#tommy told her this part of joel was long dead

[mariatesstruther]

okay but a version of events in which tommy takes ellie to the fireflies, but NEITHER of them come back. and maria joel have to work together to get them back

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part i)

summary: Joel Miller never expected much out of Jackson—just a quiet place to live out the days he had left. But when a baby’s cries lead him to a mother unravelling under the pressure of nursing her child she never asked for, he finds himself tangled in something he can’t walk away from��no matter how much he tells himself he should.

a/n: this is soft daddy Joel like you've never seen before. angst, angst, angst. just heart-wrenching, gut-clenching, bucket-full-of-tears kind of flow. but I promise, I swear to you, it's going to get good!

Joel had spent the past week trying to ignore it.

The sound was distant, muffled through the walls, but it was there—constant, sharp infant's cries cutting through the night like something wounded, something helpless. The baby never laughed, cooed, or made small, gurgling noises that kids were supposed to make. Just crying. Night after night, the same pitiful wails, like it was fighting sleep and didn’t know how to be comforted.

And the mother?

Leela. That was her name. Tommy and Maria had told him her family had been here before them, before all of this, that she’d grown up in Jackson, that the big house across from his had always been hers. He instantly believed it—her place didn’t look like the others. It was well-kept in a way that wasn’t just for show. The wood was aged but polished, the porch steps sturdy, and the windows wiped clean even in the dead of winter. A home, not just a shelter.

But it wasn’t warm.

Not with that sound in the night. Not when he never saw anyone else go inside.

No one knew who the kid’s father was, and Leela never said. She wouldn’t even let people help her—not Maria, not the older women in town who had tried, not even the ones who had kids of their own and knew what to do. And now, at the end of another long day, that fucking baby was crying again.

Joel had tried to let it be. Had forced himself to breathe calmly, stay in his house, shut the curtains, turn over in bed and pull the blanket over his head like some stubborn old bastard trying to pretend it wasn’t his problem.

But it was.

Because he could hear it. Because it sounded fucking miserable. Because he’d had enough.

When the cries began to get worse into the night, that was his last straw. With a frustrated sigh, he yanked on his jacket, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and stepped out into the cold, the door crashing shut behind him. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he crossed the road, hands tightening into fists, shoulders squared. The wind was sharp, biting at his skin, and when he reached her porch, he had half a mind to just bang on the damn door until she answered.

But then—he hesitated.

There was still a kid in there. The devilkin, probably. A baby nevertheless. And it's struggling mother.

He exhaled through his nose, loosened his fingers, and reached for the old metal knocker instead. Three firm, steady raps.

A pause. A paddle of footsteps down the staircase inside, light and hesitant. A sniffle. A sigh.

The curtains fluttered from nearby—just a fraction, just enough for him to catch the glint of an eye in the darkness, shedding a blade of light onto the frozen lawn. And then the door creaked open.

The poor mother looked like hell.

Her eyes—pretty, brown, red-rimmed, heavy-lidded—held the kind of exhaustion that settled deep, beyond sleep, beyond fixing. Her cheeks were hollowed, her lips chapped to brown, her hair falling loose from whatever attempt she’d made to pull it back.

And the baby—the cries hadn’t stopped. If anything, they were worse now. Closer. Desperate. The sound reached him in waves, piercing and thin, rattling against the walls of the house and clawing at something deep in his chest. A familiarity.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she murmured. Her voice was raw, barely holding together. “I just…”

She trailed off as if the words had run out, or maybe she didn’t have the strength to find them. Then the baby shrieked, and she flinched. A full-body recoil, like something had struck her. She turned away, pressing her wrist to her nose, shoulders curling inward, folding into herself as though she could disappear into the space she took up.

And Joel—well, he had been ready to lay into her. To tell her to do something, to figure it out, to stop letting that kid cry itself raw night after night. But looking at her now, standing there with her arms wrapped tight around herself, shaking from something that wasn’t just the cold…

He couldn’t do it.

Instead, against every instinct, every frustration, he surprised himself by saying—

“Let me try.”

X

Joel didn’t exactly wait for an answer.

Didn’t stop to think if he had the right. Didn’t question if she would let him in, because the noise was still there, splitting the air, working its way under his skin like a thorn that wouldn’t come out. His jaw tightened, his hands curled into fists, and the next thing he knew, he was pushing past her and her doorstep.

He wasn’t trying to be cruel. Well, he had been, just not anymore.

It was desperation. A need to stop that noise. That noise had been giving him sleepless nights for a week now. And with it, came the memories he’d spent years burying. He couldn't afford to let them resurface by the likes of this strange, terrible mother.

The house smelled faintly of old wood, dust, and something softer underneath—like linen, like the lingering scent of a person who lived there and never left. It was dark, too, save for the single glow spilling from a room upstairs. His boots were heavy against the worn floorboards, his breath tight in his chest as he took the stairs two at a time. Three doors on the second floor, but only one was open.

He stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was the cradle, right in the centre of the empty room, as if placed there on purpose, a little crib mobile fashioned into wooden horses, dangling mid-air.

Old. Hinges barely holding together. The wood had worn smooth from time, its edges dulled, like something that had been used for generations. The mattress inside was thin, its fabric stained with age, but the sheets were neatly tucked. Arranged properly. Everything was in its place.

This wasn’t neglect.

This was someone trying—someone failing.

And then the baby. No older than a month, wriggling in its white nappy, legs kicking in frantic little bursts, tiny fists curled so tight they trembled. Tears slicked its cheeks, its face blotchy and red, its mouth stretched wide in a scream so raw, so piercing, that it stole the breath straight from the lungs. It was exhausted. Starving.

But goddamn, if that wasn't one beautiful fucking baby.

Biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen, glassy with exhaustion, wet and searching. A head full of thick, dark hair, damp and curling at the ends. But it wasn’t chubby the way babies should be. Not soft enough. Too small, skin drawn tight, movements restless but weak. Malnourished.

His jaw clenched. He barely registered the sharp footsteps rushing up behind him until her voice cut through the noise.

“Hey, ‘scuse me, I didn’t let—”

He cut off her protest with an abrupt, “Boy or girl?”

She stopped short. Lips parting. Swallowing down whatever she’d been about to say.

“Girl.”

Joel’s gaze flicked back to the baby. He noticed the slight bloating around her belly, the way she arched and curled, restless, like she couldn’t find a position that didn’t hurt. That explained the shrieking. Colic, for sure.

“You fed her anything?”

There was a thoughtful pause, and then, quietly—

“I—I’ve been having trouble with…” She gestured vaguely to her chest, gaze dropping, almost ashamed. “I tried water... um... I don't know.”

Jesus Christ. Joel dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard through his nose. Too late at night or too early in the morning—he didn’t know which, and at this point, it didn’t matter. His head ached. His body ached. And this kid—this poor, starving little thing—had been too hapless to be born to this fucking clueless, stubborn mother.

“Need to call Maria,” he said under his breath.

Her eyes went wide. “I don’t need anybody’s help. I'm fine.”

He let out a sharp, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “You don't. Your girl sure does. And try saying that when this crib empties in the next week.”

She flinched, shoulders jerking.

He barely registered it. He was already moving, already slipping into old instinct, the one he thought had died a long time ago.

Stepping closer, Joel reached into the cradle, hands slipping beneath the baby’s small, rigid body. Carefully, he eased her onto her stomach, a shush falling from his lips, settling her against his forearm, palm spanning nearly the length of her body. Christ, she was so fucking small. Too small. Probably premature. A frail little thing, light as air, fists still curled, breath coming out in tiny, shuddering gasps between cries.

Leela stood stiff beside him, her breath uneven, arms wrapped around herself like she wasn’t sure if she should step forward or pull away.

Joel didn’t look at her. His focus stayed on the baby. The way her tiny limbs jerked, how her cries wavered like she couldn’t decide if she had the energy to keep going.

He started rubbing slow, steady circles against her back, the calloused warmth of his palm pressing gently but firmly over her fragile bones. Something old stirred in him—something buried deep, something that twisted like a knife. He didn’t think about it. Didn’t let himself. Just kept rubbing. Kept murmuring something low, quiet, something he wasn’t even aware of.

“Thatta, girl. There you go.”

“'Sokay, ssh. Ssh.”

“I got you.”

The wails started to waver, breaking apart in the middle, turning into stuttering hiccups, then snivels, a laughable baby burp that even had him breaking into a small smile. Then—

Silence. Oh, sweet, splendid silence.

Joel exhaled, keeping his touch steady as she shuddered against him, her tiny fingers twitching against the sleeve of his jacket.

“See?” His voice was rough. “Just needed a little push.”

Leela didn’t respond. She was staring. Not at him, exactly, but at his hands, at the way he held the baby. Like she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Observing him, learning.

When he glanced down, she was blinking up at him, half-lidded, her breath slowing, her little body going limp with exhaustion. She made a wet, little noise, almost a soft coo.

