyes meet. The spark in his eyes and the soft smile he gives you make your heart flutter. You talk about your lives, you flirt, you laugh, you go outside for fresh air, he lends you his flannel.

Your first kiss feels so familiar it hurts.

He wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around him, pulling him close, clinging to him as tightly as possible. Your heartbeats synchronize and his warmth envelops you in a soothing embrace. You lean your head against his chest. You feel at peace.  

“I could never be with someone like you,” he whispers, his nose grazing your ear. He kisses your cheek softly, his hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

“What?” You lift your head in shock and look into his eyes. They look different. 

“You’re broken, darlin’,” he says softly, his eyes showing genuine pity. “I could never love you.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead. 

“No one could.”

The mirror shatters, shards of glass scattering like stars across your living room floor.

11:26 p.m.

You sit on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest with your left arm tightly wrapped around them, your head resting on your knees as violent sobs wrack your body. You’re not really sure how it happened, or why, but it did.

The bathroom is filled with beeps as you wait anxiously for the call to connect, blood steadily dripping from your right hand.  

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whisper desperately.

“Darlin’?” you finally hear a raspy voice respond from the other end of the line.

“She’s fucking pregnant, Tommy,” you sob into the phone, your slurred words barely intelligible.

“Hey, hey,” he says with a soothing voice, laced with concern, “who’s pregnant?”

“She’s fucking pregnant and she ma–married Simon and now they’re the perfect fucking family,” you slur, your sobs making it hard to get out what your jambled brain is telling you to say.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” you hear Tommy’s soothing yet firm voice in your ear.

“Ho–ome,” you sob, “on, um, bath–bathroom floor.”

“Did you take something?”

“Jus’ alco–hol,” you sniffle. “Wanted to, um, stop my stupid brain.”

“Alright, darlin’,” he says calmly. “Can you tell me what you see?” You look around with unfocused and tearful eyes, trying to focus on your spinning surroundings.

“Can see the sink and my, uh—fuck, it’s bleeding,” you hiss as your bleary eyes try to focus on your bloody hand. 

“What’s bleeding?” Tommy asks, his eyes widening in shock, as he immediately sits up straight and quietly exits the bedroom so as to not wake his sleeping wife. 

“Jus’ my, uh, hand I think,” you mumble, moving your injured hand in front of your face, then looking around if you can spot blood coming from anywhere else on your body.

You can’t hold back a chuckle when you remember why you got a bloody hand.

“Listen to me,” you hear Tommy’s uncharacteristically stern voice. Did he sound like this when he was in the army? “I need you to turn on your camera and let me see your hand. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I– wait a sec,” you mumble and finally press the video call button after a few clumsy attempts. 

You change the direction of the camera, so it shows your hand and not your face, and you try your best to hold your phone as steady as possible with your trembling left hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy gasps at the picture you’re presenting to him, shock and concern etched on his face. He expected a scrape or maybe even a cut that was bleeding a bit, but he wasn’t expecting this. Your whole hand is stained with dried and fresh blood, your knuckles are bruised, and there’s a two-inch cut on the back of your hand that’s gushing blood.

“What?” you giggle deliriously at his shocked face. “‘S not that bad, issit.” 

“How did it happen?”

“Punched a mirror.”

You don’t tell him you punched it a second time when it was already broken, and that’s why you cut yourself so badly. 

“I’ll send Joel over to help you, okay? He lives closer to you than I do.”

Your brain has never sobered up faster than at the thought of Joel seeing you like this. 

“No,” you shout into the phone, startling Tommy and yourself alike. “Please, please don’t tell Joel, please. I–I’m fine, I’m sorry I called, I’m so fucking sorry, Tommy,” you start sobbing again. “He’s on a date,” you blurt out, “and I– please, Tommy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Tommy tries to calm you, glossing over how you know about the date. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not telling Joel and you don’t need to apologize, sweetheart.” He gives you his signature smile — the smile that made you feel safe the first time you saw it.

“Can you clean the wound yourself if I tell you what to do?”

“Mhm,” you answer, placing your phone on the floor and wiping your nose on your wet shirt.

“Alright, very good,” he coos. “Do you think you can get up and look for a first-aid-kit in your medicine cabinet?” 

His words take a few seconds to register in your brain, but you manage to understand them and get out a quiet “Yeah”. You look up at the mirror cabinet above your sink before shifting your weight to get up. When you automatically put your weight on your right hand, you cry out in pain.

“What happened?” you hear Tommy’s concerned voice. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

“‘S okay,” you groan, clutching your wrist with your left hand, a new set of tears making their way down your cheeks.

“Tell me when you got the kit.”

You get up slowly by pulling yourself up by the rim of your bathtub, then hold on to the sink with your uninjured hand. You take a few deep breaths before opening the cabinet door, looking for the first-aid-kit. Fortunately, it’s bright red, so you see it fairly quickly.

“Got it,” you mumble loud enough for the speaker on the floor to pick it up.

“Okay, darlin’,” Tommy says softly. “Take the kit and open it. Tell me if you can see the gauze.”

“Mhm, can see it.” 

“Alright, now run your hand under cold water first. When most of the blood’s cleaned off, you press the gauze directly onto the cut. You understand?”

“Yeah, got it.” You turn on the faucet, hissing as the cold water irritates your cut and all the scrapes on your fingers and knuckles. Your blood pools in the sink, mingling with the water, creating a macabre dance of crimson tendrils that gradually dissolve and swirl away.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, sitting back down, your left hand firmly pressing the gauze onto the cut. You close your eyes and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tommy,” you whisper. “For dragging you into my bullshit. Again.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he coos. “You know I’d always drop everything to help you.”

“But that’s so fucked up, Tommy,” you blurt out. “You shouldn’t have to help me ‘cause I just can’t get my shit together. You got your own life to worry about and you got the most wonderful wife in the whole world and I’m this fucked up little gremlin calling you at night ‘cause I punched a fucking mirror like a kid having a fucking temper tantrum. Why the fuck would you put up with that?” You inhale and exhale deeply. “Sorry for my language.”

He can’t hold back the genuine laugh escaping his lips. 

“What the fuck, Tommy,” you try to say in your most offended voice, but it’s kind of unconvincing since now you can’t hold back your own laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, clearing his throat, “but you’re being ridiculous. Get it through that thick skull of yours that there are people who genuinely love you and care about you. I don’t have to be there for you; I want to.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you murmur, wiping your nose on your shoulder. “For everything.”

“You wanna talk about what happened today?”

“It’s, uh,” you sigh deeply, “it’s been a strange day.” You look at your injured hand and suddenly feel beyond exhausted. “I think the bleeding has stopped.”

“That’s good. Let’s continue, then, hm?”

He guides you through applying antiseptic to the cut and all the little scrapes on your knuckles and fingers, and through bandaging your hand correctly. 

“Can you move every finger?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you rotate your wrist?”

“Fucking hurts, but yeah.”

“You’ll go see a doctor tomorrow, so they can give you an x-ray and make sure the wound is clean, you hear me?”

“Mhm, will do.” 

“Now, go to bed, sweetheart. Your back’s gonna thank you tomorrow.”

You drag your feet to your bedroom, phone in hand, turn on your bedside lamp, then suddenly hear Tommy say “There she is!” when you accidentally change the camera direction.

You laugh defeatedly and shake your head at his beaming smile as you plop down onto your bed. “Can you believe I punched a mirror? So dramatic, my god.”

Tommy chuckles and looks at you with adoration. You look like a complete mess with your disheveled hair, cracked lips and blood-stained shirt, but all he sees are your eyes and the smile on your lips. He wishes you‘d be kinder to yourself. But he knows better than to push you. He’s confident you’ll find your way. 

“I’m gonna turn the camera off, okay?” you murmur. “Don’t want you to get nightmares.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful little gremlin I’ve ever seen.” 

