#sarah grey gif pack

[rorygifs]

PUBLIC COMMISSION!  —  sarah grey in the order (s2) // by clicking on the source link you will find #415 gifs. all of the gifs were made by me, so do not claim them as your own or edit in any way without my permission. please, like or reblog if you find them helpful or use them.

content/trigger warnings: alcohol, kissing, flashing light, crying, eating, weapon

[pedgito]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 — three: silence | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

chapter summary | Tommy's kindness forces Joel to make a choice.

author's note | unebeta'd and three months overdue. i'm slowly trying to catch up on these unfinished series as i'm filled to the brim with ideas rn, so updates may be slower but GOD, i missed these two.

chapter warnings | 18+ mdni, early outbreak, age gap (early 20s, mid 30s), morally grey!joel with trust issues, mean!joel, abandonment issues, mentions of m*rder, somnophilia (with enthusiastic consent), pussy pronouns, needy!joel who is too stubborn to ask, unprotected piv (prone bone ftw)

word count —3.1k

SERIES MASTERLIST, PLAYLIST, AO3

Joel is unsettled, brimming with anger as he rips into the room you had both fallen asleep in, hours later and the sound of Tommy’s trailing voice echoed, similarly frustrated.

You startle, pulled from your sleep as you glare at him, rubbing at your eyes as he reaches for his pack tossed away in the corner, stuffing away a few items in tense silence. You can hear Tommy in the other room, a low but normal tone as he sounded like he was talking to himself until a few more voices filtered through, pulling your attention up and at Joel, fully awake now.

“Who’s out there?” You pull the sheet back, finding yourself far more dressed than how you fell asleep. Joel doesn’t shy away from your questioning eyes, but you don’t need to ask. 

It was freezing, the bite of cold wind kissing your skin. He managed to change you in your sleep, undisturbed as the exhaustion in your body had taken hold, a kind gesture for a man who refused to show it when you were awake.

“People,” He answers simply, like a bitter taste on his tongue, “Went out for supplies and he brought back a fuckin’ group. Family, little kids. A couple of strangers, too.”

“What about the food? Water?” You’re moving now, pressing your sock-covered feet into the hardwood as you stand, “Joel, what are you doing?”

“Yeah—he’s got some,” Joel retorts, “but how long do you think that will last between nine people? I’ll answer that for you—not very fuckin’ long.”

The door had drifted closed with the pressure of the air drifting through the house, poor insulation and a shitty, tattered roof. He’s beating at the poor backpack as he stuffed it until the stitching could rip, zipping it closed roughly.

 Second question ignored, you reach for his shoulder.

It was a brave action, suspecting that he wasn’t feeling very generous with touch this morning.

He turns on you quick, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” He bites, “you wanted this—you’re his responsibility, not mine. He ain’t thinkin’ about you, or me or himself. I’m not stickin’ around.”

As your mouth opens, Tommy forces the door open, a glimpse of the showdown between you both as your heads whip toward him, looking more frustrated than you’ve ever known Tommy to be.

“They’re lookin’ for ‘em, too,” Tommy begins calmly, though there is a torseness to his voice, “those Fireflies we’ve been hearing about—and Joel, we scoped out a house on the lake about an hour from here, empty—full of fuckin’ food, untouched. It’s a goddamn gold mine.”

“That,” Joel retorts behind clenched, pointing his finger toward the doorway, “is a death wish. We were doin’ just fine. Me, you—her,” Their eyes drag over you briefly, “there ain’t no damn cure for any of this.”

“Just ‘cause you lost hope doesn’t mean the rest of us have to,” Tommy argues, “Sarah was shot—not bit, you won’t even allow it to be a possibility, will you? You’re just done? Resigned to dying because you’re so goddamn stubborn?”

Joel chuckles darkly, slinging the backpack over his shoulder, “I’m leavin’,” He eventually admits, a long dragging silence falling over the three of you, “and you’re stayin’,” He adds in aim at you, your eyes widening at his revelation, looking over at Tommy with a worried expression as Joel approaches him, looking down on his brother, “if she dies ‘cause of your choices, that’s on you. Not me.”

“Joel, you don’t have to do all this,” Tommy trails after him, your slow, creeping footsteps following close behind, ignorant to the group of people standing in the old living room, “there’s groups out there, big ones—we need numbers, it isn’t just infected we have to worry about.”

The screen door slams behind Joel as Tommy relents, a hand gripping his hip as he runs his palm over his face, defeated. He looks at you with a silent resignation—like you could pull off some kind of miracle, that maybe the time you’ve spent with them wasn’t completely useless.

That your odd, magnetic connection to Joel wasn’t for nothing.

–

He’s reaching for a spare pair of boots out of the back of the truck when he hears the snap of the screen door, looking behind him with a shake of his head, amusement as he ties the laces to the strap of his pack.

“Why are you doing this?”

“He’s got too much heart,” Joel admits, “shit’ll get him killed.”

“He’s your brother, Joel,” You snip at him, “where’s your heart?”

“Go back inside,” He tells you, tugging the lace with finality, “I don’t need you lecturin’ me.”

You cross your arm, heels dug into the mud and unmoving.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, you know that?”

“And you’re being irrational,” You jeer, “you’ll get yourself killed on your own.”

“No—you see the difference between me and the rest of them,” Joel leans in, a few steps toward you as he crowds around you, “I kill and take what I need, this world isn’t forgiving to generosity and my brother has too much of that shit.”

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” He sneers, “You’re clueless. Wouldn’t survive a day on your own. I’m not taking you with me so you can drag ass behind and get me killed.”

Joel doesn’t entirely believe himself, knowing you had some of that ferocity simmering within you. It was a similar fire he carried in himself, like a spark waiting to be ignited. But, he also couldn’t forgive himself if you ended up dead, leaving the responsibility to his brother was the easier option.

And maybe he needed a few days—distance and time to clear his head. 

He wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that he couldn’t be here. Not now.

Your eyes soften, pleading but quiet.

He realizes his mistake then—the attachment he’d allowed to form. Guilty of it himself, in his own way. But, the damage was already done and he wasn’t sure he wanted to suffer through the aftermath. 

-

They aren’t sketchy people—Tommy had properly vetted them, as well as he could, at least. One of them was a doctor, the other a nurse—the other two adults: a teacher and a mechanic. All different walks of life. The kids were just as innocent, seven and nine, wide-eyed and terrified. 

You do make it to the lake house after a few days. Tommy waits, hopes that Joel might change his mind and come back, but he doesn’t. By the fourth day he decides to pack up, but leaves a note behind on dirtied paper, using the thick ash to leave a message to Joel—coded, careful, a language that only he and Joel would truly understand in the odd chance someone happened upon the note first. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but still, he was holding on.

It was the most luxurious digs you’ve had since the world fell, relatively clean bedding in separate rooms, bathrooms, two stories and a lake full of fish, the cupboards stocked with canned goods and water—it was a vacation house, but it breathed the essence of someone who has tried to prepare for situations like this. 

You weren’t sure why someone would leave a place like this uninhabited—maybe they were dead, maybe they weren’t. Either way, it didn’t matter. Whatever was theirs was now yours.

The most unbelievable of all was the hot water, the gas heater still holding strong amongst the unraveling apocalypse, showering away weeks and weeks of built up grime, it was almost too good to be true.

Everyone took turns keeping watch, though Tommy often found an excuse to man the front in the hope that Joel might wander down the path leading from the road, secluding the house by a casual passerby—it was eerily quiet here, unsettlingly so.

You weren’t sure where Joel could have gone, hoping that he was fairing alright despite how eager he was to flee, wondering how many people he'd slaughtered in his path, curious if he was already dead—it was abysmal, but an unfortunate reality.

Everyone except for Tommy was already tucked away the night the unexpected visitor came, the faint click of a door being opened and closed, hushed voices that melded with one another, similar vibrato and emotion, diluted by the rain.

The last couple of weeks were spent fortifying the house, riddling your body with exhaustion as you settle into your bed that night, blanket tucked up around your neck as you hear a pair of footsteps approach and slowly separate, followed by the sound of a shower turning on and shuffling on the other side of the wall.

You knew there was a spare room, one Tommy had purposely made up and left empty in the hope Joel would return—the movements in the bathroom are heavy but slow, eventually dying out, along with your ability to stay awake. But, your suspicions are confirmed as the door creaks open faintly behind you and the weight of the bed dips—the smell of fresh soap and something so inherently Joel invading your senses. 

He expects you to tense at his touch, fully prepared to flee. But, you don’t. Instead, you’re turning to face him, quickly shushed by his lips as his hand presses against your shoulder and turns you back around, “S’alright, sleep,” He assures you, “I’m right here.”

“You’re back,” You murmur softly, “Changed your mind?”

“Ain’t that simple,” Joel responds quietly, his hands traveling over your hip slowly until it curled around your stomach, pulling you back toward him, his nose nudging against the back of your ear as he huffs, breath hot against your skin, “go on, get some sleep.”

He’s restless, though, his leg slipping between your own as they tangled together. He’s shirtless, you realize, your shirt raised by his wandering hands and the soft glide of his fingertips, re-familiarizing himself with the shape and curve of your body.

He couldn’t describe what he was feeling—not yearning or want, but a persistent need, his body craving a taste of you, his cock hardening at the thought of slipping inside you, fucking you into the mattress and molding back into a normalcy come morning. 

He’s like a furnace, the heat of his body radiating against you under the cover of sheets and blankets. It was soothing, lulling—but his fingers itched, squeezing every now and then as he subconsciously rutted himself against your ass as he attempted to settle, his other arm tucked up under his head.

“Take it,” You murmur through a thick blanket of grogginess, “ f’swhat you need.”

It was full, unrestrained permission to use you as he pleased, a simple means for release.

“S’not right,” Joel replies.

Your hand curls around his and pulls in around your body and toward your stomach, fingertips toying with the thin band of your panties until you slip them underneath and settle his hand there—it was guidance, encouragement. Hell, a plea.

“When’ve you ever cared ‘bout what’s right?” You retort.

There’s a weak grunt in response, a non-answer

As he finally defeats the battle within himself and slips his middle finger down the seam of your cunt, wet and sticky warmth coating his finger as you sigh softly, it makes it easier to relax. You find yourself teetering the edge of awakeness and asleep dangerously, his finger moving slowly at first, a gentle pressure that eases you into drifting off. Then two fingers, like a lullaby, you weren’t sure how long you had fallen asleep before Joel is pressed tight against your back for a better angle, thick fingers teasing your hole as he runs them from your clit and back down, eventually pushing inside at your intake of breath, a stuttering gasp released from your lips as you grip the pillowcase beneath your head.

“M’gonna fuck you,” Joel tells you, “that alright?”

No definitive response, but Joel takes your closed eyes and parted lips as an indication and the echoing words in his head—Take it.