“She got a name?”

When the silence lingered, he lifted his head, caught Leela’s stare, and cocked a brow when she didn’t answer. Then, she silently shook her head.

Joel frowned. “You didn’t name your kid?”

And just like that, something clicked into place. The way she stood there, arms locked tight around herself. The way she hadn’t called the baby anything. The way she hadn't moved a step close to protect her baby from this stranger. The hesitation in her voice, the way she held herself together like she was bracing for something.

“She ain’t yours?”

Her gaze flickered. “She is.”

Soft. Firm. After a beat, she lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing the crisscross of stretch marks across her stomach, just above the line of her pants.

Joel sighed through his nose. His fingers ghosted over the baby’s small back before he finally let go, letting her rest in her mother's arms. It felt wrong—leaving the baby there like that—but he slipped his hand away, albeit unwillingly, and stroked her fine, dark hair once. Twice. Then forced himself to stop.

He exhaled sharply, standing upright, rubbing a hand over his face. His patience was hanging by a thread. His chest ached with something raw, something angry. He had no business being here, no reason to care, but—

"Look," he muttered, voice tight, "you shouldn't have had a kid if you were just gonna sit around and do nothing. Jesus, at least get yourself some help."

Leela cringed. It was barely noticeable, just a flicker of movement, but he caught it. She turned her face away, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, and bit at what little was left of her nail, worrying it between her teeth.

The sight of it—it wasn’t what he expected. He had been bracing for an argument, for defensiveness, for anger. But there was nothing like that. Just the quiet gnawing of her thumbnail, the restless shifting of her fingers.

Something settled uneasily in his chest.

He exhaled sharply. "Maria’s coming in tomorrow," he said, firm. Like he was setting it in stone. "Whether you like it or not. She'll know what to do."

That made her glance up. And for the first time, he really saw her.

Not just the exhaustion, the red-rimmed eyes, or the way she curled in on herself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible—but the fear. That deep, paralyzing kind of fear that settled into a person’s bones, made a home there.

Then his eyes flicked downward, back to the baby. She had her mother’s eyes. Big, dark, and brimming with something wild, something untamed. Something fragile, caught on the verge of bolting. And in that moment, they both looked the same.

Wet. Trembling. Exhausted. Confused. Helpless.

Leela swallowed thickly, lips parting like she wanted to speak. But when she did, her voice barely made it past her throat. “Take her.”

Joel blinked. For a second, he thought he must’ve misheard.

But she was looking at him—really looking at him now, eyes wide and wet, breath uneven like she’d just sprinted a mile. And the way she was standing, trembling, fists curled into the fabric of her sleeves—She meant it. She was serious.

"You're right," she whispered, voice barely there. "I might kill her. Just take her away, please."

A slow, sinking dread pooled in his stomach. His fingers curled at his sides, restless, itching for something to hold onto.

The baby stirred weakly against Leela’s chest, small fingers twitching up to her mother's neck, dark lashes fluttering against flushed skin. She had gone quiet, her body still in that way newborns only got when they were too damn exhausted to keep crying.

His hands twitched at his sides. He knew what he should do. He should take the kid. That was the right thing, wasn’t it? He should lift her into his arms, swaddle her in a blanket, turn on his heel, and walk out the door. Hand her off to Maria, and let someone who actually knew what they were doing step in. Hell, she’d been talking about trying to set up a proper nursery in town, get the kids what they needed—she’d figure it out.

But Joel didn't move; couldn't move.

Because now that he was looking at her, really looking, he saw it—saw the fear clinging to her like a second skin. Not fear of him. Not fear of what people might say. Fear of herself. Conviction was a luxury.

She stood there, arms wrapped tight around herself, her body drawn inward like she was trying to make herself small as if shrinking could somehow erase the truth. The baby rested against her chest, quiet now, as if sensing the shift in the air. Her fingers barely touched her child, hesitant, light, the way someone might hold a delicate piece of glass they weren’t sure they could be trusted with.

Joel’s stomach turned.

“I—I'm not—I can’t do this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, frayed at the edges, raw like an old wound that had never properly healed.

He felt something sharp and hot twist inside him, something he didn’t want to name.

“You ain’t givin’ her up.” His voice came out rough, low, unwavering.

Leela let out a breathy, broken laugh, shaking her head. “Do you think I have a choice here?”

“Yeah.” His eyes stayed on hers, unrelenting. “I do.”

She sniffled, shaking her head again, but her fingers twitched against her sleeve, gripping the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

And Joel—Joel had seen this before. Had known people like this. People who stood at the edge of something dark, looking down, unable to turn back. He’d been one of them once. It made something ugly rise in his chest. Made him angry in a way that didn’t make sense, and didn’t sit right.

Because this mother—this stupid, foolish, ignorant girl—had no business being like that. She didn't even know what kind of luck she'd struck with that baby girl. He would've killed to be where she was, even if it was for a moment.

"You're a fucking coward if you're thinking about giving your daughter up.” The words left him, sharp as a blade, before he could stop them. “You got plenty of choices, but you're too goddamn pigheaded to make the right one."

She flinched. Not just in surprise, but something deeper—like he’d struck her with all his might, like he’d confirmed every awful thing she’d ever thought about herself.

Joel’s jaw locked. It was too late to take it back.

He should’ve stopped. He should’ve taken a breath, let the words settle and left it at that. But something about her, the way she stood there like she was waiting to be knocked down, made his patience snap clean in half.

“Pull yourself together,” he bit out.

Then he turned and walked out the door.

The air outside was colder than before, or maybe it felt that way. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped onto the road, his breath coming sharp, ragged in the quiet of the night. His fingers ached, curled into tight fists, his pulse still hammering.

He was halfway across the street when something in him shifted.

His anger thinned, the heat of it fading just enough for everything else to creep in—her voice, her hands trembling, the way her arms had tightened around that kid like she was afraid of herself more than anything else.

He slowed, stopping in his tracks. The house loomed behind him, dark except for that single upstairs window.

Joel looked up at the home.

The cries had started again. Thin, reedy wails carried through the cold, through the walls.

He stood there, staring at the lights flickering against the frost-covered glass.

This time, jaw tight, he turned away.

X

That being said, Joel hadn’t slept well.

Not that he ever did, but last night was worse than usual.

Every time he closed his eyes, it was the baby’s cries again. He saw Leela’s face, dark and hollow, eyes too big for her sunken frame. He heard her voice, raw and trembling, telling him to take the kid—like it was the only way. Like she didn’t trust herself to keep her alive, already grieving her.

Even now, as he tugged on his gloves and prepared for patrol, he kept seeing the way she had watched him with her baby. He remembered the way she desperately looked at him, waiting for him to take the baby from her, as if letting go was the only mercy she had left to offer.

Maria was there now. She had let herself in, just like that. Hadn’t knocked, hadn’t hesitated. And Leela had not met her at the door, hadn’t locked it after Joel had walked out last night.

He adjusted the rifle on his back and exhaled sharply.

Not his problem. He shouldn't be bothered with it. He’d done his part. More than his part. He had brought help in, and gotten someone else to deal with it—someone better suited for this kind of thing. Maria would figure it out. She always did.

Still, as he swung himself onto his horse and rode out for patrol, that damn house stayed in the back of his mind. The way it stood there, quiet and still, while something inside was coming apart at the seams. The way Leela had stood in that dim room, shoulders curled inward, looking more like a ghost than a person.

He shook it off and went through the motions. Focus on the day ahead.

Patrol was long, tedious, and more of the same—checking the perimeter, clearing out old trouble spots down his trail, making sure everything was as it should be, and scouring supplies. A welcome distraction. When he stopped by Ellie’s as usual, she narrowed her eyes at him from behind her sketchbook, muttering something about how he looked like shit.

“Didn’t sleep,” was all he said. And she didn’t bother to press. Ellie was another long, welcome, more pesky distraction.

By the time evening rolled around, he’d fallen back into his routine. Routine. That was what mattered. He groomed his horse, rubbing his hands along its mane just to keep them busy. He cleaned his rifle, making sure the gears weren't easy to jam and stopped to pick up some new gear at the store. He grabbed a whiskey—alone—just to take the edge off, slowing down for a bit.

He finished the evening like always, grabbing a boxed dinner from the mess hall, not bothering to make small talk. No one asked anything of him, and he didn’t offer anything in return. A night like any other. Something he repeated to himself, just to ground himself to reality besides the weight of his breaking boots.

Then he saw her. Maria was still at that house, waiting by the porch swing, face tense. She spotted him almost instantly and strode straight toward him.

Joel nodded at her in greeting, shifting the box under his arm. "You good?"

Maria didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Sure. Got a second?”

He tipped his chin toward Leela’s door. "All set over there?"

“Far from it.” Her voice was tight, laced with something he didn’t like. “I need your help.”