“Hey, you’re supposed to be nice to me right now,” you pout, eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. Turning off the camera, you let your phone fall onto the bed. You strip off your pants, panties and socks, shrug off your shirt and grab a fresh one from your drawer.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Could you, um, could you stay on the phone with me?” you ask as you put on a new pair of panties. “Just for a bit?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. You just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’m here.” 

You slide under your covers, turn off the lamp and close your eyes. 

“Tommy?” 

“Yes, honey?” 

“Thank you.”

-----

Thanks for reading, guys!! 🤍 part 5 || part 7 || series masterlist

tagging: @paleidiot @pattwtf let me know if you want to be added!

[forever-rogue]

aaahhh i dont know if you’re still taking requests but i’d love some joel miller x pregnant!reader!! something soft n sweet and nothing but happy for my man! 🥰🥰

AN | It’s a whole lot of angst, but also softness! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel , Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stared at the bright blue sky and let out a long sigh. It was a pretty day, warm and breezy, and quiet. You enjoyed the quiet on the rare occasions you found it; today it was almost too loud. The tranquil stillness almost reminded you of the times before the world fell apart; familiar and calm. The wind was whistling softly through the tall grass and you tried to focus on the sound. Your eyes closed, the sun warming you up and slowly managing to lull you to sleep. It hadn’t helped that you had been exhausted lately. It hadn’t helped that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t meant to get pregnant. Not really, not now anyway. Maybe one day in the future…if there was a future other than the current reality. You hadn’t been sure you wanted to bring a child into this reality. But it was too late to worry about that. 

You still hadn’t told him. It wasn’t that you were keeping it from Joel intentionally…well, you supposed you were. You’d meant to tell him, and you would…soon. It was obvious you were pregnant now, and within a community such as yours, it wasn’t going to stay quiet for too long. You knew other women that had babies throughout the years now, but you had just never imagined that it would be you too. 

More than anything you were surprised that he hadn’t put two and two together. He must have thought that you were sleeping around if he hadn’t realized he was the father. It made you laugh in a very unamused way; did he really not see that you only had eyes for him? Or perhaps he didn’t feel the same way about you. The reality stung a little bit…you thought you had been growing close to him, thought you might actually have something. But he’d barely even looked at you lately. 

It was a fine mess you’d gotten yourself into.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come on, little blob,” you groaned as you struggled to sit up. Your bump wasn’t huge yet, but it was already making some everyday things harder. It took a moment to pull yourself to your feet, but once you did, you stretched, enjoying the popping in your joints, “we gotta get back. We have to do some laundry.”

When you turned around you almost shrieked in surprise. You hadn’t heard him come, hadn’t sensed his presence in the slightest. You wondered how long he had been standing there.

“Joel,” his name was just a mere whisper from your lips, “w-what are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” he asked softly, his voice almost cracking, “please?”

Your heart beat rapidly as you tried to figure out why he would want to talk to you. He��d been basically avoiding you and now he wanted to speak. It was almost laughable in some ways. You nodded one, “sure.”

“Will you come to mine?” instead of verbalizing an answer you started to walk towards the makeshift town, waiting for him to catch up. He trailed after you, hands in his pockets before catching up with you and walking side by side. It was silent between the two you, only the crunch of gravel underneath your feet. You were feeling a million things all at once, including nauseous, but you knew this time it wasn’t from the baby. 

He let you inside, closing the door after you as you stood there awkwardly. You’d been there countless times before but something felt so different today, “you can sit you know.”

“‘m okay,” you insisted. Petulant. Tired. Heartbroken. He nodded as he stood there and leaned against the kitchen counter, “back hurts…it helps to stand sometimes.”

“Mmm,” he nodded as if he understood. You supposed he did in some ways; you weren’t the first pregnant woman in his life. He paused for a few moments before meeting your eyes, “when were you going to tell me it’s mine?”

“When are you going to stop running away from like I have the plague?” you countered in a sharp tone, crossing your arms over your chest, “you haven’t even looked me in the eye since everyone found out that I’m…pregnant.”

“It’s not that-”

“Then what is it, Joel?” you wiped at the tears that had already welled up, “because it sure seems like some suspicious timing.”

“How was I supposed to know it was-”

“Because you’re the only one I’ve been with!” you almost shouted at him, “did you really think I was going around just whoring with a bunch of different guys?”

“I…I don’t know,” he sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his tired face, “I guess I don’t know what I thought.”

“Yeah?” you scoffed and hung your head, “I hope you know how shitty that feels to hear. You think so little of me - of what I thought we had…I really cared about you, Joel.”

You were really over having this conversation and felt like it was going nowhere. You tried to push past him, but he stopped you, fingers wrapping around your wrist, “don’t just walk away.”

“Why not?” you pulled your arm out of his grasp and met his hard gaze, “give me a reason to stay.”

“You can’t just…” he groaned, frustrated with himself more than anything. He was a grown man, he should have things figured out by now and yet he felt like he knew nothing. This was an unprecedented type of thing and he felt so confused and lost. The one thing he did know was that he didn’t want you to be upset. He just wanted you to protect you, keep you safe, and…fuck. He loved you - he knew that much. But he was sure that you wouldn’t believe him right now. Before you could turn around he blurted out, “I’m scared.”

“You’re scared?” you were incredulous, your question coming out with a snort of amusement, “you’re scared, Joel? How the fuck do you think I feel? I’m pregnant, I’m alone, and you - the father of my child - have been icing me out. I’m scared too. But I could at the very least use a friend. You can’t even give me that.”

The two of you looked at each slightly, chests rising and falling rapidly. When he didn’t say anything else you walked out the door and let it slam behind you. You half wondered if he would come after you, try and fix this, but you didn’t hear a sound behind you. Alone. Again.

You should have been used to it by now. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You spent the night tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable sleeping positive and unable to let go of the thoughts of Joel. Admittedly, you did feel a little bad with how you reacted and practically yelled at him. But you also hadn’t been lying when you said you were scared and hurt too.

That’s all you were, you supposed. Two scared, hurt individuals that had come together and fallen in love. Or something like it. Love adjacent. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to admit you were in love with Joel. But you definitely did love him. It was…complicated. 

And as much as it was complicated, you wanted to make things right. You understood why Joel was scared; his wife had left him and then he’d lost his baby girl, Sarah, at the start of all of this mess, and then he’d almost lost Ellie too. You could glean why he was hesitant to form close relationships and bonds, let alone bring a child into the world. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you…he was just scared. And that was valid. But you still held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would be able to figure it out all. If he still wanted…you weren’t about to force him to be in the child’s life if he didn’t want to be. But then again, it would get interesting as the child got older considering everyone knew everyone’s business. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you slid off the bed and put on your shoes, pulling on a cardigan as you got ready to go out and see if he was still awake. It was late, but Joel kept odd hours, so you figured it was worth a try. 

You didn’t make it very far. When you opened the door, you found Joel on the other side, his eyes widening in surprise. His hand was raised and poised to knock; despite everything that had happened lately you both laughed softly. Clearly this was something that was important to you.

“Can I hug you?” the question was almost whispered, his closing as you tried to gauge your reaction. You felt a lot of things in that moment, but most importantly you realized that yeah, you really, really wanted a hug. And not just any hug - a hug from Joel. 

“Yes,” you wrapped your arms around him and you pulled you into his warm frame, enveloping you in the best hug you’d had in a while. He was so familiar that you couldn’t help the small sound that escaped your lips. This was definitely exactly what you had needed, even if you hadn’t known that. You buried your face in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent, practically going boneless into his touch, “Joel.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out heavily, shaky and nervous, but at the same time relieved. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing your back in soothing circles. Joel always did give the best hugs, “sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

“Hey,” you pulled back and gave him a soft smile. You reached for his hand and pulled him inside, “I’m sorry too, Joel.”

“What are you sorry for?” you dragged him over to the couch and sat down, motioning for him to do the same. You looked at him with soft eyes before shrugging lightly, “I feel like there’s a whole lot more I should be sorry for.”