He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until he’s sliding the soft cotton of your pants down your hips, low enough that he can use his foot to force it off the rest of the way, gently guiding you onto your stomach with little resistance on your end, both arms splayed out beside your head on the pillow as you breathe quietly, eyes attempting to flutter open but losing the battle.

Joel shuffles, removing his own pants as he settles over you, your legs tucked between his as he fists his cock, using the minimal glow of the moonlight peeking through the bedroom window to guide himself inside of you, pussy glistening as he pushes the head through your folds, a slow rock of his hips as you hum in your sleep, turning your head to the opposite side, his cock pressing inside of you slow, tantalizingly so. 

“S’like she remembers me,” He comments, entirely to himself with a sated smirk on his expression, “squeezin’ me just right.”

He groans as he angles and cocks his hips, full sheathed inside of you with his arms bracketing your own, sandwiched between him in the mattress as his deep, rumbling groans reverberate at your ear, balancing so perfectly in the state of unbotheredness as he keeps a lazy, relaxed pace.

“Better like this,” He says quietly, a hint of amusement in his tone, “ain’t gotta listen to your smart ass remarks,” An even quieter laugh slipping past your lips as if you’re subconscious heard it too, brow drawing together like being pulled on a string as Joel changes the angle of his thrusts, slightly raised on his knees as his palms press into the pillow, pistoning his hips at a quicker but careful pace, aware of your lack of solitary here.

“She missed me, huh?” Not you—your pussy, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as he grinds into you, the heavy weight of him against your back, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear, “Know she did—fuck—fuckin’ know it.”

Moans fall from your lips instinctively, face pressing into the pillow with his growing urgency, open mouth groans turning into grunts through gritted teeth, his hand rising from the pillow to grip and wrap around your hair, pulling it up and away as he leans down to mouth at your neck, hot and peckish huffs of air as he feels his own orgasm pull in his stomach, the heat rising from his chest to his face as the tug of your hair pulls you back to sudden awakeness, slightly embarrassed by how much your body was enjoying itself, the slick sounds of his cock from behind as he came with a low moan, pulling out with just enough time to grip himself as he released thick ropes of come against your back, shirt pushed up as the sheets fall from his body, dragging his hand down his shaft and to the head as he squeezed, shuttering through the descent of his climax, a tired laugh slipping past your lips as he sags, falling onto his side on the bed.

He settles for a moment, attempting to catch his breath before he redresses silently, climbing off the creaking bed without a word—you couldn’t even be upset, knowing if all he wanted was a warm body to sink his dick into, you had given him that and willingly. The house was quieter at this hour, the faint thump of Joel’s footsteps dissipating as you begin to laugh at the absurdity of everything through a sleepy haze—the outbreak, the pure luck of finding this house uninhabited, and Joel. 

He was once an image, someone you constantly viewed from a distance, dangerous curiosity but nothing you would ever act on, feeble crushes as a teen now fully blossomed into desire. 

“What’re you gigglin’ about?” Joel asks, returning with a thin rag he’d found stowed away in the bathroom closet, your heart skipping slightly at his voice, unexpecting of his return. There wasn’t an edge to his voice, the usual jab aimed and ready to go, he seemed genuinely curious.

The aftercare is quiet, ignoring his question as he wipes away his come, far too intimate for the both of you as you quickly adjust your pants back up your hips and settle underneath the sheets, “You didn’t answer me,” Joel pesters, watching with a quizzical expression.

You shake your head slightly, feigning ignorance as you settle and wait for him to flee.

Instead, you turn to the one tactic you know best, prying.

“What happened?”

He knows what you mean—the time spent away.

“Nothin’ worth mentionin’,” He deflects, scratching at his overgrown facial hair.

Sure, you think. You blink tiredly and look away from him, turning on your side to face in the opposite direction as he tosses the rag to the floor, interrupted by the quiet sound of your voice.

“Are you staying or leaving?”

To what degree you were referring, Joel wasn’t sure.

“You want me to stay?” 

“Well, I don’t want you to leave,” You admit.

Joel chuckles at your flippant tone, a welcome reprieve from the unspoken tension.

He climbs into bed slowly, mirroring his earlier position but with you facing him now, eyes closed as he tucks his arm under his head and curls his unoccupied hand around the bicep pressed against the pillow.

“How many?” 

As if Joel could read your mind, he sighs.

“One,” He professes, “Snuck up on me while I was sleepin’, found a mom’ n pop shop some way west—he got my knife, killed ‘em with my hands.”

Like a confessional, you take information and stow it away. One more demon to lock away, another secret to keep, he breathes out through his nose slowly, waiting for a remark that never comes. 

“Don’t leave again,” You say faintly, “not for me—for Tommy, he’s barely slept. Won’t let any of us take watch because he’s been waiting, hoping for you to show up.”

“I got his note.”

So, he did go back.

“He’s got too much hope,” Joel adds, “Always been like that, findin’ the good in people when there wasn’t any, always fuckin’ himself over in the long run.”

“He needs you, Joel,” —I need you. 

You wouldn’t admit that, not even on a dying breath. You look up at him, a nervous glance at him that you hadn’t taken nearly the entire night, the anxious squeeze of your chest. 

You did miss him, you could admit that to yourself. 

He looks boyish like this, youthfulness amongst the damning events whirling around you, no scowl present, face relaxed, plush lips pulled together as he swipes his tongue over them, staring down at you through a tired, half-lidded gaze. 

“I’m stayin’,” He promises. But, only time would tell.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

JJ maybank 14 pls thank youuu ‘‘I love you and no one can change that.’‘ Maybe his dad comes home and shit go down?

Slowly going through all of my old drafts. I don't remember writing some of them...

Warnings: violence, abuse

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

A massive downpour decided to hit the island while you and JJ were out. You took shelter under a bus stop, but the sky was showing no signs of the rain stopping soon, forcing you to brave the rain to find a better shelter for the coming hours.

You suggested going to the chateau, but John B. had made it clear that he was spending the day with Sarah and wanted no interruptions. So, reluctantly, JJ took your hand and showed the way to his house.

He was nervous about inviting you over. For starters, his house was a complete dump. There was trash and empty beer cans everywhere, the carpets had not been vacuumed in years, the things his dad broke during his last drunken brawl were still on the floor and his dirty — and clean — clothes were all over his bedroom.

And secondly, JJ was worried about his dad being there. He didn’t want you to meet him — ever. But according to the time on his phone, Luke should be at work until late, so it should be safe.

By the time you got to JJ's house, your clothes and hair quickly got drenched. JJ quickly unlocked the fetched towels to dry off. While you waited, you took in the living room, a distinct smell of dampness lingering in the air mixed with the faint odor of alcohol. The furniture was old and worn-out, with stains and cigarette burns marking its surface.

‘’Sorry about the mess," he apologized, glancing around the room and rubbing the back of his head. ‘’Ehh, here.’’ JJ handed you the towels. They were mismatched and had stains on them, but you didn't comment on it. ‘’I’ll get you some dry clothes. You can change in the bathroom.’’ He pointed to the bathroom door at the end of the hallway, and disappeared inside the door right next to it — seemingly his bedroom.

You followed him.

The walls were decorated with surf posters and one of a very lightly dressed woman. You turned your head away from her, trying not to think of many times JJ must’ve jerked off to her. On the opposite wall, JJ was searching through a dresser with opened drawers and clothes spilling out, looking for something clean to give you.

He sniffed a brown-ish tee shirt and put it back down, making you bite back a laugh. ‘’Definitely not that one.’’

‘’I can just wear that hoodie,’’ you said, picking the gray Kildare surfboard hoodie rumpled on his bed. You had worn it a few times at cookouts when the evening air would raise chills on your skin. ‘’You don’t have to go through all of your clothes.’’

JJ shook his head. As much as he would love the sight of you walking around his house in only his hoodie, he didn’t trust himself to not pop a boner. He settled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.

You thanked him and took the clothes to the bathroom to change. The herbal smell of weed lingered on them, which was very JJ.

At your return, the sound of rain hitting the windows had intensified, creating a soothing rhythm that filled the room. JJ had changed out of his wet clothes too, now sporting camo shorts and the grey hoodie that was on his bed. His hair was tousled from being roughly towel-dried, and you couldn’t help yourself, reaching to fix some pieces. He smiled at your touch.

‘’Thanks again for the clothes,’’ you said just as the front door opened and slammed shut, causing JJ’s smile to fall abruptly.

‘’Shit. I think that’s my dad.’’

He knew it was his dad. Who else would walk in and slam the door shut? Why was he home so early?

You heard the sound of a beer sex-pack being put down and JJ tensed, panic filling his blue eyes. ‘’JJ? You home, son?’’ the man called through the house, followed by some grumbling as he cracked a beer open.

‘’Stay here,’’ JJ said quietly, not wanting his dad to hear him talk to somebody.

‘’JJ—’’

He took your shoulders and looked you in the eyes, genuine fear and worry in his. ‘’Promise me you’ll stay here.’’

You nodded in response, sensing the urgency in his voice and the seriousness of the situation. It was evident that JJ was trying to protect you from his dad, and you respected his decision to handle the situation on his own.

He moved away from you, making his way towards the door with cautious steps. He didn’t want to go, but he had to. If he didn’t, Luke might come here and see you and JJ didn’t want to think about the inappropriate things that would come out of his filthy mouth.

You sat on JJ’s bed, hands in your lap as you waited for him to return.

In the living room, you could hear the voices of JJ and his dad. You couldn't make out what they were saying because of the shut door, but the latter’s voice quickly went up in volume. Then, the loud sound of glass shattering erupted from the living room, making your head snap in the direction of the door.

By reflex, you stood and went to the door, worry settling in your guts. Your hand was on the doorknob, but you remembered your promise and stepped back. JJ could handle his drunk dad, right?

Luke’s yells echoed in the house again, followed by a loud thud, and that’s when you decided to take a risk and come out.

You were quiet as you peaked down the hallway, not wishing to catch the older man’s attention. A quiet gasp caught in your throat when seeing JJ pinned up against the wall, Luke’s fist gripping the front of JJ’s hoodie as he continued to yell at him with violence in his words. On the floor beside them, one of the old liquor bottles was in pieces, having fallen and shattered in the commotion.

The floor creaked beneath your feet and you quickly ducked back in JJ’s bedroom. The noise had Luke glancing down the hallway, drawing his eyebrows together when seeing no one. Old houses creak for no reason sometimes, right?

When he turned his head back to his son, JJ headbutted him and managed to push his dad off him before running off to his bedroom. He shut the door so fast it echoed through the house and made the wall rattle. You jumped at the sound and stepped back when you heard Luke come after JJ, banging on his door and causing your heart to race behind your chest. 

When the banging stopped, JJ released a shaky breath and slid down to his floor with his knees pulled to his chest. He cursed repeatedly, pushing his head into his hands.