Joel scoffed. “What’s the punchline?”

But Maria didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smirk. Instead, she followed him inside his house.

Joel's 'home' was nothing special—functional, practical. Just a space to exist in. A couch pushed against one wall which he used more than the bed upstairs, a table he used out of necessity, a kitchen stocked with the bare minimum. Not much to look at, or even stay for long. It wasn't home, but it was enough. Certainly nothing like Leela’s home, where history bled through the worn floorboards, through the walls, a place that had been lived in.

Joel didn’t let himself think about it too much. He dropped the box of food onto the table, turning to Maria with his arms crossed.

“Well?”

Maria sighed, staring out the window toward Leela’s house. The porch light flickered weakly, and the house itself looked darker than it had last night. Like it had collapsed in on itself a little more.

“She’s not okay, Joel.”

Joel huffed, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve, pretending not to hear the implication behind those words. “Figured.”

“No,” Maria said, sharper this time. “I mean it.”

She turned back to him, her eyes shadowed with something heavier than just concern. She looked tired—worn—in a way that wasn’t just about the town or the thousand responsibilities on her shoulders. It was personal.

Joel exhaled through his nose, already feeling the walls closing in on this conversation.

Maria rubbed a hand over her face. “She’s disturbed. I don’t think she’s had a proper meal in days. She’s having trouble breastfeeding, let alone keeping herself together enough to care for that baby.” She shook her head. “I can’t be there all the time. I’ve got the whole town to run, a hundred things to look after. Tommy’s drowning in work. We're stretched thin as it is.” Her eyes met his, steady and pointed. “You’re my last resort.”

Joel frowned, jaw ticking. “And do what, exactly? Pretend like I've done this dance before?”

“Just be there,” Maria said so positively, like it wasn’t the worst fucking idea in the world. “Make sure she doesn’t slip up with the baby. Help where you can. Just a few days—until Tommy and I can step in.”

Joel dragged a hand down his beard, exhaling slowly. “You have got to be shitting me. You want me to play babysitter.”

Everything in him wanted to refuse. He’d done his part here. Hell, more than his part. He didn’t owe that woman anything. She had a nice home. Pretty face. She had her newborn. And if she didn’t know how to handle it, that was on her. He wasn’t looking to take on another burden. Christ, wasn’t he supposed to be done with this kind of thing? Wasn’t he past the point of taking in lost causes?

But Maria didn’t look like she was giving him a choice. Her voice softened, dropping to something quieter, edged with meaning. “I don’t think she had this baby with someone she knew, Joel.”

Joel stiffened. Maria’s expression didn’t change, but there was something unspoken there, something heavy, something that didn’t need to be stated outright. Still, it landed in his gut like a stone.

She let the silence stretch, let him fill in the gaps. And he did.

“I hope you understand what I'm getting at,” she continued. “I don’t think she wanted this at all.”

Joel clenched his jaw, staring at the floor, pretending like he didn’t hear them. He didn't ask how she knew, didn’t even ask what she’d seen in that house today that had led her to that conclusion.

Because he already knew. He’d seen it, too.

The way Leela couldn’t bring herself to name the baby. The way she looked at the child was like she was something fragile, something unfamiliar, something that didn’t belong to her. The way she had looked at him—not with resentment, not with anger, but with resignation.

Like she was handing over the baby because she genuinely believed it was the only way to save her. A fist of darkness curled in his stomach.

He knew what it was like to lose a child. He knew what it did to a person, how it tore through you, how it hollowed them out from the inside. But whatever this was, it wasn’t grief. This was something worse. He prayed he would never have to deal with this.

This was a woman standing on the edge of the deep and the dark, staring down into it, wondering how much further she could fall before there was no coming back. And there was a baby—a fucking baby—at her feet. Yet, she was ready to take that fall.

Joel exhaled, slow and heavy, rubbing the back of his neck.

But the truth was, he’d already stepped in. Already gotten himself involved. Whether out of desperation or some obstinate, buried need to fix things that were beyond saving, he wasn’t sure. And now, if he walked away, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with the consequences.

Suddenly, the room felt smaller, the walls a little tighter. A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, reluctantly, he sighed. “This is a big fucking mistake, Maria. I'm the last person who should be over there with her.”

Maria nodded, hearing what she needed to hear, relief flickering across her face. “You'll figure it out. I'll be around if you need anything. Thank you.”

Joel didn’t answer. He didn't know what the hell he’d just agreed to, but something in his gut told him it was going to end real bad.

X

Morning light washed over his neighbour's house, soft and cold, as Joel made his way up the steps. It must’ve been the perfect little home once, back when the world was still whole—white clapboard, modest porch with a swingset, somewhere that had been waiting too long for someone to come back home. A place built to last. And maybe, before seasons and silence collapsed, it had.

But time had sunk its teeth in. The paint had started peeling in the corners, the wood of the steps groaned under his boots, and though the windows were clean, there was something hollow about the way they sat in their frames as if no one had looked out of them in a long time. It didn’t have the neglect of a broken-down house, but rather the hush of a place that had lost something vital.

And the front door was open again.

Joel clenched his jaw.

Maria had been right—that girl really didn’t have a single clue.

He pushed the door wider and stepped inside, careful, slow, not wanting to seem intrusive but unable to stop himself from taking in the room. It wasn’t what he expected.

Her home wasn’t cluttered, wasn’t in disarray, but there was something about it that felt… off. A mind too busy to bother with the details of living. Against one wall stood two large blackboards hung haphazardly over shelves, filled with complex math equations, numbers and symbols scrawled out in clean, sharp lines. A few pieces of chalk lay scattered at the base, alongside crumpled papers and a wastebasket that never quite caught them. Shelves held solved Rubik’s cubes, closed notebooks, and empty pens stuck upright in a pen stand. On the table, a coffee mug sat with dried stains at the bottom, an imprint of hands that had used it over and over, mindlessly, then set it aside without a thought.

Joel frowned, taking it all in.

A fucking scientist. That was the last thing he’d ever have guessed about her. Dr Leela last-name-something, the resident nerd mom.

He didn’t know what he expected when he climbed the stairs, only that something about the house still put him on edge. It wasn’t just the oddity of it—the blackboards filled with numbers, the pages of equations scattered like fallen leaves—it was the fact that none of it felt lived in. Clinical. Like the house had been built to serve a purpose, but never for a person.

He reached the top step just as he heard the baby girl’s soft fussing from down the hall. The sound made him hesitate. It wasn’t the sharp, desperate cries from the night before. This was softer, almost a coo, the kind of sound that made something in his chest tighten before he could push it down.

Carefully, he stepped forward, peering into the nursery.

Leela stood by the cradle, one hand rubbing slow, absentminded circles over the baby’s tiny stomach. It was almost an imitation of what he’d done the night before, but the difference was clear—where his movements had been firm, knowing, hers were unsure, like she was following a set of instructions she didn’t quite understand.

She looked different in the daylight. Dressed neatly in a long, thin nightgown that fell to her ankles, her black hair was left loose, unbrushed, hanging past her hips in uneven waves, obviously never seen the business end of a scissor. The exhaustion was still there—was part of her, woven into how she held herself—but her face was smoother, her shoulders less rigid, like she had settled into something.

The floorboard groaned beneath his boot. Leela looked up. She even tried for a small smile. A little, ghostly quirk of her lips.

“Hello, Joel.”

He didn’t respond. Something about how she looked at him, or maybe how she looked past him, unsettled him. He didn’t like feeling that way—not in someone else’s home, not when he was meant to be in control of the situation. Instead of answering, he stepped toward the cradle, glancing down at the baby.

The baby girl let out a high-pitched whine, stretching, her fingers curling and uncurling before she kicked her little legs. Then, as if noticing him, her mouth widened into a gummy, toothless grin, her round face alight, untouched by the world’s cruelty.

Joel couldn’t help himself. His lips twitched, just slightly, before he shook his head.

“Managed to—?” He gestured vaguely toward her chest before pulling his hand back, curling it into an embarrassed fist against the cradle.

Leela caught on. Her fingers twitched at the pearly buttons of her nightgown. Just a small, involuntary movement.

“Oh… Maria told me to hold her close to stimulate… you know.” She hesitated, shifting her weight. “I fed her one of the bottles she gave me, too.”

Joel nodded. “And?”

Leela looked down at the baby. “She stopped crying.”

He frowned. “That’s it?”

Leela’s fingers tightened against her arms. “I… don’t know how to hold her without making her cry.”

The words made something dark flicker through him, he didn’t have the energy to name it. It wasn’t quite anger, but it was close. Frustration. Exasperation. A sharp-edged bitterness he couldn’t swallow down fast enough.

Joel scoffed. “You can’t hold your own baby?”

Leela looked away, her heart breaking in her eyes before she managed to mask it.