“How about we just talk about it and not be sorry?” you suggested and a little half smile tugged up the corner of his mouth, “I feel like we can figure it out.”

“We can,” he agreed, looking you over. You didn’t miss the way that his eyes lingered on your belly, “I shouldn’t have just assumed…anything. I should have just come and talked to you. Right away.”

“I tried to tell you,” your breath hitched slightly at the feeling of his hand on your knee. You’d missed his touch more than you had realized. Even just a simple gesture such as this, “but I knew that people were already talking. They’d seen me with a few of the other guys - and you - and just assumed I fucked them all. Joel, I hope you know and that you believe me when I say that I never slept with anyone else. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to. They were just friends. You and I…we had something special. When I found out and you acted so indifferent it just…hurt.”

“I didn’t…ever think that it was anyone else,” he confessed to which you made a small sound of surprise, “I knew you wouldn’t have…I guess I was just…shocked. It was the last thing I was expecting. I never thought that this would happen.”

“Me neither,” you laughed softly, “obviously I never planned to get pregnant, I never really wanted to…the idea of bringing a child into his world is scary. I didn’t even know if I really wanted to keep it at first but…well, here we are.”

“I wish I wouldn’t have been such a coward,” he laughed bitterly, “maybe things could have been better.”

“As much as I want to be mad at you, I know you weren’t a coward,” you put a finger under his chin and tilted his face up towards yours, “I know you were scared. Just like me.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it all,” he took your hand in his and traced aimless shapes on your skin, “about Sarah…about Ellie. And the idea that I could have another child and maybe something horrible would happen took over. It was all I could think about. And then I realized that if this was how I was feeling, I couldn’t even imagine what you were feeling. And I had left you all alone.”

“It was hard,” you flipped his palm over and repeated the gesture on him, “lots of nights of sadness and frustration. But...I’m still here. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“What if it’s not?”

“We can’t think like that,” you insisted, “I know this world is different than anything we dreamed of, but that’s just what it is. And I don’t want to fear it all the time. I want…I don’t know. But I don’t want to be afraid all the time. I want to be able to enjoy this moment, t-this baby.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, nodding his head softly, “you’re right.”

“I’m not saying that you have to be a part of this Joel,” you promised, hoping that it would serve as a little bit of solace, “you don’t have to be a part of the baby’s life. Not unless you want to. You don’t have to make a decision now, but we can figure it out.”

“I want to,” he insisted and when you met his soft eyes you could see that he was being honest, “I really do want to.”

“Yeah?” you felt a wave of emotion wash over you and Joel reached over to wipe away the tears that you hadn’t even realized had rolled down your cheeks, “are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he brushed his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “I…I really want this. I want you.”

You gasped at the revelation and he smiled lightly. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as he nodded, “Joel…”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just saying that. I love you,” he whispered, softly but so loudly at the same time, “I’m not just saying it. I mean it and I hope you always know that. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it sooner o-or tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you gave him a tearful nod, “I think we both had a lot to think about before we got to this point. I love you too, Joel.”

He made a small sound as you laughed lightly, a sound that went straight to his heart. He swallowed thickly as you leaned and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I don’t know if I deserved that.”

“I don’t know if you did either,” you grinned sweetly, “but you can work for it. Earn it back. If you’re up for it.”

“Yes,” he promised, “absolutely.”

“Good,” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth and Joel thought he might die from the sight. You looked in the direction of your bedroom and motioned with it towards your head, “do you want to stay?”

“You sure?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” you rubbed a hand over tenderly over your bump, “maybe have you there would help.”

“Maybe…”

“It’s worth a try,” you slowly stood up and held out your hand, “c’mon. We’ll figure it all out, I promise.”

“We will,” he took your hand again, and laced his fingers through yours, “I swear we will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[luvrxbunny]

buzz

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You get high with Joel and some things are discussed. 

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol consumption, smoking (weed), praise kink-ish, hair pulling, dry humping, cum in pants(?) (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.5k

A/N: I definitely have a thing for guys cumming in their pants. 

You speed the whole way to Joel’s house. You were supposed to be there at 12:30 pm but after some time management and fashion complications you were arriving at 2:45 pm. You knew your father was going to murder you, he had been planning this barbeque for weeks, and he had gotten the whole neighborhood involved as well. You knock frantically until Joel answers the door. 

Your spine straightens as you watch a smile spread over his face. “Look who decided to drop by!” You grunt at him and let yourself in. “I know Joel! Where is he? I brought pumpkin pie..?” You offer as an apology.

You whirl around the kitchen, looking for somewhere to put it. Joel watches you run around his kitchen, your little pink skirt twirling around with you. “How ‘bout you give me that pie and just go see your old man?” You stop your search and look at him like he’s saved your life. “Perfect! So perfect Joel! You’re lovely.” You kiss him on the cheek quickly and run off to find your dad. Joel is left standing in the middle of his kitchen with your pie in his hands and the ghost of your kiss on his cheek. He chuckles before setting it down, pretending like a blush isn’t rising to his cheeks and spreading over his face.

“Dad?!” You finally find your father in Joel's backyard and wrap your arms around him tightly. “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t find an outfit and then I had to go to like three whole different stores to find the stupid pumpkin pie that no one even asked for and then by the time I started heading over here I was like an hour away and-”  He cuts off your rambling with a deep laugh. 

“Don’t worry about it honeybee!” He comes a bit closer to whisper in your ear. “Got all the neighborhood women here with Joel answering the door,” He tells you. You assume he's been drinking as laughter escapes him with every word. “Ugh! Stop it, Dad.” 

You cover your face with a laugh, shaking your head because you know exactly what he’s talking about. You and Joel talk about it all the time. It had come up during one of your many late-night talks, and he denied it to no end, he had no clue that the women in the neighborhood wanted him. You had to start pointing out their behaviors to him. The way some wives would offer to make him a plate while their husbands were empty-handed, how there was always at least one lady asking to fix him a drink, and there was even a lady who offered to fan him on a hot day. Joel accepted that you were right and now basked in the attention. He openly entertains their flirting now, offering to do husbandly tasks around the house from time to time.

You almost wish you hadn’t made him aware of it. Now you have to watch them flirt with him while knowing that he knows they want him. You’re aware of the way his chest slightly puffs out when they compliment him, something he used to only do for you. When you used to bathe in the way he reacted to your compliments, your innuendos, but now they’re commonplace for him. You liked to see the way he craved them, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He’d do little things for you, fix you a plate, offer to drive you anywhere you wanted to go, just to hear it. Now though, he doesn’t need it. If he ever needs a confidence boost, Joel can just put it in your dad’s head that he needs to throw a barbecue. Joel always hosts because he has the best backyard so your dad never has any reason to say no, plus he loves grilling for the neighborhood.

You imagine that's how this cookout came to be as you’re standing with your dad and his friends. You aren’t listening to the conversation, you’re watching Joel. He has a beer in his hand and looks a little uncomfortable in his shirt, fiddling with his collar as he’s swarmed by the wives. You can see that the tips of his ears are red, presumably from the attention of the whores the wives. Anger bubbles in your chest as watch his dimple appear on his cheek when they talk to him, no doubt praising every aspect of him. You have no right to feel this way, he isn't yours. You decide to ignore the feeling and get another drink.

The night moves on and you can hear people gathering their things to head home. You migrated inside halfway through the night to “recharge your social battery” when you’re really just smoking in Joel’s garage/workshop. You’re sitting on a small office couch, through the walls you listen to people thank Joel and your father before leaving. You wait for a few more minutes, finishing off your joint before spraying yourself down and coming out. 

You make your way over to the living room to find your dad and Joel sitting on opposite ends of the sectional, drinking and watching TV. Joel looks more comfortable now that he’s changed out of his jeans and button-up and into a t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“Hey, honeybee! C’mere make yourself comfortable!” You smile at your dad’s invitation and sit in the corner seat, between him and Joel. 