‘’I should’ve never brought you here.’’

The guilt in his voice made your heart sink. Carefully, you approached JJ and sat down beside him. 

‘’You can leave if you want. There’s a way out through the window. I’m not gonna be mad if you—’’

‘’I’m not leaving,’’ you told him firmly.

JJ slowly lifted his head, a frown appearing on his features. ‘’You should. I would leave my life if I could.’’ He forced a laugh, but all you heard was pain.

You didn't know how long his father's abuse had been going on, but it must've been a while. The thought of someone treating their child so horribly made your heart ache. Now you understand why he was always spending the night at the chateau and why no one ever come to his house. 

You shifted and gently reached for JJ's face, making him look at you. ‘’I’m not leaving,’’ you repeated. ‘’Not today, not tomorrow.’’

He turned his head away and pushed your hand off him, hiding his emotions from you. ‘’You say this now, but you'll get tired of me and my shit.’’

‘’I'm not. I meant it, J. I love you and no one can change that. Not even your shitty home-life.’’ 

—

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[imaginesandbandfiction]

Bejeweled — JJ Maybank

An Outer Banks Imagine

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: After mourning the end of a two-and-a-half-year relationship, you're finally ready to get back out there. You get more than you bargained for with some guy.

Warnings: Underage drinking, brief mention of cheating

A/N: I started this wayyyy back in the fall when Midnights was first released and have just now gotten around to finishing it. I hope you like this silly little Taylor Swift-inspired fic!

Masterlist

You pat silver glitter on your eyelids, careful to keep it contained to below your crease, but it seems like your best friend doesn’t care about that because she jumps off of your bed and launches herself forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and squealing. The force of her hug makes you wobble, almost falling out of your chair. 

“Sarah!” You shriek, “You’re going to make me mess it up!”

“Sorry! I’m just so excited that you’re finally coming out again,” she gushes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before loosening her grip so she’s just standing behind you with her arms on your shoulders, looking at you through your reflections in your vanity mirror. “We should do a shot before we go.”

“I’ve got a bottle of Grey Goose under my bed. Just let me finish this quick.” You shove her off in the direction of your bed and wrap up your makeup with some lip gloss and a spritz of setting spray. When you turn around, Sarah has a solo cup in each hand and when you take yours, you see she’s poured double shots. After downing it and chasing it with a swig from the open bottle of wine you’ve been sipping on while getting ready, you and Sarah head out for the night. 

Sarah’s boyfriend is waiting for you in the driveway, his beat-up old VW van in blatant contrast to the white brick mansion and manicured grounds surrounding it. You’ve met John B a few times, mostly in passing at parties, and once or twice at Sarah’s before everything fell apart and you had to avoid her house like the plague. But it’s been four months, and despite your underlying anxiety about seeing Rafe again, you’re excited to get drunk somewhere other than your bedroom again. 

Sarah climbs into the passenger side and leans over to give John B a quick kiss and you duck into the back, rolling your eyes at your lovesick friend. Despite the fact that they’ve been together for over a year, they’re still in the honeymoon phase and showing no signs of that stopping.

You’re not jealous - you’re not - but it does suck to be the single person in the backseat, watching your best friend lit up with love. It doesn’t help that your ex is her brother, who you had dated for two and a half years before finding out that he had cheated on you. It was a horrible, messy breakup, made even messier because Sarah got caught in the middle. 

It’s not the first party you’ve been to since the breakup (that honor goes to the one and only house party you had attempted to attend a month and a half ago before leaving after forty five minutes), but it is the first boneyard party since the breakup and that’s on a whole different level. The beach is sure to be so packed, you’ll have your pick of tourons to dance with. Maybe it’ll make Rafe jealous, or at the very least, it will help you get over him. 

Sure enough, the party is in full swing when John B pulls up to the beach. The loud, thumping music rattles his old car and you’re glad to be able to scramble out of it before the bass drops and increases the intensity of the shaking. John B leads the two of you over to the keg and pours you both a beer. 

“Thank you, sir,” you say, giving him a mock salute as he hands over the plastic cup. He just laughs and shakes his head at you, wrapping his arm around Sarah to pull her into his side. 

“I’m glad you came out with us, Y/N,” he says, voice full of sincerity. It melts your heart a little bit, because he’s just such a good guy. You’re happy for Sarah, and it dulls the sting of your own unfortunate romantic life a bit.

“Me too!” Sarah squeals, reaching out to squeeze your free hand with her own. Before you can respond, someone calls John B’s name, so you follow him and Sarah across the beach to where a campfire is set up. 

It turns out to be JJ Maybank who had called for him, sitting by the fire with Kiara Carrera and Pope Heyward. JJ stands up when he sees the three of you approaching and walks around the fire.

“Hey, man,” John B says, greeting him with that smooth high-five-fistbump combo that all boys seem to love.

“Hey, JB,” JJ says. He wraps an arm around Sarah, pulling her in for a side hug. “Sarah.”

“This is…” John B starts, gesturing towards you, but JJ puts up a hand to cut him off. In his other hand is a lit joint, which he takes a quick hit of before speaking.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I remember.�� He slides his aviators down his nose and peers over the rims at you with a small smirk on his lips.

“Maybank,” you say, nodding at him. You had only met JJ once or twice in passing, but he was always nice enough. To you, at least. 

“Y’know, you’ve got this, like, aura around you. It’s like… moonstone.” He takes another hit of the joint, dropping his gaze down your body and then back up to your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re, like, shimmery.” A laugh escapes your lips, bubbling out of you like an overflowing glass of champagne. 

“Okay, buddy, I think you’ve had enough of that.” You reach over to pluck the joint out from between his fingers, raising it to your lips. Smoke fills your lungs and you inhale until it starts to burn a bit and then push it out in a steady stream. JJ’s eyebrows raise in a mixture of shock and appreciation when you repeat the action two more times. Then you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around to find Sarah standing right behind you.

“We’re gonna go dance,” she says, raising her voice so you can hear her over the music. “You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah, I’m good!” You assure her, glancing back at JJ out of the corner of your eyes. 

When you turn back towards the fire, Pope and Kiara have disappeared, leaving you and JJ alone. You try not to read into that too much, but it’s hard because he’s a notorious womanizer. He’s also really fucking hot, in his backwards hat and cut-off Kildare Marina t-shirt, grinning at you with the flickering light from the fire dancing across his face, so you decide to say fuck it and give it a shot, even if it’s only for tonight. 

“Wanna sit?” he asks, gesturing towards one of the logs of driftwood situated around the fire. You nod and plop down next to him, giving the joint back. He takes another hit and then turns to look at you. 

“What?” You ask through nervous laughter as something that feels like butterflies flutters in your stomach. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the type of giddy excitement that comes from a burgeoning crush, and it feels as good as it is scary. 

“You’re pretty.” You roll your eyes at that pitiful excuse for a pick up line and take the joint back, turning to stare into the fire. He just shrugs. 

“What? It’s true. I’ve always thought so.” He’s not teasing, just stating a fact, and it shocks you so much that you nearly drop the joint. Thankfully, he has quick reflexes and is able to catch your wrist in his hand before it can fall completely. 

It’s almost gone, so the two of you pass it back and forth until it dwindles down to nearly nothing, sharing a companionable silence and soft, secret smiles. Then JJ tosses the roach into the fire and gets up, moving to stand in front of you. 

“Dance with me?” He asks with a flicker of mischief behind his eyes, holding his hand out to you. You make him sweat for a few seconds, biting your lip to keep yourself from grinning, then nod and take his hand, allowing him to pull you up and lead you over to the makeshift dance floor. 

You’re really starting to feel the impact of the weed, inhibitions lowering just enough to dull your senses to the outside world, and you let yourself sink into the pure, hedonistic pleasure of it. The feeling of the bass thumping deep in your chest, the slight press of JJ’s fingers against your hips as you move together in time to the music, the sticky, salty air that lays heavy around you. 

Time passes, though you’re not sure how much, and the more you dance together, the bolder it makes you. At some point, you spin around so your back is to JJ and grind up against him. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you tight to him, and he uses the other to brush your hair off your shoulders, dropping his head down to rest his chin in the dip of your exposed collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut and you let your weight sink back into his chest a bit. It’s broad and warm, and you feel safe, tucked against a boy you barely know in the middle of a sweaty crowd full of your peers, some of whom have been flashing confused looks your way all night. 

You don’t care, though, because for once, your brain isn’t running on a constant loop of intrusive thoughts about Rafe Cameron and Bella fucking Bond. That is, of course, until the crowd parts in front of you, revealing Rafe flanked by Topper and Kelce. You take a tiny, half-step back, leaning into JJ for support. JJ’s arm tightens around your waist and he wraps his other one around your shoulders protectively. As the three Kook boys get closer, you realize that Rafe’s wearing the vintage Air Jordans you bought him for his last birthday, and you roll your eyes at his audacity to show up and accost you wearing shoes you gave him as a present.

“Hey, Y/N,” Rafe says, lips curled up in his trademark half-sneer, half-smirk. “I see your standards have lowered.” 

“Just following your example,” you tell him, shrugging as much as you can with JJ’s arms around your shoulders. 

“You’re making a big mistake, Y/N, one you won’t be able to come back from.” Rafe’s eyes are dark and his voice is low and gravely in warning. 

“Hmmm. I don’t think I am. You can try to change my mind, but you gotta wait in line. My dance card’s full at the moment.” With that, you turn around in JJ’s arms so you’re facing him and press your lips to his. It’s a quick, forceful peck that you hope conveys yes I’m doing this to mess with Rafe but I also want to really kiss you so please just go along with it. You feel him smirk against your lips and your whole body relaxes, knowing that he’s on the same page. 

When you turn around to look at Rafe, he’s spluttering, looking from you to Topper with wide eyes. You wink at him and push against JJ’s shoulders in a silent request to leave the dance floor. His arms slide down your body and he captures one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together. 

Without a word, the two of you leave the dance floor, ignoring the fact that everyone’s eyes are following you as you cross the beach. Your heart rate skyrockets as adrenaline pumps through your veins, adding to your high. You feel powerful, unstoppable, and when you’re far enough away from everybody else, a laugh escapes your lips. 

“What’s so funny?” JJ asks, turning his head to raise his eyebrows at you.

You launch yourself into his arms and reconnect your lips, pouring your answer into the kiss. He stumbles back a few steps but then regains his balance and pulls you against him, arms tightening around your waist. After a few dizzying, breathless minutes, you pull back just enough to be able to take a deep breath. JJ’s eyes flutter open, diamonds shining behind his blue irises. He surges forward, recapturing your lips for a moment before trailing his own down your jawline.

“This okay?” He murmurs against your pulse point.

“Better than okay,” you breathe, tilting your head back slightly to give him better access. 