Joel exhaled, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “It’s not all math,” he muttered.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, he reached into the cradle, slipping a hand beneath the baby’s head, cradling her against his arm, careful, practised. He eased her up, letting her body settle against his forearm, her head resting in the crook of his elbow.

The second she was in his arms, something inside him cracked.

She was tiny. So fucking tiny. Tinier than Sarah had been.

Joel swallowed thickly, feeling the light weight of her against his chest. He hadn’t held something this fragile in years—hadn’t let himself. But muscle memory took over before he could stop it before he could remind himself that this wasn’t the same. It was already clawing its way back to him. He rubbed a slow, steady hand over her back, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. She was warm and soft, her tiny fingers twitching against his shirt.

For a second—a half a second—he let himself sink into it.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispered.

The scent of her, like the faded remnants of old cotton, the delicate press of her body against his. A ghost of something long lost. A time when his arms had been full like this when his days had been nothing but cradling Sarah against him, balancing a baby bag on his shoulder, and pushing a stroller down the sidewalk, filled with groceries, with the Texas sun overhead.

A different life. A different world. One he had no business remembering.

Joel forced himself to blink out of it. He cleared his throat, shifting, pressing the feeling down before it could take hold.

“And that’s it,” he said gruffly. “Ain’t that hard.”

Leela was watching him. Not like she was waiting for him to say something—not like she even expected him to. She was watching the way he held the baby, the way she settled so easily against him. Studying him, the way she studied numbers and equations, looking for a formula, an answer.

He breathed out. “Here,” he muttered, shifting the baby carefully toward her. “You try.”

Leela didn’t reach for her baby immediately.

Her hands hovered, hesitant, fingers twitching like she wasn’t sure how to move them. Joel could see it—the tension coiling in her shoulders, the stiffness in her posture. Her breathing shallowed, her chest barely rising, as if even that movement might disturb the delicate balance between her and the tiny life in front of her.

But finally, she forced herself to move.

Her hands, unsteady, cupped beneath the baby’s body as if she were handling something breakable, something foreign. It was careful, but too careful—unnatural in a way that the baby could sense. And sure enough, the second Leela pulled her in, her arms locked tight, too rigid, too unsure, and the child stirred. A tiny whimper. Then a sharp, warning cry.

Leela stiffened, her grip faltering. The sound made her flinch, her breath catching, as though she’d been struck.

She barely lasted five seconds before her resolve cracked. She was already shifting forward, already pushing the baby back toward Joel, who took her without hesitation.

The crying stopped almost instantly.

Joel settled the baby against his chest, bouncing her gently, a practised movement. He didn’t have to think about it—his body just did what it knew, routine kicking in where hers faltered. The baby let out a soft, sighing coo, her tiny body relaxing, as if she knew she was back in capable hands.

Leela, however, looked shaken. Not in a dramatic way—she wasn’t crying, wasn’t breaking down—but her hands curled into fists, pressing against her stomach like she needed to hold herself together.

Then, she winced.

Joel’s attention snapped back to her, his gaze dropping to the way she clutched at her lower back, her body tilting forward ever so slightly like the pain had taken her by surprise.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “You wanna sit down?”

She nodded, barely. A tiny dip of her chin.

Joel glanced around. There wasn’t much in the nursery. Just the crib, a long wooden bureau, and a mattress on the floor pushed against the far wall. No chair, nothing to lower herself onto easily.

With a quiet sigh, he adjusted his hold on the baby and stepped closer, offering an arm. “C’mon.”

Leela hesitated. Not out of pride—he could tell—but maybe out of uncertainty like she wasn’t used to being helped. But when she tried to move on her own, another sharp grimace crossed her face, and that was enough.

She let him guide her.

Joel was careful, supporting her weight without making a big deal of it. The baby stayed nestled in the crook of his other arm, still resting peacefully, unaffected by the movement. It wasn’t easy—manoeuvring both of them at once—but it was instinctual.

He helped her lower onto the mattress, feeling the way her muscles tensed beneath his touch before finally giving in to the pull of exhaustion. Leela eased back against the wall and settled into the thin cushion. A long, quiet sigh left her lips, her posture unwinding slightly like she’d been holding herself taut for hours—maybe longer. But even then, she still didn’t entirely relax.

Joel watched as she lifted a hand to her face, brushing back loose strands of hair, her fingers pressing briefly into her temples.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

He frowned. “For what?”

She inhaled deeply. “It’s only been three... four weeks since I delivered. I’ve just been feeling out of it ever since.”

There was no shame in her tone, no self-pity. Just a quiet fatigue. A statement of fact.

Joel pressed his lips together.

Four weeks. Jesus. That explained a lot. The exhaustion, the stiffness in her movements, the way her body still seemed like it hadn’t recovered from what it had been through. Hell, no wonder she looked like a ghost of herself. The human body wasn’t meant to bounce back that fast—not without help. And from what he’d seen so far, she wasn’t the type to ask for it.

“She came too soon,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Leela shifted, tilting her head slightly toward him. "Eight months," she said, voice softer now. "That’s not normal, is it? It’s why she’s so tiny."

Joel didn’t answer immediately. Leela waited, like she wanted him to say more. When he didn’t, she tucked her knees up onto the couch, resting her chin against them.

She rubbed a tired hand into her eyes. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

There it was. Not frustration. Not helplessness. Just quiet, resigned truth.

Joel glanced down at the sleeping baby, still curled against his chest, her breathing soft and even. One tiny hand had fisted itself into his shirt, gripping instinctively—like she knew, on some level, that she had to hold on to something, someone, to stay safe. His grip on her tightened slightly.

Leela’s words sat heavy in his chest. I don’t know how to hold her without making her cry. And now this—I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. He’d heard new parents say those words before. Hell, he’d felt it himself, back then. But something about the way she said it—flat, detached, like she wasn’t even fighting it anymore—made something inside him go stiff.

Joel breathed out, shifting his arms so the baby settled more comfortably against him, and she felt so heavy all of a sudden.

Too much quiet, too many things unsaid pressing at the edges of his mind. He didn’t want to sit in it—didn’t want to acknowledge what it stirred in him. So, he broke the silence the only way he knew how.

"You could start by giving her a name," he said, glancing at Leela. "Not that 'baby girl' is a terrible name."

Leela blinked, then looked down at her daughter, studying her as if she were just now realizing that, yes, she still had to name the kid.

After a thoughtful moment, she lifted her gaze back to him. "Do you want to pick one for her?"

Joel snorted. "Me?"

She nodded, entirely serious.

He shook his head. "I think I'm gonna stick with 'baby girl.'"

Leela let out a small breath of laughter, barely there, but it softened something in her face. She bit her lip, thinking of a name, then murmured, "I always liked the name Maya."

"Maya?" He tested the name on his lips. "I like that. Maya. It’s pretty. Rhymes, too. Leela, Maya."

Leela’s lips twitched at that, and she shifted forward, moving closer without thinking, drawn in by something unspoken. She leaned down, head dipping toward the baby still curled up against Joel’s chest.

And for the first time since he stepped into this house, Joel saw it.

That fondness. It was small, but it was there—the quiet, aching kind of love that didn’t need words. The kind that made itself known in the way her fingers smoothed over the baby’s forehead, tracing delicate lines across her tiny features. In the way her body curled just slightly, instinctively, around her daughter, like even in her exhaustion, she was drawn to protect.

"Maya, Maya, Maya," she whispered, barely a sound, breathing the name into her daughter's ear as if speaking it into existence.

Joel watched her for a long moment, an unfamiliar phantom kick in his ribs. It was too much. Too close to something he didn’t want to touch, something that felt like the past reaching for him with cold fingers.

He should leave. He knew he should. Should’ve gotten up, handed the baby back, given some half-hearted promise to Maria that he’d check in, and then walked out that door.

But he didn’t. Instead, he settled in a little more, stretching his legs out, arms still loosely cradling the child.

He finally broke the silence with, “So, you’re some kind of scientist?”

Leela glanced up at him, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m more towards math.”

Joel frowned. Math. In a world like this?

People didn’t survive with numbers. They survived with bullets and knives, knowing when to run and when to pull the trigger. You either killed or died. You either protected or raided. You didn’t see too many folks walking around trying to save themselves with goddamned math equations—unless they were Fireflies with delusions of rebuilding the world. That was the kind of thinking that got you shot.

His gaze flickered back to the crib. What the hell kind of life was she leading before all this?

He leaned back against the wall. “And just how long have you been here alone?”

“A long time.” She didn’t elaborate. Just glanced down at the baby, adjusting the folds of the swaddle with careful fingers. Then, softer, almost like an afterthought—“Not anymore.”

Joel didn’t know what to make of that.

His gaze flicked toward the stacks of books on the baby’s bureau, thick with dust on the edges but well-thumbed through. He hummed. “And you do… math?” He made it sound ridiculous because it was.