“Where’d you run off to? Mrs. Thompson was asking for you.” You can hear a bit of sadness in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Dad. She was harassing me all night! Asking about why I was late, how it wasn’t fair to you, that I need to get my act together and I couldn’t deal.” You state, outwardly upset. “I mean I already know these things and I feel bad enough y’know? I just don’t need to hear it from a lady who takes her dogs to brunch.” Joel bursts out laughing at your remark causing a smile to spread on your face.

“The kid’s got a point, man. That lady will talk you into a coma if you let her.” He mutters as he takes another swig of his beer. You feel smugness settle in your chest at the fact that Joel is siding with you. Your dad nods his head and mumbles out in agreement and you all focus on the TV. You’re not paying attention to whatever it is that they’re watching due to the light buzz you’ve got going.

Instead, you’re thinking about Joel. The gray strands in his hair, the patches in his beard, his hands, his arms... your mind swarms with everything that is him. Until you feel a light push against your arm, you turn to see Joel pointing at your dad, an amused smile on his face. You’re head whirls around to see your dad, passed out on the couch. You laugh gently at him and shake your head before walking over to wake him up. You shake his arm gently, “C’mon pop, you should head on home.” You say with a light giggle as he groans, pushing himself up from the seat to give you a tight hug. “Alright honeybee, you got me.” You laugh into his shoulder as he squeezes you and let's go. You see his face scrunch up before sniffing lightly, “You smell that?”

You tense for a short moment before answering, “Yeah I know! I was in Joel’s workshop and it smells funky in there!” Your dad is shaking his head in disapproval at Joel as you hold in laughter. “Joel, you really gotta clean up in there, man okay?” He laughs as he pulls Joel in for a brief hug before leaving.

Joel immediately turns around and gives you a look. “If you’re gonna be smokin’ in my garage you can’t start blamin' your stink on me, darlin’. ” He has a soft smirk on his face as he says this, changing the channel from what looks like football to an episode of Rick & Morty, and walking to his kitchen.

“Oh, whatever! I don’t wanna hear complaining as long as I’m sharing with you, for free, might I add!” You shout back at him.

Joel walks out of the kitchen and towards you with snacks and drinks. He sits back down on the couch, a bit closer to you than he was before, and sets them down. You quickly grab a drink, your favorite, and open it up, “Joel, I didn’t know you had these!” You announce while happily sipping. He kicks his feet up on the table as he starts another beer, focused on the screen in front of him. “No, you jus' mentioned them the last time you were here,” He points at the TV, “same with this shit.”

You’re frozen as you process what he’s told you, that he listens, it makes you feel warm and happy as you sink into the couch. You guys sit there, drinking and laughing at the show for a while. Your cans are both empty by the time you remember you have a blunt in your bag. 

You interrupt the show with a dramatic gasp and run over to his workshop.

“What?! What?” Joel shouts at you as you run, worried until he hears your giggles and sees you return with a blunt and a pink lighter.

“Jesus, honey.” He places a hand on his chest and huffs out a laugh before continuing, “nearly gave me a damn heart attack, thought you were sick or something.”

His care for you makes your stomach tingle, in a wholesome and not so wholesome way.

“Aww Joel, you’re gonna make me burn up.” You say while fanning your face jokingly, despite it being completely true. You walk up to where Joel is sitting and light the blunt before handing it to him and walking over to the kitchen, taking his empty can with you to the trash. You think you can feel Joel’s eyes on your hips as you walk away but ultimately chalk it up to your delusions. 

Joel watches the way your ass moves as you walk away, taking a long hit from the blunt in an attempt to calm himself. You walk back into the room with some apple juice and the biggest smile on your face, “I fucking love apple juice” you giggle out at him, a little tipsy. 

He chuckles before taking another hit, “S’why I buy ‘em, sweetheart.” His voice is strained from the puff he’s holding in and looks over at you as he exhales. You’re looking at him in a way he hasn’t seen before, with something in your eye that he doesn’t recognize. “What's wrong?” He sounds concerned, his tone snapping you out of your trance and you begin to make your way over to him. 

“Nothing is wrong.” You take the blunt from him and sit back down, closer to him than you were before. “I’m thinking about how much the neighborhood wives would pay to be in my position.” This gets a loud, booming laugh out of Joel that makes your heart race. You giggle quietly as you take a hit, trying not to choke on the smoke while laughing. 

“You are too damn funny, kid. The wives should keep their money, and spend it on something nice.” He chuckles and sinks further into the couch, feeling his high start to hit when you pass the blunt back to him. 

“Aww stop it, Joel. You’re definitely something nice.” You push him gently, he exaggerates it and throws himself across the couch, making you laugh. “Stop, I’m serious!” You raise your voice over his fake groans of pain as pass the blunt.

“Yeah yeah I know, I just- honestly?” He pauses to take a large drag before continuing, “I just wouldn’t know what to do with ‘em.” He shrugs and passes the blunt back to you. “I don’t even know what ladies like nowadays” He finishes with a sad chuckle and shrugs.

“Really? I always assumed you were some crazy bachelor by night.” You say with a serious look before taking another puff.

“Ha. Ha. No, I’m serious. If I had all this attention when I was 19- hell even 18, I would’ve been all over these women,” He laughs softly. “but Sarah was born and I uh-” He turns to you and reaches for the blunt delicately, which you had over with a fond smile. He takes a hit before he continues, “Yeah so Sarah was born and I was so just busy raising her that I never really had time?”

You scoot closer to him take the blunt and drop some ashes in your empty apple juice bottle. You’re sitting on your legs as you listen to him, close enough that your knees are now touching his thigh and you’re blowing smoke into his cheek.

“I guess but she’s 19 now, Joel. She doesn’t really need you to raise her anymore.” You take another hit as you hear him softly gasp and put a hand over his chest.

“You’re gonna break my old heart, darlin’. You can’t say that to me.” He turns to you with a fake crying expression and you can tell he’s high, his eyes are dropping, a little unfocused, and almost bloodshot. It makes you giggle.

“She still needs you as a parent of course but you can get back out there. You’d be such a hit.” You laugh as you take another hit and Joel repositions himself so he’s a little more turned towards you, his arm comes up to rest on the couch behind you and one leg gets pulled up on the couch so your knees are now touching his shin.

“Would I?” He questions with his eyebrows furrowed and you’re about to answer him but the words die on your tongue. You watch his hand grab your wrist, twist so your palm is facing him, and pull the blunt to his mouth from between your fingers, holding you in place as he takes a hit. The action and contact have you throbbing between your legs, worsening when he releases you and you watch him close his eyes and exhale, his head falling slightly back before looking over at you. “In the dating pool, I mean. Do you really think I’d be a-” His hands come up for air quotes. “Hit?”

You have to gather your thoughts a bit before answering him. “Oh yeah, Joel. You’re exactly what women want.” You take another hit as Joel chuckles and stretches his neck before letting his head fall back on the couch, he places his foot back on the floor and adjusts his hips, spreading his legs a bit more. “What do ‘ya mean?” He grunts out.

You’re too busy staring at his hips to notice his question. You think you see something twitch against his thigh, your eyes dart up and make contact with his the moment you do. Joel reaches over and takes the blunt, you admire him as he takes a few hits before speaking again. “I asked you to explain, sweetheart.”

“Oh- uh, you’re just a specimen, Joel.” Your tongue is looser, your filter is off: you’re high. “You’re big and broad and you care. You’re nice to people and really mean to others and you’re so.. strong.” Joel takes another hit with a soft groan as you ramble deliriously. You notice something starting to press against his sweatpants and become fixated on it. “You’re protective and shy and you’re always trying. Your hair is salt and peppery and so fluffy-” You cut yourself off with a dramatic groan to emphasize your point. “You have a beard and warm brown eyes.” You’re watching his hips as they start to gently thrust into the air. He’s still holding the blunt but it’s been forgotten, the little orange bud having gone out. You can watch him fill up in his sweatpants, unconstricted, just pressing right up against the fabric. “You look scary but you’re actually not, girls- ladies um, they love that.”