“Better than okay?” He pauses for a second, lips hovering above the sensitive skin between your collarbone and shoulder. 

“Yeah, it’s…nice.” You feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed and excited and embarrassed about the excitement. 

“Nice,” he agrees, lifting his head back up so your lips meet again. And it’s not really anything yet, but the first flickers of like burn in your stomach, and for the first time since your breakup there’s something like hope inflating your chest like it’s a balloon.

It’s nice. 

[rottenblur]

study break|part three|J.MILLER|

Summary:When Sarah suggested you and the Millers should go to brunch together, it seemed like a good idea, a fun one. Then one of the miller brothers decides to get his dessert early, upsetting the other. Someone’s gotta pay for that, it just happens, poor you is burdened of the payment.

WARNINGS: Dirty talking (tommy and joel) angry joel, choking, slapping, degrading names, public touching. Dark!joel DARK JOEL. He’s mean in this yall my apologies im not sorry. Pining tommy. Over panties touching.drunk joel texting you apologizing (pathetic) POSSESSIVE JOEL

“Are you really that much of a dumb fucking slut? It’s me or fucking no one.”

It was Sarah’s idea, going out for brunch, the four of you. “If you’re gonna be staying here for two weeks, may as well get comfortable with my family!” She said that with the most genuine smile.

It filled you with a little bit of guilt, for the things you had done with her dear father the night before, guilty for the way her uncle craves you.

Even though she wouldn’t realize what was going on, even if it was right in her. Sarah only thought the best of people especially her father, so of course she wouldn’t think the miller brothers would be drooling over you.

All of you cram into joel’s navy pickup truck, it was big and clearly one of his most prized possessions. Still has that “New car” scent. “I swear he would fuck his truck if he could, spends fifty bucks every week getting it washed at some fancy place, its so anal.”

Sarah says after she heard your gasp after jumping into it.

You pull your seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place. The warm black leather sticking to your bare legs. You decided to dress up for lunch, throwing on the only dress you packed a.k.a the only one you owned.

Sarah is talking your ear off about boys, shopping and what colour she should get her nails done next.

You hear the sound of the door slam, Joel strolls out of the house, dressed in his nicest flannel, buttoned up. A patch of the grey t-shirt he was wearing underneath, exposed. The way he had his sleeved rolled up mid arm had you drooling.

“He wears that god damn shirt to every fancy event, I swear he doesn’t have any formal clothes.” She says pointing to his washed out jeans as he approaches the car, you laugh, but really you couldn’t take your eyes off, how good those jeans shaped his ass.

He opens the car door, Tommy yells out from the door way, with one shoe being pulled on “Joel slow the fuck down, i’m coming with y’all.”

Joel scrunches his face up, shaking his head. “Fine, you’re paying for yourself.” Sarah looks at you with a confused look, you guess Tommy never comes to restaurants with them. Maybe he was coming for you?

He gets into the truck, starts the engine letting out a sigh. You look at the back of his head, he adjusts the rear mirror right on you, your eyes catching his.

You clear your throat and go back to listening to Sarah until Tommy gets into the car, with a stupid fucking smile.

“Everyone sleep okay?” He asked as if he wasn’t dead fucking asleep, while joel was in your room making you believe in heaven.

Joel lets out a small laugh, you both were thinking the same thing. Sarah replies to him and starts talking about her night.

“Can you believe he wouldn’t go through a drive thru for me? Who denies a drunk person fast food?” She says like its the worst thing ever.

“Who almost throws up in someone’s car because they couldn’t handle their liquor? Wanna answer that hun?” Oh hes sassy. Sarah was sending you videos all night, yet you only looked at them this morning due you being…slightly busy when she sent them.

It’s a long drive of you and joel stealing glances, looking away awkwardly when even the sight of him is bringing back memories of last night.

Finally, Joel pulls into the parking lot. You look around, it’s a decently nice place, one of those “insta worthy” places were girls take pictures of their food, it was overpriced for a reason it’s “aesthetic”.

Sarah loves it. Sarah was one of those girls that posted on her instagram every day, anything and everything.

She posted Joel a good few times before you came, not realizing he was her father.

More like one of those hot teachers in high school, that you beg to take a picture with on the last day of school.

He was good looking, he didn’t look his age at all. Never would you guess her dad would be THAT attractive.

He hops out, letting out a deep sigh and clearing his throat.

You undo your seatbelt, pick up your phone, you reach to open the door but Tommy is already there, with begging eyes he opens it.

“After you.”

He waves his hand, leaning on the door as you and Sarah hop out.

Adjusting your dress as you walk towards the door, Sarah’s arm interlinked with yours.

You can feel their eyes on you, the wind blows the bottom of your dress up, exposing patches of your thighs.

You look back, joel is sizing up the place seeing if it’s even decent, Tommy is well, um being Tommy. Devouring you with his eyes, it makes you nervous.

It takes him a good couple seconds to realize you caught him staring, peeling his eyes off your legs and smiling.

The fresh conditioned air gives you goosebumps as you step into the door.

A girl that looks like she spends way too much time on social media, about a couple years older greets you.

“Ya’ got a reservation sweetheart?”

God, you forgot that literally everyone around here got a pet name for strangers. Fucking texans.

Sarah pipes in.

“Yeah! Miller, four of us.”

She smiles and looks down at her reservation book.

“I’ll bring y’all to your table.”

She steps out from behind the cash and walks the bunch of you to a table on the deck, over looking the ocean.

You sit down in your seat, Joel sitting in front of you sarah attached at his hip.

Meaning, you’re stuck sitting neck to tommy. For fucks sake.

She smiles at joel, practically drooling.

“I can get your drink orders if y’all are ready.”

Sarah skims over the drink menu then smirks.

“Two mimosas for me and the lady.”

Joel shakes his head.

“You didn’t drink enough last night?” He huffs out.

You try to hold back a laugh but it’s uncontrollable.

“Just a coffee for me.” He hands the drink menu off to her.

“You want cream or sugar?” She asks, accepting the menu.

He shakes his head.

She hasn’t took her eyes off him since he walked in, fucking desperate.

“Water for me.”

She doesn’t even look at tommy when he orders. Why were you so upset over this, he’s beautiful you should know you’re not the only person that thinks that.

She nods her head and practically skips away.

You whip out your phone, placing your elbows on the table. Opening your messages skimming through to find sarah.

You: Staring problem much.-12:37pm

Her phone dings, she checks the notification and smiles. Typing back instantly.

Sarah m.: i thought she was gonna crawl on the table and harass him right then and there :0-12:37

You read her text and start laughing, you look at her and nod. Joel catches this, he leans over and tries to get a peek.

You: It’s definitely his “fancy” shirt. SHE WAS DROOLING.-12:38

She laughs and joel reads it, taking her phone and typing back.

Sarah m.: it is fucking fancy, thank u.-12:38

He huffs in unison with her, she tucks her phone back into her phone pocket and the lady returns.

With a fucking smile.

You look at sarah and roll your eyes as she lays down the drinks. Joel’s first, obviously.

She asks for your order then walks away.

You’re sipping on your drink, staring at the view, what were you thinking wearing a dress, wasn’t even hot out?

You get goosebumps and shiver, tommy catches it while sarah and joel are deep in conversation, about something stupid, whatever they could debate about, they would.

“You cold honey?”

He places a hand on your knee, rubbing circles with his thumb.

Oh god.

You shake your head. “Probably shouldn’t have worn a dress, bad idea.” Adding a nervous giggle.

He smiles, leaning in closer and whispering into your ear. “That’s right. Should have worn nothing.”

He pulls his hand further up, resting on the hem of your dress. Sitting comfortably on your upper thigh.

He rubs slow circles on your inner thigh, you squirm in your seat.

Fuck.

You finish off your drink, Tommy moves his hand up, grazing your clit through your panties. Your breath hitches. Joel looks at you, you look back.

He looks at Tommy then furrows his brows.

Fuck. Oh my FUCK.

You were caught.

You knew how much Tommy’s pining for you bothered him yet, you still let him touch you.

You’d say you were bothered by it too but the way your panties are wet right now says differently.

You clear your throat and stand up. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, ill be back.”

You almost trip over your own feet walking to the bathroom.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Does this mean you’ve lost Joel?

Maybe you’d get some nice rough angry sex out of this, finally feel him.

You stare in the mirror taking deep breaths trying to figure what the fuck to do.

Back at the table, Joel’s clawing at himself to have control, it’s nothing just some stupid fucking flirting, you didn’t resist though.

Fuck it.

He taps his jeans pocket and sighs. Interrupting Sarah and Tommy’s discourse on the latest movie they watched. They both look to him. “I forget my phone in the truck, imma get it.”

Sarah shrugs her shoulders as if she didn’t need to know that and goes back to her conversation.

He gets up, walks towards the exit and when he’s far enough for them to not see him, he stomps over to the bathroom.

You’re finished practically water boarding yourself to feel better, wiping off the “waterproof” mascara that ran down your face .

You open the door and are met with the hard chest of a taller man.

“Oh i’m sorry sir-“ You look up.

Fuck.

He pushes you back into the bathroom with a grip on your neck. Thank god for private bathrooms.

You thought it was just gonna be some steamy, kinky, public sex cause of him choking you. The way he was looking down at you, his grip tightening tells you different. He was fuming.

“Ah i-“ It’s hard to speak with the way his hand is engulfing your neck.

“Did ya like it?” He loosens his grip just enough for you to speak, pushing you against the bathroom wall by your neck.

The other hand encaging you above your head. He was leaning so close to you, it seemed like you could change his mind and it WOULD turn into sex.

He tilts his head waiting for an answer.

“Like what Joel?”

He tongues his teeth and shakes his head at this.

“Uh uh don’t you fucking dare-“ He retightened his grip. “-play the dumb slut with me, thought you were the smart one darlin’?”

You nod, choking out a response. “I’m sorry joel—really. I didn’t.”

He lets out a groan, slapping your face, a burning feeling races through your cheek, then he was spreading your legs.

“So you’re telling me, if i check right now, you won’t be soaking for tommy” He gets up in your face.

“Don’t like you lying to me darlin’”

He reaches down, hand still on your throat for dear life.

He feels your panties. They are fucking soaked. From him or Tommy, you have no clue.

“Just what i thought. Ya think you can just go ‘round picking and choosing what miller you want as your fuck toy?—” He tightened his grip, you can barely breathe.

“—Think i wouldn’t know? Think i don’t recognize that cute little face you make, when someone’s touching ya’?”

You choke on your own spit.

“Are you really that much of a dumb fucking slut? It’s me or fucking no one.”

He takes his hand off your throat. You cough as the air slowly refills your lungs. “I’m yours okay? Please i’m sorry.”

He grins, grabs your cheeks and gives you a quick kiss.

“Oh i know baby, you’re sorry now.”