She only nodded, unbothered. “Analytic geometry and a bit of mechanics. My parents used to work at NASA. I took up their research once I was old enough to understand. They loved to teach me all about it.”

Joel blinked. NASA? Ellie would lose her little mind if she were here.

He studied her again, reassessing. She didn’t look like someone who used to be involved in something that big. Not now, anyway. Dressed in an old nightgown, her hair hanging in dark, tangled waves, bruised-looking eyes that made her seem older than she was.

He hesitated before asking, “And just how old are you?”

“I’m turning thirty soon.” She didn’t sound glad about it. Then again, no one ever did.

But there was something about that number that made his stomach turn. Maybe because of all her intelligence, all her sharp, clinical detachment, she looked young under the weight of everything she was carrying. Or maybe because twenty-nine didn’t seem old enough to have gone through the kind of hell that made a mother flinch at her own baby.

Joel wanted to press further. Wanted to ask why she was alone, how the hell she had made it this long without the baby’s father, how a girl who could do math for NASA ended up here—malnourished, exhausted, hunched over on a mattress like she was carrying the whole world on her back.

But before he could, Maya stirred.

A small, sleepy movement. Tiny fingers wriggled their way free from the swaddle, barely curled, stretching toward the air. The whimpering started softly, then built, that newborn cry that was both fragile and urgent all at once.

Leela straightened instinctively, her hands twitching toward her daughter. But this time, when she lifted Maya from Joel’s arms, she didn’t hesitate. She held her with a little more certainty, a little more care, cradling her close to her chest as if she were nestling something precious rather than foreign.

Joel let out a slow breath. Good. Progress.

Then, before he could so much as glance back up, Leela started unbuttoning her nightgown, the lapel falling open.

His eyes snapped away so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. “Christ.”

“Oh, god—! I’m so sorry, Maria said to try—”

“’Sall good,” he muttered, fixing his gaze firmly on the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at her. “Just, uh—go for it.”

“I’ll cover up. Sorry.”

Joel nodded stiffly, still keeping his head turned. But in the silence that followed, his body didn’t quite relax.

He listened. Not just to her, but to everything. The rustle of fabric, the faint, uncertain exhale as she adjusted her hold, the wet, rhythmic sound of the baby nursing, the occasional tiny sigh. A noise so small it barely existed, but it filled the quiet all the same.

Joel let out a breath through his nose, sinking into himself, gaze flickering absently around the room. He took in the details he hadn’t paid much attention to before.

The crib—old, but sturdy. The mess of books stacked against the walls, as if she had been trying to build some kind of fortress out of paper and ink. The curtains were drawn too tight, like she didn’t want the outside world bleeding in. And the emptiness—the distinct lack of anything that made this place a nursery. No toys. No clutter. No warmth.

He knew that kind of space. Knew what it meant when a room felt temporary, even when someone had been in it for years.

“I’m decent now.” Her voice was quiet but certain.

Joel glanced over his shoulder. A blanket was draped over one of Leela’s shoulders, concealing both her and the baby beneath it. His eyes traced over her face, the way she was staring down at Maya—not with the ease of a mother who had done this a hundred times, but with the focus of someone trying to get it right. Like she was handling some delicate equation she couldn’t afford to miscalculate.

The baby suckled noisily, and Joel saw the way Leela’s fingers curled against the fabric, white-knuckled.

"Do you have many children, Joel?" she asked suddenly.

He stilled. The question—simple, almost offhanded—landed like a hammer.

His fingers curled against his knee, tightening. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d asked himself that. But coming from her—a woman he barely knew, holding a baby that wasn’t much more than a handful of weeks old—it hit differently.

Did he have many children? No.

But he had one. Had. That word sat on his tongue, sour and heavy, pressing against the backs of his teeth. He could say it. Could let it out, let it breathe. But if he did, it would only linger, thick and unwelcome, in the air between them.

He grunted out, “Not your concern.”

Leela nodded once, quiet and accepting. She didn’t pry, didn’t press—just dropped her gaze back to Maya, adjusting the blanket with slow, careful fingers.

“I understand,” she murmured.

Joel wasn’t sure why, but he believed her. Maybe it was the way she said it—flat, unbothered. Not some empty reassurance, not some half-hearted attempt at sympathy. Just a statement. Honest. And somehow, that made it worse.

Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable.

Joel let out a slow breath and glanced toward the window, toward the faint light filtering through the edges of the curtain. The town was waking up. People were starting their day, going about their lives. Normal. Simple. This? Sitting here in this too-empty house with a woman he didn’t know and a baby who had seen too much of the world already? This wasn’t simple.

Then, her voice—quiet, hesitant.

"Did your baby ever feel like a stranger?"

He turned to look at her, watching as she nursed the baby beneath the blanket. Her head was slightly bowed, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing slow, rhythmic circles against the tiny foot poking free. It was such a small, natural gesture—one he’d seen a thousand times from mothers who loved their children without thought, without hesitation. And yet, coming from her, it felt… disconnected. As if she was mimicking something she wasn’t sure she believed in.

The question settled deep in his chest, pressing against something sore.

"Never." The answer came without thinking. Without doubt.

Sarah had never been a stranger. From the second she was in his arms, slick and tiny and furious at the world, she was his. He hadn’t known what the hell he was doing, but love—love had been instant, bone-deep. A gut punch. A freefall. A terrifying, irreversible thing. It had been impossible not to love his daughter.

That’s how it should feel. But Leela—she looked like she was still waiting to wake up from a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

Leela exhaled softly, barely a sound, but Joel caught it. It hit him harder than it should have.

"I wish I felt that way," she muttered.

That did something to him.

It wasn’t pity, exactly—Leela didn’t seem like the kind of woman who wanted pity. No, it was a knowing. A recognition of something lost, something stolen before it ever had a chance to be hers. Joel had lost things, too. He understood that kind of grief, even if this one wasn’t his to carry.

Leela had slipped back into that blank, distant sadness, like she was stuck in it, unable to claw her way out. And Joel wasn’t the kind of man who offered words where they wouldn’t make a difference, but Maria had asked him to help, and he’d told her he would. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing. He never had been. Words were never easy for him. Feelings even less so. But he knew how to read people, how to see what they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

So, he did what he could.

"She looks like you," Joel mused, almost without thinking.

Leela hesitated, blinking at him like she wasn’t sure she’d heard right. "You really think so?"

He smirked, nodding toward Maya. "Look at that. The eyes, the nose, the hair. That’s all a mama’s girl."

She glanced down at the baby in her arms, her fingers stilling against Maya’s tiny foot. For a second, something in her expression wavered—like she was trying to see what he saw, trying to find herself in this child. "Mama’s girl," she murmured, testing the words on her tongue as if they didn’t quite belong to her yet.

Joel felt something shift in his chest, just a little.

It was something.

Still, his eyes drifted over the room, taking in the stark walls, the empty corners. The air in here was cold—not from the weather, but from the lack of anything. There was no sign of her in this space. No warmth, no comfort, no life. It felt temporary, like she hadn’t put down roots. Like she was waiting for something.

Or maybe like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to stay.

He exhaled, tipping his chin toward the crib. "Though, she’s gonna be real disappointed when she sees the state her mama’s kept her room in."

Leela’s brows knit together as she looked around as if really seeing it for the first time. "I tried my best. Is it that bad?"

Joel huffed, shaking his head. "It could use a little more work." He gestured toward the crib. "Fix another one of those." Then to the bare space near the window. "Somewhere to sit. Some shelves there." His gaze travelled to the walls. "Fresh coat of paint. Some new lights."

Leela studied him carefully, her lips pressing together. "I don’t want to impose."

He shrugged, leaning back on his palms. "You won't. I like to keep busy."

Leela gave him a look—one of those assessing, sceptical looks he was starting to recognize from her. The one that suggested she wasn’t sure if she could trust him yet. "Are you sure?"

Joel let out a short, dry chuckle. "I was a contractor before the world went to shit, sweetheart. This is a cushy job." Then he cocked a brow. "And I’m fifty-six, not dead."

Leela bit her lip to hide a teasing smile. "Could’ve fooled me."

Joel levelled her with a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You want me to take that crib back down?"

That did it. She laughed—an actual laugh. Not the polite kind. Not the uncertain kind. A real, full sound, one that cracked through the quietness of the room like sunlight breaking through clouds.

The motion jostled Maya, making her let out a startled cry of protest.

Leela immediately sobered, her expression softening as she adjusted the nursing baby under her blanket, tucking her closer. She began to coo under her breath, "Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Mama’s here."

Joel caught it. That shift again. That slight change in her voice when she said Mama. Like she wasn’t quite sure of it yet. But it wasn’t just an obligation or just guilt, or uncertainty.

This time, it sounded like she meant it.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t push. Just sat back and watched, letting her find her way.

X

Fifteen days.

That was how long he’d been here. How long he'd been wedging himself into a life that wasn’t his, in a house that wasn’t his, with a mother and child that weren’t his to take care of.