Your heart is racing and you’re leaking between your legs, to the point where you’re worried you’ve soaked your panties through and started staining Joel’s couch. Your hips begin to subconsciously grind clit against your heel in time with Joel’s thrusts. “Uhm-” Your breathing is getting heavy but you can’t help it. “You’re voice is so good, s-smooth and deep an-and you have that southern accent.” Your eyes are hooded as you move your eyes up to see him, watching his furrowed expression as best you can with his face to the ceiling. "You're big, you're broad and all muscle.." You can see his chest beginning to heave as his eyelids flutter gently, still closed as his hips grind into the air. “And you’re such a gentleman Joel.”

Your voice has pitched up into a whine and it forces his eyes open, they meet your instantly. A groan comes from his throat as he registers your slowing hips, embarrassment creeping up inside you. He holds his eye contact with you as his hips stutter, his irises consumed by his pupil. Your eyes wander down from his to his lips and his tongue runs over them reflexively. When they meet him again they’re more desperate, his breaths coming faster. “So you wanna c’mere an’ kiss me or what?” He says with an uncharacteristically nervous tone, a hot red blush rising on his cheeks as you watch him twitch in his pants.

You swing one leg over him as soon as he offers, placing yourself directly over his bulge and his hands are gripping you instantly. “HOLY-” Joel shouts quickly and breathlessly the moment your pussy presses against him. “Fuck- I’m sorry- forgot we smoked. Fuck my body is fuckin’ vibratin’- I’m sorry.”

You huff out a soft laugh and put the rest of your weight down on him, earning a groan from him. “I know-” I moan slips out of you as you slowly start moving your hips. “I feel it too, Joel” 

You whisper gently in his ear before grinding yourself against him fully, the fabric of his sweatpants feeling perfect when pressed into you. His hands are gripping his hips and his head is still thrown back over the couch. He has his eyes pressed shut and rugged groans slip out of him as he begins to buck up into you, finally bringing his head up.

“Fuuuck, sweetie. Are all girls as soft as you now? Huh? Or are you special?” He moans against your ear, his breath tingling as it runs over the back of your neck. You’ve buried your face in the crook of his neck as your hips hump into him, one is gripping the fabric on his lower back, trying to push him against you harder and the other is behind his neck, sliding its way up into his hair. Once it reaches its destination you get a shocked moan from Joel as he pushes his head back into your hand. You moan and speed your hips up, rubbing your clit against him perfectly.

“I’m special.” You moan into his ear in response, feeling pleasure pool in your stomach and begin to spill over as Joel thrusts up into you. Your hands pull his hair earning a beautiful whine from him and begin to shake as your hips stutter. "All guys moan like this or are you special?“ You manage to get out in between moans, taunting him with his words. He moans even louder at your words, his hips speeding up in an impossible pace. You're almost overwhelmed with all the pleasure assaulting your senses. "N-Never felt this good before- shit, Joel.” His name comes out as a whine before you moan out and start cumming in his lap.

Your back is arched and your hips are grinding frantically into his cock as you moan in his ear, yanking on his hair in the process. You feel his huge arms wrap around you and hug you tightly to his chest before his hips smash up into you. He has his face turned into your neck and is whimpering into it every time his cock makes contact with your soft pussy. 

"Thank you, baby. Thank you, honey- fuck, feels so fuckin' good." His voice devolves into a whine as he freezes and you can feel his cock pulse against you. You feel him twitch several times as a wet patch spreads under your pussy. You can feel his lips open in a silent moan against your neck. He sounds winded when he starts breathing again, moans sliding out alongside his exhales. 

His muscles stop shaking before he speaks again, a sad groan coming out of him as he opens his mouth. “I used to be better than this, I swear.” His eyes are still closed as he gently presses up into you again with a groan, his cock twitching and spurting more cum into his pants. “Back in my prime, I would’ve rocked your world, would’ve had you shaking for me.”

You giggle into his neck before pulling back and placing a kiss on his nose softly. “I think you are in your prime, Joel.” He looks at you in disbelief.

“I don't see you shakin’, sweetheart.” You shake your head at him softly and grab his face with both of your hands. “I’m willing to give you time to change that.”

You see his eyes darken and his breathing gets shallow again, his hands tightening around you. He leans into your face with a smirk. “Y’know, I never even got that kiss…”

You giggle and pull him to you, kissing him with everything you have and feeling in the depths of your soul, that this was going to become a regular thing for you. You smile against Joel’s lips and your heart races at the thought. You pull away to giggle but he pulls you right back in, muttering out a muffled “Not enough” before smashing his lips to yours. 

You kiss him as much as he wants, bathing in his attention, for the rest of the night. 

Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM (series masterlist) - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there.

a note from Lucy: biblical imagry, canibalism as a mataphor, animal imagry, joels stiff upper lip, mutual pining, two grown adults being bloody cowards!!! It's all fucking crack cocaine to me. So...enjoy two iditos in love. All parts are in chronological order.

playlist

NEPHILIM: BAMBI

w/c: 1563 | angst, fluff

summary: when does a human stop being regarded as a human…and, instead, seen as something different entirely?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n but reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, no physical description of reader apart from ‘long lashes’, brief descriptions of injury and blood, religious imagery, use of guns/ being taught to shoot, me not remembering how to shoot even though I was taught how to so there may be inaccuracies lolsies, Joel is a little bit of a dick but it’s only because he cares!

NEPHILIM

w/c: 2498 | angst, smut

summary: the disturbing comforts the disturbed.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, I tried to keep her body type as generic as possible but he might be slightly skinny coded so please let me know and I’ll change it in edits, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, rough sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit)

NEPHILIM: THE FALLEN | POEM

wc: 2755 | angst, fluff?, smut

summary: fallen or damned? who's to tell when it's joel miller

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, yearning, idiots in love, angst angst angst!!!!!!, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, oral sex (m! receiving), rough oral sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit) - Lucy crying over a bloody google doc :)

[thirstyforcharacters]

Reconnection

Part 2 of the Mistakes Series

Part 1: Mistakes. Part 3: Healing

Summary: You walked away from Joel after the confrontation at Bill and Frank’s. You thought you’d never see him again. Until you did.

Warnings: angst!!!!! reader is lonely :( Joel and reader are getting better at emotions!!! mentions of canon typical violence, allusion to sexual activities, happy-ish ending

WC: 2025

Notes: soooo here is the sequel to Mistakes!! I had originally planned on only having this series be two parts, and then I thought it would be three or four, but now I’m kind of back to only doing two bc I really liked how this part ended!!! Lmk what you think about that!!

Walking out was simultaneously the best and worst thing you could’ve done for yourself. You didn’t wake up feeling unwanted. You did what you wanted when you wanted because no one was there to hover over you. You lived in the woods, trading with other people like you, dodging Infected, and killing raiders who tried to make your life more of a living hell than living on this earth already was.

But you were lonely. You missed the times you had with Joel and Tess before everything happened. You missed the feeling of having a family, even if they weren’t a great one at the end. They were the only two people you trusted, and not having that safety net was terrifying. But you made your choice and you stuck to it. On April 23rd, 2023, you left the Boston QZ and didn’t look back, not even as Joel pleaded with you to stay. Not even as you saw tears start to fill Tess’s eyes for the first and last time. Not even as you snuck through the gate and slit the FEDRA agent’s throat who tried to stop you.

For a year, you wandered. Slowly, you traveled, going from Boston down to Pennsylvania, then you made your way through the Midwest. You didn’t really have a destination, you just knew that you wanted to be as far away from Boston as you could get.

And on April 23rd, 2024, you found Jackson, Wyoming.

Well to be more specific, the residents found you.