He leaves the bathroom, leaving you to wipe the fresh mascara stains off your cheeks. You fix your hair and clear your throat.

When you come back to the table, Sarah is digging into a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

You sit down, Tommy smiles at you. Joel is wiping the pink lipgloss you stained him with off, before anyone notices.

“Hey! Are you okay? You were in there a while.” Sarah says with a mouthful of ice cream dripping past her lips.

You try to come up with an excuse.

“Got kinda lost trying to find it.”

Joel huffs. Tommy can’t keep himself off you. It’s like he’s trying to get you in trouble.

He leans in again, nothing good comes from this.

“Too bad I already had dessert, ice cream looks pretty darn good.”

God just touching you was his dessert? You’d blush if it wouldn’t get you put in your place again. He tries to touch you again.

You swipe his hand away. It hurt him, he frowns and mutters a sorry.

The car ride home was quiet. Sarah showing you pictures of the dinner on her phone.

Both millers were staring right at you in each picture, it’s like they weren’t even trying to hide it.

The only interaction with Joel for the rest of the night was those few glances through the rearview mirror on the way home.

It was cruel trying to sleep. You kept tracing the spots on your neck where he squeezed the hardest, honestly you thought u deserved it.

That one kiss through all the pain, it kept you up.

How was that the softest he had kissed you before, yet the most aggressive he treated you.

It made you question everything you knew about him.

You fell asleep looking at Sarah’s instagram, the pictures of him.

Too bad you were too dead asleep cause he was blowing up your phone.

3 missed calls from J.Miller-11:30pm

Hey can i talk to ya?-11:37pm

Sorry if i scared ya, just cant handle anyone else having u-11:37pm

Sweet dreams sugar.-11:46pm

masterlist (check out the rest of the series there:))

part four: here

AN!!! Hey long time no see yawl😪 i started writing this like last week and write 90% of it in like three hours sooo idk how to feel bout it ANGST??? DARK JOEL??? TOMMY MAKING A MOVE??? Lots going on in this. @cuntyjoel was my supportive writer bestie that actually convinced me to finish this go check em out and my bottom joel fic IM BEGGING YAWL its linked so is my master list with part one and two to study break. Love yall.

[omgreally]

Hot Coffee ☕️ / Joel Miller/F!Reader / 1.5k-2k ish / E18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: This escalated quickly. Angst; Banter; Sexual tension that is most definitely resolved; Consenting adults getting carried away; unprotected sex; smut, little bit of a breeding kink if you squint.

Summary: When is a coffee date not a coffee date? When it’s with Joel Miller, of course. It’s about time both of you got the hint.

—

Joel tries not to think about creature comforts much. The world ended so suddenly that most of them became a thing of the past in a single afternoon. By the time the next day dawned, he forgot about things like Sunday mornings and coffee and watching TV and playing board games; all that mattered was survival.

He often wondered why he bothered. There didn’t seem to be much to live for, after - after Sarah. Tommy kept him going a while, and sheer spite after that; anger at the whole world, anger that manifested itself through the impact of his fists or from the barrel of his gun. Bloody knuckles and the metallic tang of of gunpowder and copper the only taste left in the back of his throat. Things like coffee and pancakes? A thing of the past. Forgotten.

Tess cooled him down some, reminded him of something other than emptiness, but the space between her and Ellie coming along was too narrow, the grief too fresh, so he locked it away. He was pretty sure he’d never be close to someone like that ever again.

It was inevitable, though. Humans always sought out companionship; it was pack instinct more than anything else. At least, that’s what Joel tells himself as you sit across from him, drinking coffee.

He tells himself he isn’t getting comfortable or complacent, because if he let himself think that, then he’d start to think he doesn’t deserve it, and he knows where a thought like that ends. But he can taste something other than blood now, and he’s not sure why, but that scares him - more than his anger does.

Joel lets the silence stretch between you, and you seem comfortable with it. He imagines a time years ago when this would be a date. Now it’s just two humans sharing a space and a time where they don’t have to fight to survive. When he stops to think about it, he realises it feels…nice.

So nice he almost didn’t want to let you in when you came to his door, but you had a bag of coffee beans- real coffee beans - you pilfered on a patrol and you were offering to share them with him, no one else, him - and he’s not sure if it’s because he was the only person you knew who owned a coffee grinder in Jackson or not.

Joel’s not sure he can handle the implications otherwise.

“Finished already?” You raise a brow as he drains his chipped mug and sets it down on the table between you. “Jesus, Miller. You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls for hours. That shit’s Colombian.”

“Thirty-year-old Arabica beans,” he corrects, pointing a finger at you, making you smile. Making you smile is always easier than it should be. Easier with him than with others, he’s noticed. It worries him. “Probably full of more E. coli than caffeine.”

“You fail high school chemistry too?” You tease him often, because the man takes himself too damn seriously. Joel hates that he likes it, and he hates that you can tell.

“Okay, it’s oxidised,” he drawls, “It tastes like shit but it won’t kill me. Happy?”

“Only when you’re miserable,” you say brightly. He scoffs and shakes his head, and the quiet builds between you, its presence suddenly large and uncomfortable in the absence of more coffee. You sigh, and give up. “Ah, never mind. I should get going. Sorry the coffee was shit.”

You stand up and move towards the door. Joel catches your wrist, and you pause. Look down at the man. More greys than when you first met him, but his cheeks aren’t as hollow. Jackson suited him, even though he makes any excuse not to settle down.

Ellie’s happy here, so he doesn’t have a choice.

“Thanks,” Joel says, making eye contact. Your turn to look away. Too serious. “I haven’t had fresh-ground coffee in…” he pauses to think, going back. Too far back. “Ages,” he finishes. His fingers are still on your wrist.

“Well, you were the first person I thought of when I found it. Haven’t had a good supply run like that in ages. But it wasn’t fresh. I think you said something about E. coli?”

“Sorry. You know I-“ He fights for the words when you take his hand. You’ve never done that before. Flirted with him, sure, but you’ve never touched him unsolicited like this. You’ve got more boundaries, more walls up than he does sometimes.

“You remember coffee dates?” You smile at his frown. “You know, some asshole buys you a coffee, expects you to sleep with him after. Happened all the time to the girls I worked with at the bar, back before the world ended. Never to me though. So one day, I brought an asshole a cup of coffee. Know what happened?”

Joel shakes his head, mute. He’s stroking your wrist with his thumb, turned his body towards you. You could just sit right on his knee if you wanted. You could lean down and kiss him.

“We sat and drank coffee for twenty minutes and neither of us said a word.”

Joel lets you go like you’ve bitten him. He wonders if he’s blown it, and he’s surprised to find out he really hopes he hasn’t. You put up a lot but he’s always known it was inevitable he would ruin any chance at friendship - or more - with you by pushing you away. He’s been doing it for weeks, months even, ignoring your hints, responding with taciturn silence, expecting you to figure out it was habit drilled into him by years of only his own loneliness and anger for company.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says, not meeting your eyes. You touch his shoulder and then he looks up.

“Don’t be. Best coffee date I’ve had in ages.”

He tastes like bitter, burnt beans when you kiss him, and you imagine you don’t taste much better. But Joel reacts as if he’s drowning and you’re his only source of air - rising to his feet, his hands on your waist - he kisses you back like he never forgot how.

He didn’t know how much he wanted you until you were about to walk away.

Joel prays to god Ellie’s still out with that girl she likes because if she walked into their house right now she would see her surrogate father figure with his tongue down your throat and his hands in your pants. Your thoughts go down a similar road as you fumble with his belt.

There’s no need for words or what-ifs between you; you don’t need to say anything because you both know it doesn’t matter. All that matters is now, the press of Joel’s mouth and tongue, the solid promise of his body.

Joel touches you at first as if he can’t believe you’re real, that this is happening. But he’s quick to grow bold, hands kneading at your breast, fingers pinching at the peak of your nipple when he finds out it you like it - rewarding him with a gasp. Joel grins that cheeky fucking grin you see on him sometimes, when he thinks you aren’t looking, and suddenly all that matters is the stubborn zipper of his fly, the buttons of your shirt, and your sneakers which you just can’t seem to kick off fast enough before either of you stop to think that this might not be the best idea after all.

Joel can’t remember the last time he had a good idea, but this doesn’t feel like a bad one. Not with the heat of your mouth at his throat, the firm, pliable curves of your body pressed against him. He knew you weren’t the shy type but he almost chokes when you palm the outline of his stiffening dick before you even get his zipper all the way down.

It’s like a spell the two of you are too reluctant to break by speaking. There’s just the combined sound of your breathing, the press of your mouths, the intoxicating buzz of caffeine mixed with arousal so painfully strong it’s like a cramp. You need to fuck Joel right now as much as you need to breathe. He seems to feel the same, if how hard he is is anything to go by.

When you finally free his cock the animal part of Joel’s brain starts snarling and clawing at the walls. He grabs a fistful of your hair and spins you around, bending you forward over the table. You manage to kick one of your sneakers off, your jeans hanging off one leg - he doesn’t even pull your panties down, just drags the soaked fabric aside to make room for him.

Everything up til now has been frenzied. Coffee cups and clothes all over the floor. But when he pushes into you, time slows; and for a moment there’s no apocalypse outside Jackson. There’s just the feeling of Joel feeding your pussy every inch of his cock, slow but steady, as if he already knows you can take it. And you can, and you do, holding your breath as your entire focus narrows to the delicious ache between your legs as Joel stretches you open.

Then you feel his warm, wide palm on your back, long fingers stroking almost soothingly down your spine. He doesn’t speak but you can almost hear the dark molasses of his Texas drawl, lifting the hairs on your neck - Relax. Breathe. So you do, and Joel rewards you by pulling out slow - and thrusting in again quicker, finding a new angle that has the blunt head of his dick striking some nerve inside you that has you seeing stars, and then he does it again. And again.

You want to sob his name and drag claw marks into the table but you just hold onto the edge of it and arch your back, closing your eyes. You haven’t been fucked like this in years - maybe ever - and it feels right that it’s now, that it’s Joel Miller.

Thank God for coffee dates.

Joel’s thighs slap into the back of yours, the table jumping beneath you. You can hear him panting like distant thunder. When your legs start to shake beneath you, he loops an arm around your hips and finds your clit in seconds with two fingertips, as instinctive as pulling a trigger. You know you’re not going to last much longer, and he seems intent on it.

You moan his name then - without meaning to, without your permission - and Joel’s pace stutters. He starts grinding into you, barely pulling out before surging back in again, almost lifting your feet from the floor. You’re so wet you can hear it with each impact but you don’t give a fuck and Joel loves it; the reaction of your body only spurring him on.

All too quickly, you’re quivering on a knife’s edge, straining towards it, and you let go of a sob when you come, and the sudden fluttering, wet clench of your cunt around his cock finally does Joel in.