And yet, every night, when the baby cried, he found himself plodding up the stairs like it was instinct. He’d lean in the doorway, watching as Leela sleepily nursed Maya, her heavy arms curled around the tiny, wriggling body. Some nights, she fed her from the bottle, but as the days passed, that sipper gathered dust.

It was slow. Subtle. She was feeding her baby more.

And Joel—he was still fucking here. He didn’t think much about the why of it because he figured if he did, it would only lead to questions he wasn’t ready to answer. All he knew was that it felt natural, falling into this quiet rhythm with them. Like it had always been this way.

The couch downstairs became his bed. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it didn’t matter much. As long as he didn't throw his back out. It was easier than going back to an empty house. Leela, for her part, never asked him to stay, but she never told him to leave, either. Maybe that was her way of saying she wanted him around. Or maybe she just needed him to be.

"You don’t have to—" she had started one night, catching him setting up his makeshift bed.

"I know," he cut off before she could finish.

He kept his hands busy, too. That helped a lot.

The crib came first. A slow project, one he didn’t rush, because what else did he have to do? He sanded the edges and smoothed them down so there’d be no risk of splinters. He reinforced the frame, extended the width, and even managed to track down some pink paint to liven it up.

It was a stupid thing, but it made him feel like he was doing something. Like he was helping in a way that made sense.

Leela had caught him painting one afternoon, crouched over the crib with careful, measured strokes.

"Pink?" she’d said, standing in the doorway, one brow raised.

Joel had glanced up, brush still in hand. "What? You don’t like it?"

Leela had hummed, considering. Then, softer, "I think Maya will like it."

Something about the way she said it—like she was finally thinking about that, about what her daughter would like—made him grin to himself. He continued the long stroke of paint down the crib.

Then there was Leela. It had been easier, at first, to pretend he was only here for the kid. That his concern for her was secondary. But after the first week, it became clear—that wasn’t true.

She was unraveling.

Joel noticed it even when she thought he hadn’t. The unbearable insomnia. The way she startled awake like she was being wrenched from nightmares. The way her eyes stayed shadowed, dark-rimmed and tired, and how she never seemed to eat a full meal.

Just because he tried not to bother, didn’t mean he didn’t notice. She had once fallen asleep at the kitchen table, arms folded beneath her head. Joel had set a bowl of soup down in front of her, the sound making her jolt awake, eyes wide, gasping and panicked.

She blinked at him, disoriented, pushing her unruly hair out of her face. "I—I wasn’t sleeping."

"Alright," he said, pushing the plate closer. "Eat."

Leela wavered, nose scrunching. "I’m not—"

Joel shot her a look. "Eat."

She sighed. But she picked up the spoon.

He didn’t bother to push or pry any further. He stopped himself there. Because what the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn’t Tommy or Maria. He wasn’t the kind of person people confided in. It was better off this way.

So he willfully ignored it. Turned the other way when she wiped her eyes too hard when her shoulders shook just a little when those deep, muffled sobs filtered through the walls at night. Every part of him told him to cross that invisible line—to do something—but instead, he stepped outside, leaned against the stoop, stared at nothing.

One night, he heard it—soft at first, then breaking, like something deep inside her had finally snapped. Anyone reasonable would've gone up to comfort her. Fuck, it was already turning him inside out.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long moment, jaw tight, staring up at the dark landing.

Then he turned around, walked outside, and sat on the porch steps, letting the cold bite into him. Good. He huffed out a wispy breath, quietly waiting for the sounds to pass. This wasn’t his problem.

One unlucky day, the second he stepped into the stables, Ellie gave him a knowing, annoying look. "Jesus, what's worse than shit? Because that's what you look like."

Joel huffed, adjusting his grip on the saddle he was carrying. "Thanks, kid."

Ellie narrowed her eyes, stepping closer and giving him a once-over. "Seriously, you look like hell. Where the fuck have you been?"

Joel grunted, busying himself with the straps, not looking at her. "Been around."

Ellie scoffed. "Been around? What the hell does that mean? You've been busy playing house with the lady at the big house?"

His jaw flexed and fingers tightened on the cords. And Ellie caught it. Her smirk sharpened.

"Oh my God. That’s exactly what you’ve been doing, huh?"

Joel shot her a look. "No."

"Yes," Ellie drawled, crossing her arms. "Dude. I knew something was up. You’ve been MIA. I thought maybe you finally croaked in your sleep, but nope—turns out, you’re off fixing pipes and babysitting."

"I ain’t babysitting," Joel muttered, too quick.

Ellie smirked harder and drawled out, "Riiiight."

Joel let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, shaking his head. "She needed help. That’s all."

Ellie clicked her tongue, rocking back on her heels. "Hmm. Right. Just help. No attachment, no paternal instincts kicking in. Oh, definitely not. Not Joel Hardass Miller. He’s just the neighbourhood handyman now."

He cut her a sharp look. "Ellie."

She grinned, enjoying this way too much. "What? Just saying. It’s kind of adorable. Old man Joel, all domesticated. It's nice."

Joel muttered something under his breath and turned away, ignoring her. Oh, but she was far from done.

"So, uh…" she cleared her throat. "How’s the baby?"

He hesitated.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d started watching that kid. Listening to her. He knew Maya’s different cries now—hungry, fussy, lonely. He knew the way she liked to be held, the way she calmed when he rubbed her tiny back. And he knew, without a doubt, that he would hear her tonight, whether he was there or not.

"She’s uh, good," he said finally. Kept his voice level, unaffected. "Stronger. Sleeps better."

Ellie studied him. "Bet she likes you."

Joel shrugged, trying to play it off. "Babies like warm bodies, Ellie. Ain’t that deep."

Ellie snorted. "Sure. And you're a warm bundle of joy." And then, just when he thought she was about to let it go—"You’re gonna miss her, huh?"

Joel's hands dropped to his sides. Ellie wasn’t teasing anymore. Her voice had gone softer, something knowing creeping in.

And he didn’t answer. Because he wasn’t about to start thinking about that. About leaving. About hearing those cries and knowing he wasn’t supposed to be the one answering them anymore.

Joel slowly adjusted the saddle and grunted. "You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna help me get this horse ready?"

Ellie sighed, shaking her head, but didn’t push. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Dad."

"Ellie."

But she was already cackling her goddamned head off. "This is rich. Daddy Joel."

Still, Joel stayed in that big house. Just a few more days. And the more he stayed, the harder it became to keep his distance.

It had started small—fixing things around the house, making little adjustments to help Leela care for the baby, and bringing her food. He fashioned a sling for her out of an old scarf and showed her how to wear it. At first, she’d been rigid, reluctant. But Maya—baby girl took to it immediately, curling into her mother’s chest, small fingers grasping at the fabric.

Joel wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but something about that moment had stuck with him.

Because for the first time, he saw Leela hold her. Not just carry her.

And then there was Maya herself. The little ray of sunshine was growing, filling out. No longer that fragile, underfed thing he’d first seen in the cradle. Her limbs weren’t so thin anymore, her eyes brighter, more alert. She’d started watching things with intent—fixating on his hands when he worked, tracking his movement around the room, making little fists and clumsily bringing them to her mouth.

She smiled more, too. And it did something to him. It shouldn’t have.

He shouldn’t have felt that warm pull in his chest every time her tiny mouth curled into something resembling a grin. Shouldn’t have liked the way her whole body wriggled when she was excited. Shouldn’t have let himself get used to the small weight of her when Leela, in her exhaustion, wordlessly passed her to him, and he found himself rocking her without thinking.

But it had happened, slowly and without permission. And now, when he held her, it felt natural.

Maya knew him. Trusted him.

That realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

And then, on what must’ve been the third week, Tommy and Maria showed up at the door. Joel knew it the second he opened it—that this was an extraction.

Tommy stood there with that damn smirk, the same one he used to wear when Joel got him out of trouble—except this time, it wasn't his brother who had been looking for a way out.

"You're officially relieved of duty, big brother."

Joel grunted, letting his brother pull him into a quick hug. He clapped him on the back, but his grip was just a little too firm. A little too final. "Didn’t know I was on duty."

Maria stepped in next, squeezing his shoulder, her eyes warm with something Joel didn’t want to name. "Thank you, Joel."

He didn’t say you’re welcome. Didn’t say anything at all. Just gave a small nod, because that was easier than acknowledging the importance of what he’d done. No need to attach importance to what he was walking away from.

He felt Leela before he saw her.

She stood behind them by the front door, her arms loose at her sides, watching but not interfering. She was dressed in a warm sweater and pants this time, although he liked seeing her in that long nightdress of hers, the one with the pearl buttons.

She didn’t say anything. And neither did he. Because there was no point in goodbyes.

Instead, he gave her a nod—brief, almost impersonal—and then he turned, stepping off the porch, his boots heavier than they should’ve been.