As always, you were wandering on your own. What was snow covered terrain in the winter was now grasslands in the spring as you hiked over prairies and rolling fields, slowly approaching the Rockies to the west. At some point, you crossed a few rivers, but honestly, so much of what you traveled had blurred together at this point. It was nighttime, and you laid down to rest, setting up a small camp as always. You slept for only two hours, which wasn’t abnormal for you. But what wasn’t normal for you was to be surrounded by three people on horseback pointing rifles at you when you woke up. Immediately, you put your hands in the air. You could take three people easily if they were on the ground, but on horseback, you were at a major disadvantage.

“Who’re you?” the one in the center asked.

His accent was familiar. You searched for his face, blinking your eyes open in the dark, slowly adjusting to the low light.

“‘M Y/n. Just passing through.”

“You by yourself?” he asked again.

Your eyes widened once they were finally adjusted from the dark.

It was Tommy, Joel’s brother.

You knew him back in the day, before he ran off to join the Fireflies. He was always a bit friendlier than his older brother, despite everything he’d gone through. And he was handsome, though you had always preferred Joel in that regard.

“Tommy?”

Your voice was much more confused than you would’ve liked, but it made him stop in his tracks. He studied your face, searching for something in it until the light turned on.

“Oh, shit, you’re that Y/n! Sorry I didn’t recognize you at first, it’s been a while.”

But his gun was still pointed at you. And you knew why.

“I’m not Infected. You can check me yourselves if you want.”

You rolled up your sleeves and your pantlegs to prove a point, showing off the lack of bites and claw marks on your body.

The person on the right, a woman with dark hair jumped down from her horse. It was at that point that you noticed a dog beside them, growling at you.

“The dog will know if you’re telling the truth,” she said.

You tensed up. Despite knowing that you were clean, the large creature baring its teeth at you was still unnerving. But you allowed him to approach, and soon his growls faded as he nudged you with his nose. You couldn’t help but smile as you scratched his head, the animal giving you some comfort as you looked up at the people who were now getting off of their horses. Tommy offered you his hand and you took it, allowing him to help you off of the ground. The dark haired woman smiled at you, and the other person, a man with light brown hair and glasses looked you over.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/n. It’s been a long time,” said Tommy with a smile.

“It’s good to see you, too. Always enjoyed your company,” you responded honestly.

His smile grew a little wider, but then dropped as he asked you, “What are you doing out here by yourself? Always thought if I saw you again, it would be with Joel and Tess.”

You tensed up, and he noticed.

“Long story. Don’t have time to tell it,” you offered simply, “what about you? Still with those Fireflies?”

He chuckled, “Not exactly. I’ll show you when we get there. You can share my horse.”

Despite not seeing him in many years, you trusted him. So, ignoring the sleep that wanted to retake you, you gathered your few belongings and got on the horse, along with the two others. During the ride, you learned their names were Maria and Allen.

“Maria’s my wife,” Tommy said, beaming with pride, “we’re parents now, can you believe it?”

You smiled at them both, “Congratulations!”

But why would they want a child in a world like this?

As the sun was rising over the Wyoming mountainside, you arrived at your destination. You couldn’t help but gasp out loud at the wooden gates and stare in shock at the beautiful town sprawled out before you.

“Holy shit, Tommy!” is all you could think to say.

Tommy laughed, his eyes crinkling at the sides, “Welcome to Jackson.”

Maria smiled and said, “We’ll find a place to put you up. I’m sure you’re tired since we interrupted your sleep. We can take you on a tour in the morning.”

Suddenly, your exhaustion hit you, your eyes drooping involuntarily as a yawn escaped your lips.

“That sounds great.”

You honestly didn’t even remember falling asleep, but when you woke up to knocking at the front door of your new house, the sun was high in the sky. You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you trudged through your bedroom and the rest of your house to reach the front door.

“Hey, Y/n! Feel a little better?”

Tommy was on your doorstep with a smile.

You nodded, “Still a little sleepy, but much better, thank you.”

“Good,” he said, “you ready for that tour, now?”

“Sure.”

Tommy led you through town, pointing out the important buildings: the stables, the bar, of course, and the clinic, while explaining how things worked in town.

“Oh, and since you’re capable, we’ll probably put you in the patrol rotation as soon as you’re settled in…”

But you weren’t listening anymore. The two of you approached the school, since Tommy thought maybe you could help teach there, and there you saw something you hoped you’d never see again.

Joel.

He was talking to a teenaged girl with brown hair and a bright smile. He was laughing at something she had said, his eyes twinkling with a brightness you had never seen in them before.

Blood rushed to your ears as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t help the way your hands shook as adrenaline rushed through you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to see him again.

“Y/n, you okay?” asked Tommy softly.

Joel’s head whipped around upon hearing your name. It couldn’t really be you, could it? Your hair was too long and tangled, your clothes too torn and dirty, your shoes barely staying on your feet.

But those eyes were unmistakable. They carried so much weight, even more than the last time he saw you. They were filled with fear, anger, sadness, but worst of all, loneliness. And it was his fault.

Joel never stopped blaming himself for what happened. He missed you every day, and no one, not even Tess could pull him from his misery. Ellie filled the Sarah-sized hole in his heart, but there was still a you-sized hole from the past year. And now that you were before him, he was determined to get you back.

“Y/n.”

The soft murmur of your name was enough to shake you of your stupor.

“Joel.”

You said nothing more. What else was there to say?

“Hey, Ellie, you want to come to my place? Maria’s baking cookies,” Tommy asked, giving you both a meaningful look.

“Sure! You’d better come around then, too, Joel!” the girl, Ellie, said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to what was occurring.

“I will, Ellie. You run along now,” Joel replied, smiling softly at the retreating figures of Ellie and his brother.

Then his attention was on you. And quite frankly, you didn’t know what to do.

Joel stepped toward you, closing the gap until you were face to face with the man that had been haunting your dreams for the past year.

“Didn’t expect to see you around here,” he said.

You heard the weight his voice carried. Even if others couldn’t read the stoic man, you could. You knew him too well, even after all of this time.

“Well that makes two of us.”

The bitterness still tinging your voice makes him wince slightly.

“It’s good to see you alive,” he offered, “that you’re okay.”

“No thanks to you.”

The tone was sharp, offered no room for friendliness or forgiveness.

Joel sighed softly, running his fingers through his graying hair, “I know. I’ve thought about it every day.”

That made you pause, the anger simmering below the surface beginning to give way.

“Me too.”

You wouldn’t say that you missed him. That you dreamed about a world where the three of you were still a team. That when you felt really lonely, your fingers would slip below your waistband, still thinking of him. That you often wished desperately that you never left. But you felt like he knew.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

His smile was tight lipped and his eyes swam with the ghosts of your shared past.

“No Tess?”

Her absence was noticeable to you. In the time the three of you had worked together, you didn’t go anywhere without the others.

Joel shook his head, “Dead.”

“Raiders?”

“Infected.”

“Oh,” you gasped, “I’m sorry.”

And you were. Tess was a good friend and a strong ally. Her death was unexpected to you, and you knew Joel had to have been there to see it. You wouldn’t wish that upon your worst enemy.

He looked at the ground, breaking eye contact with you for the first time, “Losing her was hard. I had already lost you, and then I lost her. Just like Sarah.”

Joel was never one to talk about his emotions, but you had broken down that wall during your partnership. And though you didn’t let your guard down to him, here he was using a wrecking ball.

“Joel, I-” this time you ran your fingers through the tangled mess that was your hair, trying to search for something to say.

But he continued, “I know what I did to you was wrong. Shutting you out wasn’t the answer, and I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t. But maybe leaving wasn’t the best answer for me, either.”

That was the first time you had really admitted that to yourself.

“I should’ve talked to you, like this, before making a choice so rash. I’m so-”

“You don’t have to apologize. You did what you had to. You have to do what’s best for you in this world,” Joel interrupted, returning his gaze to you.