He knows he shouldn’t but he just needs to be inside you, deep enough to bruise, to replace the taste of coffee with the taste of him in the back of your throat - an instinct he just can’t hold back. He snaps his hips forward one last time, the slick wet heat of you welcoming him home, and his vision goes white as his cock pulses rhythmically inside you, filling you with his come.

You twitch and shiver through it, moaning weakly, encouragingly. You push back against him with the grip of your toes on the floor, murmuring wordless little sounds in time with the aftershocks.

Joel’s knees feel weak when awareness finally returns. He leans over you, breathing hard as if he’s just been running from a pack of Clickers, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck.

You know you should be pissed that Joel Miller just fucking came in you, but, well, you let him - and you liked it. A lot. You wanted him to. In fact, the predominant feeling you have now is one of satisfaction. In more ways than one.

You reach back on instinct to touch his face, as if to reassure yourself he’s still there. Joel flinches - but then you feel his beard, his lips against your fingers, your neck, your temple.

Yeah. He wanted this too. Maybe even needed it, too, as much as he needed the coffee.

“Definitely the best coffee date I’ve ever had,” you croak when you can speak again. And you think you can feel Joel smiling against your neck.

[fablesuntold]

🪓 Biography. Joel Miller 🪓

Most of this is made up by the mun— do not steal or reblog as I’ve put a lot of thought into this. Also do not copy this layout.

Basic info:

Name: Joel Miller.

Age:

28 years old. (pre-outbreak)

48 years old. (part 1)

53 years old. (part 2)

Birthday: Born September 26th.

Zodiac sign: Libra.

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: Heterosexual.

Nationality: American.

Born in: Austin, Texas.

Currently resides in: Jackson City, Wyoming.

Morality: Morally grey.

Occupation:

Carpenter (former/pre-outbreak)

Hunter (former)

Smuggler (former)

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Appearance:

Height: 180.3 cm/5’11”.

Weight: 91 kg/14 stone.

Hair: Brunette/Greying.

Eyes: Greenish Brown/Hazel.

Scars: A deep scar across the bridge of his nose and multiple smaller ones loitering his body head to toe from years of surviving in a world riddled with infected and dangerous people alike. His most prominent scar sits on his side where he fell from a height and landed on a metal rod which impaled clean through his abdomen. If not for Ellie, Joel would have certainly been a goner right then and there.

Other: Joel is often covered in grime and dirt from days of hardship— the dried blood under his fingernails basically stained. On bad days his face looks more weathered, the stress of living in a world where the dead freely roam the streets causing his wrinkles to appear more visible. The bags under his eyes have quickly become a common sight too.

Psychical appearance:

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Family/Friends:

Mother: Bonnie Miller.

Status: Deceased.

Relationship: Growing up, Joel was close to his mother as it was only the two of them and Tommy. He helped her take care of Tommy until she developed early onset dementia— which she later succumbed to and passed away in the nursing home she was placed in. It’s safe to say that Joel was devastated when his mother passed.

Father: Travis Miller.

Status: Unknown/presumably deceased.

Relationship: Travis left after Joel’s younger brother, Tommy, was born and decided to cut all ties to his family. Leaving Joel to be the man of the house, he grew bitter and indifferent toward his father. He can barely remember anything about the man, and doesn’t wish to either. It’s why he vowed to be a better father than he ever was when Sarah came along.

Siblings: One younger brother named Tommy. Given their father’s absence, Joel acted as both an older brother and a father to Tommy growing up. The two always did have a close bond, but once the virus broke out and Joel felt as though he’d lost everything.. their relationship soured to the point of psychical fights and they eventually parted ways, only to meet again years down the road.

Spouse: Joel got hitched pretty young (18) to a girl named Carla (18) after she fell pregnant due to a one night stand. Unfortunately the two could never make it work, and given the fact that Carla disliked motherhood, she packed up her things and left Joel to be a single father— never to be seen again, cutting both her husband and daughter out of her life.

Kids: One daughter named Sarah (12). Being a single dad, Sarah only had Joel to depend on and even though he worked most of the time to provide for her, the two were close. They often went to soccer games together, zoos, museums, coffee shops and hung out at the movies whenever Joel wasn’t busy. Unfortunately on outbreak day, Sarah didn’t stand a chance when she hurt her leg during a car accident upon trying to escape from the city. She was later fatally shot by a solider who was given the order to shoot anyone who approached in case they were infected, and she tragically died in Joel’s arms from blood loss. Joel has never recovered from her death.. though he does start his journey to healing when happening upon a young girl named Ellie who he takes under his wing over time and ultimately ends up adopting— a found family he didn’t know he needed or wanted.

Pets: Joel never had time for pets, but he promised Sarah he’d get her a hamster or a Guinea pig. The outbreak occurred before he could fulfil that promise, just another thing Joel looks back on and regrets.

Friends: Due to trust issues and the fact that it isn’t smart to trust anyone in an apocalyptic world, Joel doesn’t consider many people as friends. Although he developed a somewhat deep connection with Tess, another weathered survivor who shared the same morals and beliefs as him. The two partnered up in a quarantine zone, and ever since they met they were inseparable— Joel would even go as far as to say he likes her— and their occasional hookups. Nothing serious. Not that he’ll ever admit it, but he’s also close to Bill who he knows he can count on when in a sticky situation.

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Other:

Personality: A hardened survivor, Joel can come across as cruel, cold and hostile to those around him. Some of the choices he makes can be seen as ruthless, reckless and selfish.. but he does what he has to do in order to survive. With the mind set kill or be killed, Joel isn’t very merciful to those who stand in his way and when provoked, he can be a very dangerous man, reverting to torture tactics and violence if need be. Deep underneath all that gruff, there’s a man with a big heart. He’d do anything to keep his family safe, and his overprotective nature can often land him in heaps of trouble.

MBTI type: ISTJ. Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, Judging. This MBTI type is practical, realistic, and dependable and are often seen as the strong protector or leader in a group.

Any mental illnesses: After Sarah’s death, Joel fell into a deep depression and even tried to take his own life because he saw no point in carrying on. In his mind, he failed to save his own daughter and he had nothing else to live for. Luckily, he changed his mind last minute and when holding the gun under his chin, his hand jerked away just before the shot could hit him, the bullet narrowly missing his ear by an inch. This failed suicide attempt left him deaf in one ear.

Weapons: Joel has a vast range of weapons which he’s collected over the years. Ranging from hunting rifles, pistols, bows, sub-machine guns and various melee weapons. His favourite is his trusty old revolver though— something he started the apocalypse with and reminds him of home.

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Backstory:

Growing up in Texas, it was only Joel, his mother and his younger brother after his father left one evening and never came back. Joel supported his mother the best he could in taking care of the family until she developed early onset dementia and died a couple of years later.

It was hard to grieve her death with Tommy to take care of, and as a result Joel began drinking heavily at the young age of fifteen. This bad habit drove him to make some risky decisions and by the time he reached sixteen, Joel got the news that a one night stand of his (Carla) had fallen pregnant— and that’s when Sarah came along. Despite being young and scared out of his mind about parenthood, Joel dropped out of school and got a job as an apprentice carpenter so that he could provide for his young family— vowing to be the best father he could be.

Over the years Joel tried to make it work with Carla, even going as far as to propose to her when they were eighteen.. but sadly the two never could see eye to eye, wanting different things in life, and by the time Sarah was three years old, Carla was out of the picture after leaving in the middle of the night with little to no explanation— deciding that family life just wasn’t for her. This was the start of Joel’s deep distrust toward people.. but at least he still had Sarah.

Being a single father wasn’t at all as difficult as Joel anticipated it would be though, and over the years him and Sarah became best buds.

On the night of September 26th 2013, Joel’s birthday, a global pandemic broke out— one that quickly ravaged the world and tainted it with the undead, the Cordyceps virus, Joel would later discover. Unfortunately after trying to escape the city at the start of the outbreak with Tommy and Sarah, the trio got into a car crash which ended in Sarah’s ankle breaking. Joel carried her as far as he could, promising that he’d get her somewhere safe.. but tragically he failed to keep that promise when coming across a solider who had been given strict orders to shoot anyone who approached him on sight in fear of the civilians in the city being infected.

Before Joel could do so much as shield his daughter, she was hit and passed away in his arms from blood loss. After losing Sarah, Joel became cold and hostile to the world around him, developing an even deeper distrust toward everyone— soldiers in particular. It was this exact same hostility that lead to him and Tommy parting ways after many arguments and psychical fights broke out between them.

With no one to rely on and a world populated with infected, Joel saw no point in continuing on. He soon attempted suicide but ultimately decided against it when the watch on his wrist, the one Sarah gifted him for his birthday, halted him in his tracks before the bullet could make contact.

From there on out, and a few reckless decisions later with groups he briefly ran with, Joel spent most of his days in and out of quarantine zone camps looking for a new purpose, and that’s when he took on the role of a smuggler. A role that would unknowingly change his life for the better.

[dcpamines]

[ quintessa swindell, non-binary, they/he ] - was that HUNTER KING i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY-EIGHT year old who has been in nightrest for TWENTY YEARS and works as a/an PARAMEDIC has a reputation of being SHARP, but also DISTANT. they reside in LOW POINT & people in town usually associate them with flirting on the edge between life and death, finding comfort in chaos, not knowing who you are anymore but trying to find it, and missing a person so much you pretend it doesn’t exist. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next. 

full name — hunter king nickname(s) — hunny ( only by their brother and it’s to annoy him )  name meaning — one who hunts, pursuer age — twenty-eight date of birth — november 3rd place of birth — bronx, nyc star sign — scorpio sun, scorpio moon, aries rising  current location — salem, massacusetts  gender — non-binary pronouns — they/he sexual orientation — bisexual religion — atheist  occupation — paramedic/firefighter  education level — paramedic school  family — roscoe king ( father, estranged ), marianne tinley ( mother, estranged ), janine king ( aunt ),  jordan king ( brother ) finances — could be better spoken languages — english, spanish

inspos: rue bennett ( euphoria ) , tk strand ( 911 lone star ) , meredith grey ( greys anatomy ), jo march ( little women ), evan buckley ( 911 ), jeremy gilbert ( the vampire diaries ), steve harrington ( stranger things ), hayley marshall ( the originals ), nick miller ( new girl ), ian gallagher ( shameless ), sarah ( palm springs ), shawn hunter ( boy meets world )

tw: npc character dies on the job, non descriptive

“don’t go where i can’t follow you,” it’s the saying that jordan and hunter have been pinky promising each other since they were kids. hunter was raised by his brother and aunt janny, the three of them thick as thieves, and nyc was hunter’s playground. jordan taught him how to ride a skateboard when he was four, jordan holding onto their small arms, hunte’s legs never hit the ground but it was like they were gliding on the pavement, by ten hunter was skating circles around their brother with janny on her bike trying to keep up with her two children. 