Maria’s voice, quiet but clear, carried behind him as she spoke to Leela like she was approaching a wounded deer. "You feeling okay, baby? Come on, let’s talk."

Joel kept on walking. Crossed the street.

And for the first time in fifteen days, he realized—he didn’t want to go home. Because home meant silence. Home meant absence.

Home meant walking into a house where there was no tiny, fussy cry in the middle of the night. No bleary-eyed woman fumbling with a bottle, no soft, small weight curled against his chest when exhaustion finally won out.

For fifteen days, he had fallen into something. A rhythm. A purpose. A role. And now, as he stepped through his own front door, into the empty space that used to feel normal, Joel realized he’d done something reckless. Something he never should’ve allowed.

He’d let himself care.

X

read on: masterlist

[I really like this one, so much! I love how sweet it turned out, how JOEL of him it is, and how Leela is just that sweet, confused mother. I think I'm going to really love building on this one! ]

[ taglist : @cuntstiel , @bubblegumpeeeach , @evispunk ]

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up. 

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click. 

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel. 

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly. 

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down - 

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her. 

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street. 

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything. 

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’ 

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought - 

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical. 

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains. 

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below. 

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done. 

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen. 

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder. 

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes. 

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean. 

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim. 

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck. 

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto. 

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something. 

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table. 

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips. 

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile. 

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it. 

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door. 

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual. 

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat. 

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’ 

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him. 

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you. 

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: The Marks You Saw

Pairing: Joel x f!reader (formerly Tommy x f!reader). Word Count: 2.1k+ Warning: Alcohol mention. Drugs mention. Emotional word vomit. Author's Note: And you can tell a friend to tell a friend...she's baaaaack. Not really but I have been dealing with some heavy stressors at work and in my personal life that has stunted my writing so it felt good to get something out that I'm actually proud of. I think? Anyway... no beta, we die like men.

“Do you ever see me?”

Leaning back, you assess the man across from you—the scar that’s nicked into his eyebrow, the freckles that are scattered like spray paint across his nose.

The deep brown, almost black, of his eyes that match his brother’s.

Your daughter’s.

“I'm looking at you right now,” you say and it’s immediately apparent that’s not what he meant.

But you knew that.

“No, sweetheart—“

“I asked you not to call me that,” you remind him. “That's not who we are to one another anymore, Tommy.”

A terse nod.

“And no, I do not see you when I’m with him.”

“Did you ever?”

Did you ever?

Did you?

It’s been so long.

Pushing out a breath, you suggest that maybe you did in the beginning. “I was devastated, Tommy,” you say. “I was imagining the worst things possible, I was having waking nightmares which”—you laugh—“says a lot given the state of our world today. Especially in the Zone.”

His eyes take on that glassy look, the one he gets when he thinks too hard or sits for too long. The same way his brother’s do.

Something you hope your daughter will never mirror.

“But never me? Never now?”

He’s so still, you wish he would move or stand—breathe. It’s still so weird to see him breathing, to see him talking. Instead he just sits there on the other side of the small living room where the only thing that seems to rise and fall is his gaze on every part of you not covered by the threadbare fabric of twenty year old clothes.

“Tommy, I saw you dead and then I saw white, hot blinding rage. But I didn’t go to your brother as a replacement for you, I went because you told me to. If you’re still holding a grudge, I suggest you find whatever’s left of a mirror and confront yourself about it because I didn’t do anything wrong and neither did he.”

“But—“

“Tommy,” you cut him off, “I will always love you but I will never again love you like I did.”

Another nod and he finally does move, readjusting himself slightly in the chair as if he’s uncomfortable. But this discomfort is his own fault. You tell him so as soon as he even dares to say it.

“At some point, Tommy, you have to find closure because we cannot keep having these conversations—“

“Because it’ll hurt my brother’s feelings?”

“Because it’s hurting you, it’s hurting me to hurt you like this over and over again. And, yes, it hurts Joel. If I had ran into your arms when you showed up out of nowhere, he would have stepped to the side and remained quiet and let you back into my life. He still would. He is still afraid that I will decide he is too far gone and too fucked up and he will wake up to an empty bed and an empty crib because I went back to you.”

“Because I’m so easy?” He asks. And, somehow, it’s the first time you smell the whiskey stuck so heavily to him.

At no point during the day have you seen him drinking. Not out in the gardens or the community center. He didn’t even smell like this when he showed up here and you didn’t think his presence was due to anything other than not wanting to be alone.

But that’s as far as memory can serve. Because your attention and all your senses have been occupied by other activities.

Like the smell of the stables when Miri wanted to see the horses.

Or the smell in the crook of her neck, the smell that lingers in her hair.

Pulling her sleeping form tight to your chest, you inhale it again—the soft baby smell that’s going away.

“You are far from easy, Thomas Miller,” you say. “An easy man wouldn’t torture himself like this. But that’s what you’ve always wanted, Tommy. You want to be some complicated soul who saves the day. You already did. Me, Joel, Miri… we’re all here.”

Tommy inhales, deep, and stands to his full height. “I should leave you,” he says, before laughing and pushing both hands through his hair. “I guess I already did that though, huh?”

“Tommy…”

Stopping at the door, he takes another deep breath, his broad back expanding and deflating just as fast as he says, “more and more, I see my brother wearing the same marks you used to give me but it’s different.” A hiccup escapes its way from deep within his chest and he turns until his back is to the door. “He is covered in you in every way I always thought I was.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

His head shakes. “No, I-I think I’m trying to apologize to you.”

Looking down again into Miriam’s fragile, sleeping face, you see all the parts of her father truly starting to take shape across her features. Golden skin with a smattering of freckles; a strong nose set against soft cheeks—perfect, gentle little girl who looks like such an imperfect but gentle man.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you say but when you look back for Tommy, he’s already slipped through the door to make the short walk back across the street to his own home.

Purple blooms beneath the golden skin just below his ear, in that spot that smells most like him. By now, it’s about as permanent as any tattoo ever was because you spend your days and nights putting it there.

But not just there.

He has marks along his collarbone, marks bitten into his chest and shoulders and the side of his hand.

Some happened as a byproduct of stifling your pleasure against his skin. Others because you didn’t catch the moans in time so he had to do it for you. But, if you’re being honest, all of them are a subtle way of saying back off.

Not just to the curious eyes of the horny, lonelier women in the compound but to the world, too.

After all, all these bruises sucked into his flesh are the same purple-red of the knotted scars that have risen like unwelcome mountains across his body.

Your way of saying lust-filled eyes can’t have him and neither can the earth.

Your way of saying mine.

He came home far too late with eyes way too tired. He showered, rubbed mint soap across his body and tried so hard to be quiet on his big, heavy feet. But you were already up, eyes open to stare at the wall while you waited for him to come to bed and the only thing that kept running through your mind is Tommy’s question.

“He asked me if I still saw him,” you whisper across the short distance between where you lay.

“You see him all the time,” Joel says lazily, one arm draped across your body. “Hell, you could go see him right now. Just open the window and throw a rock at his.”

“Joel, you know what he meant,” you say.

“I do,” he affirms. “And I think about the possibility enough already so I don’t need to commiserate it with the target of all my greatest fears.”

A beat passes and his breathing begins to even out and, when you ask him if Tommy is really his biggest fear, you hope he’s already asleep so he doesn’t have to answer it.

So you don’t have to hear it.

Instead, Joel pushes up onto his elbow, body coming to hover over yours as he flips you back into the mattress and says, “he is now.”

“Why?” You ask, circling the edge of one of those darker patches etched into his skin. “Why would Tommy be your biggest fear when you know what’s out there?”

He shrugs and the movement of his body slips your touch further down, over the ridge of the scar to shatter the illusion that it could’ve been just another one of yours. They all look the same in the dark.

In the dark, he was never hurt.

“My brother is always going to love you and he’s always going to think our daughter should be his,” he says. “He's always going to be the first one of us that you loved.”

“That Tommy is gone,” you say. You don’t know how many times you have to say it.

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“It should be the way I look at you that matters,” you tell him. “It should always only ever be the way that I look at you.”

Joel smiles, that lone dimple pocketing his left cheek, as he drops himself down across you and all of his weight from all of this world comes down with him as your arms wrap around his neck with fingers tangled into wild, unkempt curls that have gone so gray.

That’s when his breathing does even out, soft snores overtaking him as you keep lying there and looking at the ceiling.

In the dark, he was never hurt and it hits you then that the dark is the only place Tommy lets himself hurt.

Sunrises aren’t your thing but you’re already up and dressed by the time it comes around. Usually, by the time you wake, most of the compound is up and working—playing in the sun where you don’t like to be.

For so long, night hasn’t been safe. Not even back in Boston. But here? It’s safe for you. He was never hurt in the dark, your face was never gray and bloodshot in the dark. Miri never had to see her parents falling apart in the dark.