You nodded, “Well, maybe this is a chance for us to start fresh. Maybe it was meant to happen.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, “Maybe it was. Let me walk you home.”

And you did, with the feeling that you’d let him do it again and again.

[soulofapatrick]

Home Is Where The Heart Is - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a brutal fight against raiders with Ellie you feel like your bond with her and everyone in town is broken but Joel is there to show you otherwise

Words: 3k

Warnings; blood; injury

Notes: Platonic Ellie x reader too. I need more of this Joel; long salt and pepper hair and scruff cuz fuuuuckkk me man he looks fine af 

Y/N’s POV

People stop and stare as we make our way back into town, Ellie’s sat upon Indiana with the two kids, trotting behind us. One is cradled in her arms being only four and the other is behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She’s wild eyed and clinging to the four year old like a lifeline while I have the mother stumbling beside me, arm over my shoulder as I take most of her weight and Indiana’s reins are wrapped around my left arm so Ellie can keep the kids safe. We’re covered in blood, me the most as I may have gone on a killing rampage after finding the kids locked up in those cages. 

Tommy and Maria are rushing towards us, the gates slamming shut behind Indiana and causing the kids to cry out in fear, my heart breaking even more. Others are joining us, Jesse escorting the mother towards the makeshift hospital Jackson has with a promise her kids will be safe and reunited with her shortly but she needed medical care first. The reins are being taken from me and I’m stepping towards Ellie who is standing by Tommy, the kid still cradled in her arms, and she takes a step back. My world comes crashing down right then and there, the look of fear in her clover eyes when she sees me moving towards her, it draws a lump in my throat and I’m digging my nails into my palms to keep myself calm. Dina’s putting a hand on my arm, being one of the only people to know about my past and why I was so triggered by the raiders keeping this family hostage. 

I’m throwing a glance back at Ellie when Dina begins leading me away, watching how Tommy and Maria are tending to her and the kids until they disappear around a corner. Dina’s firm hand in mine being the only thing grounding me from breaking down right then and there in the snow as I don’t know if I want to cry or scream or both. I’m angry and I’m hurt and I’m not good with emotions so all I can do is focus on her tight grip on my hand as she leads me home. 

“N-no, Dina we can’t… Ellie-“ My voice cracks at Ellie’s name. She won’t want me being in the same house as her anymore. The look in her eyes said it all back there and I know… she won’t ever look at me the same way again let alone look at me.

“We need to wash the blood away and I’m sure Joel will want to know.” She steels me with a stern look as I pull against her hand, digging in my heels but somehow she’s overpowering me and pulling me up the porch steps. She doesn’t hesitate to dive a hand into my pockets and pull out my keys so she can let us in. Joel’s jumping up when he sees me covered in still drying blood, mouth open in protest but silenced by Dina holding a hand up to him before she turns back to me, “Shoes off and go run yourself a shower. Now.” 

I don’t argue, toeing off my boots and heading for the stairs, keeping my eyes down and shaking off Joel’s hand that reaches out to touch my shoulder lightly. The soft sound of emotional hurt he makes is another stab in my gut but this time they’ve twisted the knife and the floodgates of blood and tears all at once. I’m trying to hold in the sob as I sprint up the stairs, hearing the quiet mumbles of Joel and Dina and wanting to drown them out. My heart is pounding in my ears and I’m struggling to breathe, stumbling into the bathroom door before slipping to my knees inside. I’m having a panic attack and I try so hard to remember the tricks Tommy taught me, pressing the flat of my palms to the freezing porcelain, focusing on the contrast of temperature against my burning skin. Hands touch my shoulders and I’m spinning around, pinning them down until I realise it’s Dina. She doesn’t flinch and there’s no fear or hatred in her gaze and I’m falling, my cheek pressing to the cold floor as she watches. She leans over and brushes a strand of my blood-matted hair off my forehead and I’m squeezing my eyes shut to try and stop crying but it doesn’t work. 

Dina’s pulling herself to her feet and I wait to hear the bathroom door open and close but instead the sound of the shower being turned on reaches my ears and the heavy pounding of the water against the bottom of the bath seems to blur out any possibility of thoughts. The comforting sound of the water mixed with the cool tiles calms my heart rate enough to drag myself into a sitting position, eyes sliding open to see Dina watching me from where she’s sat atop the counter, waiting me patiently to come around. Her smile is soft, her curls more prominent in the steam the hot shower is producing and I want to cry again but I can’t. It’s not the time. 

“Ellie’s scared of me.” I croak, voice sounding wrecked and Dina’s gaze soften as she gently shakes her head, watching me pull myself to my feet, legs shaking from exhaustion. My hands tremble as I struggle with the buttons on my shirt until familiar hands are slapping mine away and deft fingers make quick work of it, helping me slide it off and it goes straight in the bin. I manage to kick my jeans off and Dina turns away so I slip out of my underwear and into the welcoming warmth of the shower. It draws a sound from my lips as my muscles begin to ache and the open wounds that adorn my skin let themselves knows. All I can focus my attention on is the way the water runs red, not stopping or fading back to clear until Dina’s sighing and she surprises me by stepping into the shower with me but fully dressed. 

I should be yelling at her, asking what the fuck she’s doing but I can’t muster the energy to. Jesse; Dina and I have a pretty chill friendship and we’ve had to look after each other after particularly tough patrols or raiders getting into Jackson. Jesse had to help Dina snap out of her shock one time after her first kill of a raider and the three of us just sat in the bathroom, Jesse cleaning the blood and mud from Dina while I had my back to the door. It was the first time I had truly felt comfortable around people and I trusted them with my life, loving to see how happy Jesse and Dian were together. I hope Jesse doesn’t kill me for this, I’m the one who’s naked not Dina but it still feels strangely intimate. Dina’s definitely pretty but I’m not one to swing that way, especially with the weird bond thing Joel and I have. 

“Joel?” I ask as Dina massages the shampoo into my scalp the water running even redder than before and my eyes are slamming shut because Ellie’s right. I am a monster. 

“He’s gone to talk to Tommy,” She coos soothingly before speaking up again, a smirk in her voice as she washes the shampoo out and moves onto the conditioner, “What was he doing waiting in your house anyway, with a key by the looks of it.” 

“I…” I have to actually pause as I’m not sure why Joel was waiting for me here. I usually come back from patrol, shower then head down the road to his for dinner, “I don’t know.” 

“Well, he was so worried, thought you were hurt,” She grinning, I can feel it without turning around, shivering when she rinses the conditioner out and runs her fingers through my hair to tease out any more knots clinging together. It hurts but I don’t even wince as I deserve it after what I did today, “Joel was ready to shove me aside and come up but I didn’t think you’d want him seeing you so vulnerable just yet.” 

The shower is turned off and Dina’s stepping out, leaving the room dripping wet head to toe before a towel is flung through a crack into door and I hear her race to the spare room as both her and Jesse keep spare clothes in mine. The privacy giving me time to dry myself and pad to my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click as Dina’s footsteps can be heard on the steps before the familiar sound of the kettle boiling is following. 