janny was well loved in the community, a mother to many who needed it, always serving home cooked meals, jordan and hunter often bringing home some kind of stray ( whether it be a friend or an animal, all were welcome ). 

when hunter is eight they move from nyc to salem for a job opportunity. it wasn’t an easy thing for hunter to pack of up the only place they’ve known and live somewhere else, while it was phrased as a job opportunity their aunt thought that the two kids needed a change. 

it’s only really when hunter becomes a teenager does the woes of identity crisis start to hit, on top of wishing that you had a mom or a dad to teach you certain things. he’d never tell jordan or janny that — in many ways they knew that jordan probably felt it too. but janny was home and love and comfort. it didn’t mean that it fixed everything. 

hunter was hot and destructive and their teachers not understanding how hunter can be so smart but make such stupid decisions with their life, like it was some sort of gamble. they could never sit still for long, they had to be going somewhere, could never sit still and it would be the downfall, that kind of impulsiveness. hunter made a lot of wrong choices. 

jordan and janny loved them anyway. it wasn’t love that saved them, but the willingness to not become the ghosts of their parents. ( hunter thinks its funny how ghosts work, their parents were still here, just never… here. )

hunter becomes a firefighter after high school, then becomes a paramedic, either way — they see the firehouse more than they see their own apartment. it’s good for hunter, they’re good at what they do, their recklessness and impulsivity will always be their own downfall, but in the end it wouldn’t have mattered. it would take months of their own investigation, friends and family saying, it wasn’t your fault. you did the right thing. 

hunter and their partner got a bad call while on the job, it seemed off at first, hunter had been the one to say that they should wait for backup, its what they train for – scene assessment. scene size up. scene safety. it didn’t feel right, and hunter was usually correct when it came to their gut feelings. it didn’t matter. their partners funeral was days later. and their feelings for their partner would be buried with them. 

jordan moves in with hunter for the first couple of months, janny wants him to come home but he never does. on the outside they’re okay, they try to heal. 

hunter gets a new partner. life goes on.

more fun stuff:

ok look their story is sad but like on the outside they are very chill and act like everything is fine its called repression baby and they are living proof of it !!

v much loves their brother he's their bffl and probably comes as a duo most of the time

looking for best friends & possible roomie , hunter needs a ride or die fr

lowkey a slut ngl !! but they're hot so its ok asdkfnlsd

honestly just needs a hug

hunter still keeps the post cards that his parents send him, in a little box that's kept under his bed. is it healthy?? no !! but they're secretly sentimental and a softie at heart

[javierpenaisapunk]

first of all, I am go happy that you even got this idea in the first place. I don't know if it's true but I've heard that the first ting we forget about someone is their voice. I'm fortunate enough to not have lost many people in my life, but it struck me that I no longer remember what my grandpa sounded like. And now I'm thinking about how Joel felt when he realized he didn't remember Sarah's voice anymore. How that must've broken him.

A phone is just such a personal thing, so I get why he didn't throw it away. He had nothing on him from his life before the outbreak except his watch, maybe a wallet with money that didn't mean shit anymore, the shirt on his back, now covered in his child's blood. I would keep my phone too. Joel is a practical man who doesn't carry deadweight, but a phone is a small thing. Easily forgotten in the bottom of his pack.

It broke me how he felt to see the message '1 new voicemail' pop up on the screen. You wrote it so well that I felt how he felt. The fear, the hope, the desperation reaching out into a past where everything was fine and he was a father and had more than just a watch to show for it.

And the message Sarah left him???? Fucking perfect. It encapsulates their family dynamics so well, like that scene at their breakfast table. Sarah and Tommy teaming up in ribbing Joel, her sense of humor, the love they all have for each other. And Joel hasn't had that in a long time. His babygirl is gone, his relationship with his baby brother is very different, he is no longer that man. Two whole decades later, he is slapped in the face with a ghost of his past???? He's stronger than I am cause I would cease to exist immediately. He's 56 and she's supposed to be 35 all these years later. He greyed and wrinkled, but she never got to grow up. But she's still the kid joking about lunch money and telling him to bring home cake.

And she says 'see ya soon'!?!?!?!? Like the rest of the message wasn't heartbreaking enough, she says SEE YA SOON!? This poor man, oh my god. He did see her after she sent that message. He went home to her. Without the cake, but he went home. But my god hearing it now, when he hasn't seen her since his last nightmare where he once again failed her???? He's gonna play that message over and over until he dies.

I love that you included how he'd share the voicemail with Reader in the future. It's so beautiful, and it shows he's healing. He's showing someone he loves the man he used to be, showing her what his life revolved around. It's a 'this was my life, I was a father, I wish you could've met the little girl who was my everything'.

I have rambled so much and I could ramble more, but I'll leave it at saying I love this fic so so much.

Voicemail

A Seams oneshot, but can be read independently of the series

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: You find Joel's old Nokia at the back of a drawer.

Warnings: Angst, description of a panic attack, grief, comfort, no use of Y/N, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has no physical description, definitely incorrect description of how mobile phones work, very lightly edited.

As always, Seams oneshots are set on a relaxed timeline. Voicemail can be considered to take place at an unspecified time after Part IV.

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: I don't know if anyone has written anything similar, but I've always wanted to write something about Joel's Nokia (the idea for Butter actually came from the phone scene in episode 1 - can't you tell? lol). This idea took me by surprise one night and didn't let me go.

Important note: I know voicemails don't work this way, but let's pretend that they are saved onto the mobile phone itself and can be accessed decades later, and that a Nokia can indeed survive the apocalypse.

After the outbreak, after Sarah, after missing his shot - he doesn’t remember much of those early, blurry days. Tommy barely managed to drag his catatonic ass to an abandoned house somewhere on the outskirts of town, where he had to punch him in the face to snap him out of it. 

It being a cocktail of shock, grief, pain and numbness that should’ve killed him, could’ve killed any man. And for the longest time he wished that it did.

It was in the aftershock of that punch, left cheek snapped to his shoulder and his eyes downcast, that Joel saw his Nokia was still clipped to his belt, by some miracle unscathed when everything else had fallen apart.

And he keeps it all these years.

He hadn’t meant to take it with him when he packed up his meagre life to leave Boston behind. But the grubby afternoon light glanced off the screen when he was grabbing maps and hammers from under the dusty floorboards, and with a fuck it, he shrugged and shoved it into the bottom of his backpack. 

If he was being honest with himself, it didn’t feel right leaving it behind.

And so the phone made it to Jackson, and survived the detour to Salt Lake City, largely forgotten. Joel was almost surprised by the sight of it when he finally unpacked his bag in the house that was now his and Ellie’s. 

With a wry smile, he tossed it into a nondescript drawer in the garage, never to see the light of day again.

Until one weekend, Joel asks you to help him find some obscure screwdriver in his garage, not able to get up from where he’s on his back, stemming the flow of the perpetually leaky sink in Ellie’s bathroom.

The space is cool, the shutters down and the air dank from the lack of sun. Under the flickering fluorescent light, you go through a frankly ridiculous number of toolboxes without sighting the elusive screwdriver. With a sigh, you try the middle drawer in the workbench, which is clogged with what looks like everything under the sun. 

Your lips twitch - Joel Miller is a messy man.

Digging around the random clutter, you startle when your fingers brush the long-forgotten, yet instantly familiar plastic case of the Nokia.

Wrapping your hand around the rectangular frame, you smile, in disbelief that you’re holding a mobile phone. You had a similar one that got lost in the confusion of the first days of the outbreak, and you haven’t seen one in the years since. At least not one in such good condition.

Joel’s faraway voice jolts you out of your thoughts. ‘Found it, sweetheart?’

‘Just a second!’ you call back.

Tucking the phone back where it came from, you grab the nearest screwdriver and hope for the best. 

It takes you a few days of asking around town, poking around dusty storerooms and untangling twenty year-old electric cords, but you eventually find what you’re looking for, and there’s a spring in your step as you cook dinner that evening. 

Joel seems to pick up on your energy, and he grins, amused, when he brings in the empty dishes after you eat.

‘You’re buzzin’ out of your skin, sweetheart,’ he teases, grabbing you by the waist. ‘What’s up with you?’

You cock your head to the side. ‘Well, I have a surprise for you.’

‘Is that so?’ he hums, then lets his voice drop an octave in playful insinuation. ‘What kind of surprise, hmm?’

‘Not that kind of surprise,’ you huff with a smile. ‘It’s - it’s hard to explain.’

‘Try me.’

Twisting out of his grip, you open a cabinet and pull out something that fits neatly in your palm. Joel frowns, confused by what looks like - a charger.

When you speak, it’s slow, as if you don’t want to startle him. ‘There’s a whole warehouse of wires and things down by the canteen. A patrol stumbled across an electronics shop in a nearby town a few years ago.’

He gives you a crooked smile. ‘And what am I s’pposed to do with it, sweetheart?’

You take a moment, making sure that his eyes are on you before the words come out. ‘I found the Nokia in your garage the other day, when I was looking for the screwdriver.’

You watch as Joel processes your words, and he goes still, stiller than you’ve ever seen him. 

Then he blinks and shuffles his feet, glancing down at the charger. ‘I - I didn’t expect this.’

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. ‘I know. And you don’t have to do anything with it, really, but I just wanted you to have it.’

He nods, slowly. ‘Ok.’

Hesitating, you stutter, ‘So, um, do you - want to take it -?’

Joel holds his hand out, calloused palm quietly upturned. You half expect him to jump at the contact, but he doesn’t move a muscle when the black wire lands in his grasp, and his thick fingers curl around them.

‘I got the dishes, if you want to go first,’ you prompt softly.

Joel swallows, then nods. ‘Yeah, I think I’ll do that. If y’ don’t mind, sweetheart.’

‘Of course,’ you smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It’s cold outside, but he doesn’t feel it, not when the charger seems to be burning a hole in his hand. When he gets back to his house - empty, Ellie is at Lucy’s for dinner - he heads straight to the garage, and tugs open the drawer.

The Nokia stares back at him, screen blank.

Flinging the charger into the drawer without seeing where it lands, he shoves the drawer close with a snap.

Weeks pass. It hangs in the back of his mind like a spector, even though you don’t bring it up again, and he doesn’t either. 

He’s not sure if he’s afraid of it, or dreading it, or worst of all - hopeful of what he would find on it.

It’s been twenty years. Electronics don’t last that long. It’s gotta be wiped clean.

One Wednesday night, Ellie is upstairs, music blaring, doing ‘homework’ or whatever she does on a weeknight (he doesn’t believe in helicopter parenting), and Joel finds his thoughts drifting to that damn drawer.

Feeling reckless, he reaches for the top shelf in the kitchen, pours himself two fingers of whiskey, and charges into the garage.

Hopping onto a workstool, he takes a big gulp of liquid courage and sets the tumbler on the work surface. Before his resolve slips completely out of touch, he yanks on the handle, and he winces when the drawer yawns open with a screech.

The Nokia feels foreign to the touch, like he’s forgotten how to hold a phone. It was, of course, glued to his ear almost all hours of the day and night once upon a time. He turns the plastic case over and the other way around again, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the buttons.

There’s no putting it off forever.

In goes the plug into the electric socket, and he looks down, phone in the left hand, the end of the charger in the other.

He thinks he’s seeing double until he realises that his hands are fucking shaking.

In one determined motion, he slots the charger into the bottom of the phone and drops it like it’s acid.

Then he downs the rest of his whiskey.

He’s not sure how long he stares, the very air around him as unmoving as himself, and he feels the alcohol spread its warm fingers through his veins. 

Just when he’s about to look away, it happens.

The battery sign appears on the screen.

Joel almost chokes on a chuckle. He can’t fucking believe it. You really can’t kill a Nokia if you tried.

It doesn’t take long for the familiar home screen to pop up, the time on the top right corner, the battery in the bottom right. The bright green glare casts a cool glow in the dim. Joel picks up the phone, only to be nearly knocked backwards off the chair when the words flash across the screen.

1 NEW VOICEMAIL.

He’s sure his heart has stopped, it definitely feels like it, a deadweight in his chest sinking into his stomach. But he hears it, the relentless beat of it, pounding violently in his ears. Too fast. Gripping the edge of the work surface, he tries to breathe, mouth open, but air isn’t getting in.

It could be nothing. Could be a voicemail he missed from a client that night, or a junk call.

He’s not sure if he’s afraid of it, or dreading it, or worst of all -

He’s trembling so badly that he needs both hands to hold the phone steady, just so that his thumb presses the selection key.

He doesn’t hear the pre-recorded message, his brain skips it entirely. Then there’s five seconds of silence, and his life flashes before his eyes at the familiar beep -

Dad, are you on your way home? Please tell me you remembered the cake. Uncle Tommy bet me ten dollars that you won’t and I kinda need that lunch money tomorrow. See you soon, love you dad -

And everything goes white.

When Joel comes around, he’s on his knees, the empty tumbler in crystalline pieces around him. The phone is no longer attached to the charger, clutched so tightly in his hands that he feels the imprint of every button in his palm.

He won’t know that his face is wet with tears until you thumb the streaks off his cheeks on your doorstep minutes later, no memory of how he got there. You draw him into you, but your embrace barely contains his broad frame.

You can’t get him far in his state, whiskey on his breath and shivering all over. You drag him across the living room and onto the couch, where you curl up against him, warming him up with your body heat, cradling his head on your chest. The candlelight bounces off the phone screen, which glows green in his grasp.

It will take him weeks to get his head around what you have given him. And when he does, he will ask if you want to hear Sarah’s voice - shyly - as if you would ever say no. 

Watching him watch you, Sarah’s warm, fun-loving voice in your ear, the seams of your lashes sting with tears as your heart clenches, swells, breaks for him - and then put together again by his hand finding you, fingers filling the gaps between yours.

But for now, he lies prostrate, his weight pinning you to the couch, as you comb soothing fingers through his hair, anchoring him to you.

‘I got you, Joel,’ you whisper in his ear, and his eyelids droop and his breathing evens out, as if he’s run a thousand miles. ‘I got you.’

As he drifts off to sleep - his baby girl's love you dad echoing between his ears - he knows that you do.

More notes: I don't lean too hard into angst in my fics as a rule, so this took me places I haven't been for a while, but it's ok cos Pin's got our man 🥺 Thank you for reading, as always! ❤️

[youngfcs]

— SARAH GREY | The Order gif pack.

By clicking the source link or [ this link ], you’ll find #91 gifs of Sarah Grey (1996) as Alyssa Drake in the show The Order (season 1 - episodes 1-2) [2019]. Sarah was born in Canada and is of Caucasian ethnicity. All made by me from scratch, so please, don’t repost or claim them as your own! You can use them in editions, or crackships, but please credit me (@youngfcs).  If using, like or reblog ❗

[ ! ] Contains:-

[ Don’t include them in any gif hunt, don’t crop these into gif icons without my permission, don’t use them in any smut threads/rps or for taboo roleplays and don’t use to rp the celebrity itself ]

[rorygifs]

PUBLIC COMMISSION!  —  sarah grey in the order (s1e03-10) // by clicking on the source link you will find #400 gifs. all of the gifs were made by me, so do not claim them as your own or edit in any way without my permission. please, like or reblog if you find them helpful or use them.

content/trigger warnings: kissing, flashing light, violence, crying, weapon

[alexcsofrp]

Sarah Drew -> Grey’s Anatomy

[clueless-fan-critic]

Black Adam: A True Antihero for DC (minus the comedy)

Black Adam was an action-packed rollercoaster full of good acting, intense action, and an actually morally grey character.

I honestly thought he was going to be just the type of “villain” that turns out to be a superhero, but it turns out that Black Adam was an actual morally complex character. In the movie, he has to grapple with the idea that he’s not a hero but the world needs someone who can do what’s for the best. What makes him interesting is how he evolves into the role of a protector rather than a superhero, thus doing things like killing bad guys while keeping people safe. I also like that they changed him from someone seeking power and glory to a man lost in a new world.

The rest of the characters were kind of there as more modern guides for Black Adam to understand the world or save from the Intergang. I liked the scene with Sarah Shahi’s Adrianna Tomaz where she talks back at the Justice Society for being hypocrites about international stability and how the Kahndaq needs someone like Black Adam to get results. It showcases that superheroes are essentially in a box of moral hypocrisy where they talk the talk but don’t walk it most of the time. It also sheds a light on how the morals of the heroes come into the reality the people face.

It was an overall intense but fun action film that has some things to say without going too preachy and over-explaining its message.

[singinprincess]

All right, I need to get back into a groove with my gifs, therefore, my ask is open to gif requests. These will be *simple gifsets, nothing elaborate. I will be making these gifs over the next several months while we all suffer through the hiatus. List of options below the cut. Thanks!

Characters:

Alex Danvers (Supergirl)

Astra (Supergirl)

Audrey Lim (The Good Doctor)

Caitlin Snow (The Flash)

Jo Danville (CSI NY)

Kate Callahan (Criminal Minds)

Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy)

Maddie Buckley (911)

Melinda Gordon (Ghost Whisperer)

Olivia Benson (SVU)

Pasiphae (Atlantis)

Regina Mills (OUaT)

Sarah Alder (M:FS)

Stephen Hart (Primeval)

Shows:

9-1-1 (no Buddie, sorry)

Atlantis BBC

The Big Leap

Blindspot

Call Your Mother

Castle

CSI: Cyber

CSI: NY (s7-9)

Law & Order: SVU

Legend of the Seeker

Malibu Country

Motherland: Fort Salem

Mutant X

Offspring

Once Upon a Time

Packed to the Rafters

REBA

Rizzoli & Isles

Robin Hood BBC (s1-2)

Supergirl

Wanted (AU)

Witches of East End

Bollywood:

Bobby Deol

Juhi Chawla

Madhuri Dixit

Rani Mukerji

Sonam Kapoor

Sridevi

Anything Related to:

Celine Dion

Constance Marie

Lana Parrilla

Reba McEntire

Rebecca Gibney

Sarah Parish

Other request? If it’s something I typically gif, feel free to ask. Check my tags page for things I’ve done previously.

Some will be posted on my sideblogs, but I will tag/send to you.

Current list of requests can be found here.

*for clarification purposes, by “simple gifsets” I simply mean no lyric edits or crossovers. Specific scenes are fine!

[bdavisresources]

♡ PINNED POST!!

welcome to bdavisresources, which is a blog run by sarah. 23. she/her. and based in the eastern timezone!! this is mostly a resource/inspo blog, which i run off queue. it’s currently a sideblog to mcneuros and i will follow back from there! i am currently accepting suggestions for gif packs & base icons! i’m tracking #bdavisresources

♡ CURRENTLY WORKING ON!!

eric dane as mark sloan in season eight of grey’s anatomy (gif pack)

austin nichols as julian baker in seasons 7-9 of oth (gif pack)

laura marano as izzy in the royal treatment (gif pack)

dawson’s creek base icons

chrissy metz as kate pearson in this is us (gif pack)

[starshipsofstarlord]

hi! can you ship me with marvel, teen wolf & the vampire diaries ? my hair is dyed blonde but it’s originally auburn & i have grey eyes ( blue/ grey ? ) i love adventures + road trips and the color pink. i love hearts and i love doing my nails. i like to make friends and i have a lot of animals :)

ofc ofc ofc so sorry for the late reply hunny!! okay okay so excited to be doing this again here we go!

i dunno but my first thought for tvd was klaus, he’d constantly be prepared to take you across the world and show you all of its greatest sights (recommend notre dam it was beau!). and whilst he did so he’d tell you all of the stories from his times passing through or living places, I also feel like being on the road for a bit and not remaining in his own territory would do this man some good, and he’d be absolutely in his element to spend some well needed time with you and focus on nothing else but your relationship. not to mention he’d wanna go to all of the museums across the world and talk in detail about the artists that he’d met or heard great things about, I feel like klaus would get a little nerdy about that. as known he liked to go on carriage rides so with you liking animals it’d be a win win maybe he’d draw you a portrait of one too iykyk.

Sam Wilson, because this man could take you across the seas on his parents boat and he’d treat you like an absolute queen. I feel as though the journey of you two would have started out at the end of aou with the two of you being new recruits for the avengers, with training and missions that you’d have to go on you’d grow quite close with all of the time you’d have to spend together, for a while you’d feel as though he was just a friend, but eventually within the time you’re having to hide out you stay with him and Sarah and his kids and see that you two could be more and that you want to be. and whilst doing your nails isn’t always the best attire for going out into the battlefield, Sam would always buy you any new polishes or tools that you need to redo them whether that be to your room or when the team is watching a movie. this man is a sweetheart not to forget to mention on the quinjet home he’d allow you to fall asleep on his shoulder

Okay so here me out on this one, Liam would literally be like your very own puppy and not that you’d need more animals but this boy would literally do ANYTHING for you. he’s hella whipped which is adorable, but not only do your thrills for adventure cause occasional trouble for the pack, but they make for great stories that you both look back on and laugh at, like the time that you stole Stiles’ jeep because your car was in the garage. Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy about that but it made for some great time for you to spend with the baby beta and you had no regrets. and the most cute thing is that Liam is always willing to learn things that you like to do so that he can help; such as your nails and whilst he definitely wouldn’t be an artist with it he’d definitely try his hardest and have this firm look of concentration on his face as he did it!