“I’m staring at myself in the cracked mirror an ache in my chest as the person I once knew is not the person staring back at me. Instead, it’s someone with bags under her eyes and a heavy weight of the past crushing them, leaving their mouth constantly turned downwards, eyes dull and eyebrows always in a scowl, no brightness or warmth to any part of them. Staring back is a shell of the person you once used to be, learning to slowly adapt and love again within the safe confines of Jackson. The walls may keep me safe but seeing others, like the mother and sons in pain and danger, makes me feel selfish for trying to be happy and build a life when they’re getting tortured and killed everyday. The scar across my cheek reminds me that I was once the person chained up and tortured for information I didn’t have and I was the one being saved by Tommy like I did that family. Maybe… Just maybe there is a possibility I deserve love and-

The opening and closing of the front door has me shaking my head, grabbing the first clothes I find in my drawers and haphazardly pulling them on: it’s a pair of grey baggy sweatpants and a somewhat matching sweatshirt in a deep blue colour. I’m drawing my damp hair up into a ponytail and before I can even open the door to head downstairs and find out why Dina left my bedroom door is being pushed open. Crowding the doorway is an almost shy looking Joel, salt and pepper hair shining in the sunset pouring through my window, beard finally having joined his hair in colour over the last year, tanned skin warm and glowing and a light pink dusting his cheeks. He’s still got his brown winter jacket on and that worn baby blue scarf tucked into it and if I weren’t so worried about Ellie hating me and the family I brought in I’d be on my knees for him already. I haven’t got much resolve after today and the things this man and his large hands do to me is almost embarrassing. He’s holding a steaming mug of what smells like coffee and the mug looks tiny wrapped in his hand.

“I-I thought you might like some company?” Joel’s stuttering and blushing and I’m just nodding, moving to my bed and he follows, setting the cup on my bedside table. He’s moving back to close the bedroom door, shrugging off that jacket and scarf to put them across my desk chair before finally sitting on the edge of my bed. I don’t think twice about pulling him down so he’s laying on his back and slotting myself under his left arm, laying my head on his chest over his heart so I can feel it beating comfortingly against my ear, “I’ve got you.” He coos, fingers gently pulling the hair tie from my hair so he can card his fingers through it and my eyes are fluttering shut when his blunt nails massage my scalp. 

“Ellie hates me now, doesn’t she?” My voice shakes and I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to see his expression as he continues to soothe my hair and scalp. 

“She doesn’t hate you, she just needs some time to process. She’s never seen you…” He trails off, chest rumbling when I push a hand under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach rise and fall with every breath. He may not have a six pack but he is in no way unfit, his pecs well defined and if you run your hands over his chest you can feel the beginnings of six packs but he’s perfect the way he is: equal parts buff and soft. 

I’m gasping softly when the rough pads of his fingers ghost over my cheek, drawing me up to meet his gaze, honey eyes soft and warm as they search my face. Gentle fingers traces the scar down my cheek, nothing on his face but warmth and… love? It’s almost overwhelming and I’m letting my eyes slide shut, leaving into his warm palm that is now gripping my jaw, parting my lips when his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. His name tumbles from my lips in a broken whine and it’s as if the world is answering my prayers when plump lips meet mine in a soft kiss. My hands find the thick scruff of his beard, dragging my nails lightly through it and eliciting an addictive sound that I swallow. Moving my hands to tangle in his hair and pull lightly, deepening the kiss and opening my mouth for his searching tongue. Joel surrounds me in every way, his scent intoxicating, lips tasting of coffee as if he’d stolen a sip or two on his way up the stairs and his kisses leaving me dizzy with wanting more. 

He’s pulling back too soon, stopping my lips from chasing his like I want to and honey eyes darker as he whispers out, “Y/N stop, I…” He takes a deep breath, hand cupping my cheek and thumb rubbing my cheekbone, “I want this, you don’t know how crazy I am for you but you’ve just been through something big… I want to know your feelings back are real and not just… not just adrenaline.” 

“Stay the night?” I rush out, chest heaving with nerves and his eyes search my face again before he’s nodding and rearranging us so he’s spooning me. His left arm is under my neck, tucking it under my pillows so I can use both as a pillow and his right is resting on my hip but it’s not enough. I’m intertwining our fingers, pulling them to my lips to kiss his knuckles before letting our interlocked hands settle over my heart, a small smile on my lips when he presses a kiss to my neck and begins to whisper soothingly until my eyes are growing heavy. 

*

Rolling onto my back, stretching, I’m greeted by Joel watching me with a soft look in his eyes, propped up on his elbow and fingers moving to brush my hair out of my face as he speaks quietly, as if trying to not ruin the moment, “Hey there baby girl.” 

“Hey Joel,” I whisper back, raising myself to lean on my elbows, our lips a hair’s breadth away and his breath fanning over my face as I say the three words he wants to hear, “I meant it.” His lips are meeting mine in a gentle kiss, beard scraping against my chin and cheek but I would gladly suffer all the beard burn in the world to have him kissing me the way he is. He’s laying me back down and slotting himself over me, our bodies fitting together like a prefect jigsaw puzzle and the strangely comforting mix of burnt coffee, a woodsy musk I know is his cologne and something citrusy sweet has me reeling. I’m tugging at Joel’s bedhead, loving the longer look he has adopted over the last few months and my breath is being stolen with every push and pull of those tantalising lips. 

“Y/N!” The door flies open and Joel’s rolling to sit next to me as we jump apart, Ellie standing in the doorway. Her mouth is hung open as her clover eyes flit between me and Joel, my heart pounding so loud I think they both can hear it as Joel’s placing a calming hand over mine. Ellie’s face twists and soon enough she’s beaming as she yells, “FUCK YEAH I GET TO CALL Y/N MUM!”

Mum?

“You don’t hate me?” I ask quietly as she sits on the bottom of the bed, legs crossed and facing us. Guilt fills those bright eyes but she’s shaking her head and I’m yanking her into a hug that I really need. She laughs sweetly, throwing her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in the crook of my neck. 

“I could never hate you Mom. You mean too much to me, you were protecting us,” She pulls back, hand holding one of mine, “I was pretty badass the way you shot down every single one.” 

“I love you.” I whisper, glancing between her and Joel and they both smile. Before I can ask they’re both tackling me into a hug and I just relinquish any fight I was going to put up as this is what I want. Ellie’s curled up in my arms between me and Joel as he looks at me with one emotion I never thought I’d get from him: Love. 

It fills my chest with pride and I’m reaching out for Joel over Ellie’s now passed out form and he’s meeting me halfway, interlocking our fingers and pressing a kiss to my forehead over Ellie. This is really happening. I have to blink a few time in shock as yeah, Ellie is asleep between me and Joel and there’s a new found sense of place and belonging filling every corner of this house. Maybe things will be okay. They work out in the end. 

Always. 

-------------

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[abbysthighs]

This scene is so much more emotional in the Remake. Joel really is a good dad.

[lionlena]

Aaaaah… I can't stop looking at this photo and I want to make another Joel AI bot….

Joel and you on your honeymoon traveling through Europe!!!💖🥰💖

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Hi Arien! Surprise self-rec time!🌷Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💖

(if you've already gotten this from someone else, just link the post you answer in so I can check it out, please 🙏🏼)

(P.S. I think you and I share similar feelings about choosing favorites so feel free to substitute that with "3 fics you've written that have been on your mind lately)

Thank you for giving me an out, haha. I can't dabble playing favourites! 💕

The Knight of Cups

Set during selected important moments in Drifter's Dawn but through Tommy's eyes: mainly during the years Tess, Tommy and Joel travelled together in the early days of the apocalypse. I had so much fun with this - stepping out of Tess's POV, exploring stuff from a new (and maybe sometimes more honest, or unobstructed) perspective, and adding new scenes with details Tess wasn't privy to. It was my first time writing Tommy.

Spite

Tess and Joel learned to walk in Indianapolis so they could run in Boston. These are their Hunter/Raider years where they struggled most as a couple but began to really see each other, and forged the bond we later know. I still wish more of this had been in Dawn because it's so important, but I can't just add it in because of the POV changes. Anyway I am proud of the structure of this one and what it accomplished in a limited number of words.

Cordyceps: A Visual History

I hadn't written crackfic in about two decades and this came out of nowhere. A film crew documents life in Lincoln when two smugglers visit. Frank is a natural. His guests? Not so much. It's dumb, but I am proud of this one because it's just something different, silly and out of the box.

[visionsofyouandme]

Okay y’all…

What one would you rather read? (I have part of one already written and the other is just an idea buuuut 👀)

(Obviously I have an obsession right now. Let me bite that man or let him bite me like… lord have mercy 🙏🏻)