That’s where Tommy finds you. Sitting on the rickety old bench outside in his yard, watching your breath swirl through the air in the early morning light, your feet kicking like a little kid’s.

“You're up early,” he drawls. He sounds like shit.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say.

“You want coffee?” He asks.

“That depends,” you say, “you still slipping Seth’s rust bucket”—your nose scrunches—“whatever he has the audacity to call that in there?”

Tommy smiles for the first time in a while. “It's alcohol,” he says.

“It's piss,” you retort. “And no, I don’t want that or the coffee it goes in. I just need to say something to you.”

He moves to sit before you stop him, pulling back further into the old, worn wood as you push your hand out. If he’s hurt about that, he doesn’t let it show.

“I’m giving you until the end of the day to toss every drop of everything you’re hoarding,” you tell him. “The pills, the booze. I find it incredibly disconcerting that we’ve made it this far in a world without everything that you’ve been able to find it.”

“Swee—“

“No,” you cut him off. “I let you do a whole lot of speaking last night, Tommy, and I let you hurt me. I have continued to let you hurt me and hurt my husband and I will not let you do that any longer. I don’t care that you’re a grown man, I don’t care that you blame me for this broken heart of yours, but I do care about you. Because, yeah, I put myself all over him. I dig my nails and my teeth and the heels of my feet into him every chance I get. But I do it because of you.”

“To make me jealous?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

Laughing, your head shakes. “Because I lost you,” you tell him. “All I had was a note that said you wanted better for me and all I thought about was how it really meant you wanted better than me. You pushed yourself out into this world without so much as a goodbye and you had no parts of me stuck to you reminding you to come home. I don’t make that mistake with Joel.”

“He's the better for you.” It’s not a question. Tommy Miller may be a lot of things but he is not a dumb man.

“Yeah,” you affirm, pushing off the bench to stand, “and I need you to get your shit together so you can find the better than me.”

He doesn’t speak, there’s no response even as you step back towards your own house across the street but it doesn’t matter and you won’t hear it.

Quietly, you push the door closed, toeing off your shoes at the entrance and pulling each layer from your body before crawling back into the bed you left an hour ago.

And if Joel noticed, if he woke up, it didn’t keep him that way. He doesn’t stir when you force your cold body back beneath his either. It’s enough to bring a very silent prayer forward from your lips to the same ceiling you stared at for so long last night.

The Tommy that could’ve been died in your heart a long time ago and it’s about time the one who scares Joel does, too.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 18

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker @bunniboo0015 @demonsasss

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 17

“You were not supposed to receive that NDA, Joel. I was going to take care of it…” Angela tried, placing her hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the man actively avoiding Joel’s eyes, trying to get him out of her office.

Tommy took a step back, blocking the door.

“Aunt Angie? You realize this was the guy who assaulted Lily? You know him? He’s your nephew?” Tommy snarled, looking at Angela in disbelief.

“It’s a misunderstanding guys, it wasn’t supposed to escalate…” Angela finally answered, after a very long, tense, silence.

“What are you talking about? What was supposed to happen?” Tommy asked, seeing his brother unable to speak from his rage. Tess was staying close, worried the man might hulk out. Neither she nor Tommy had ever seen him this angry.

It turned out, Angela had called her financially strapped nephew, Eddie, after seeing the four of you at dinner that night. He was nearby, and Angela offered him free use of one of her low limit credit cards in exchange for doing that. He was only supposed to harass you and Joel verbally, basically annoy you, or maybe make Joel angry and show his ‘true colours’, make you think twice about spending time with him. But the guy got too excited, went too far, and got physical with you instead. When things went wrong, she made sure to use her resources to delete every single footage from the internet, steering Joel and Tommy away from probing into the matter further, seemingly succeeding before Tommy let slip that Sarah might have a copy. It was the reason she was so hellbent on getting her hands on Sarah’s phone. She even installed a malware on the new phone she got for Sarah to replace her broken one, intent on getting access to Sarah’s cloud. That went to pot, Tommy was too suspicious.

“All that because you didn’t want Lily to spend time with Joel?” Tommy asked, shaking his head.

“There’s something about her, guys… I just don’t trust her. I don’t believe she’s good for Joel!”

“You were all buddy-buddy with her lately, but she’s not good for Joel?” Tommy’s voice was rising higher and higher every time he spoke. “What’s that got to do with the NDA? Did you sign it?” he asked Joel, who simply shook his head, eyes still on Angela, looking as if he was plotting her murder and body disposal all at the same time. “So you forged his signature? You know that’s a crime, right? What did Lily say when you gave her the NDA? You told us you hadn’t seen her!”

Angela kept quiet.

Tess opened the door to the office. “Excuse me, what’s your name?” Tess peeked outside, asking the young man who gave Joel the NDA.

“Andrew, miss.”

“Will you come in here?”

Andrew walked in, looking bewildered.

“Who served this to Miss Stevens?” Joel asked, picking up the NDA.

“I did, Mr Miller. Ms Maddison asked me to deliver it and wait for her to sign it.”

If looks could kill, Andrew would be dead several times over, given how Angela was glaring at him.

“You saw her? Where?” Joel perked up a little.

“The hospital. She was taking care of her uncles. They were injured in the accident.”

Joel’s blood ran cold. “What accident? Her uncles were in an accident? Are they okay?”

“They had casts on their legs, if I recall correctly.”

“You knew this? And you didn’t tell me?” Joel asked Angela, who remained quiet.

Tess looked at Eddie who was still standing sheepishly at the corner of the room, his way out still blocked by Tommy. Her eyes were drawn to the cast on his wrist.  

“What happened to your wrist?”

The man hid his hand in his jacket.

“Angela?”

Angela looked at her feet, her hands fiddling with each other.

“I’m calling the cops, they’ll figure this out,” Tommy said, pulling his phone out.

“No! Wait! I’ll tell you,” Angela pleaded. She took a deep breath and leaned on her table, head hung down.

“I needed a way to stall Lily so she wouldn’t go to Texas, so, I asked Eddie to delay her uncles so that she would stay with them here.”

The three looked confused.

“Joel you were moving at warp speed with her, it’s not good. I’m only trying to protect you, Joel. I keep telling you that, but you wouldn’t listen to me,” she looked at Joel. “He was supposed to instigate a small accident, a fender bender with the uncles, so Lily would get worried and want to stay and help them out, so she wouldn’t be in Texas with you.”

The three still looked confused.

“But… uh… he overdid it, and her uncles ended up badly injured. They’re fine, by the way, broken leg, fractured ribs, but…that was not part of the plan.”

“What the fuck, Angela. You could have killed people! You asked your nephew to do this to stop Lily from going to Texas? What else have you done?” Tommy asked disbelievingly, unaware how loaded that question was.

She looked to be contemplating for a while, but ultimately decided she had nothing more to lose. She knew they would find out anyway, now that they knew about her nephew, there was no hiding this.

She recalled that day in your truck. You had left your phone unlocked on the counter when you went to the bathroom. Her idiot nephew had texted her that the accident went a bit too far than planned, that he was sure the uncles were badly injured. She panicked, worried that the uncles would be able to identify Eddie and her involvement in this whole thing would come out in the open. But she saw the perfect opportunity then, one that she didn’t think she could pull off.

She had had the NDA drafted out since she saw you that birthday dinner night. She left when Tommy asked her to but stayed across the street, hoping to find out more. She saw Tommy and Maria leave with the girls, her heart breaking at the thought that you and Joel were completely alone in the house, that everyone was so supportive of this union that they left the house to give the two of you some privacy. Her jealousy reared it’s ugly head when she recalled how dismissive Sarah and Ellie were of her, so quick to question her presence, when she was the one who had been there all long for Joel. Yet, here you were, very much welcomed after a few months.

Tears began filling her eyes when she saw you come out to accept a delivery, wearing Joel’s flannel. She watched as Joel passionately kissed you in his doorway, lifting you up into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening behind that door. She drafted that NDA as soon as she got home. She knew she was going to use it against you. But she didn’t know how to get it to you without making you suspicious of her intents.

And now, luck was on her side.

So she picked up your phone and quickly changed the Millers’ phone numbers to the slew of disposable numbers she had on hand, the ones she used to tip off the paparazzi and such. She then deleted all texts from the Millers, blocked all their original numbers from your phone, calling Eddie, telling him to take Bill and Frank’s phones. He didn’t need to, evidently, the phones destroyed in the crash. She blocked Joel’s email address from your phone too, for good measure. She later logged into Joel’s email to block your email. She was doing whatever she could to make sure you and Joel couldn’t contact each other. She didn’t even know if it would work, but lucky for her, it did. You signed the NDA without protest, according to Andrew.

Tommy closed his eyes.

“So she didn’t ghost me?” Joel asked, looking hopeful.

“No. But she signed the NDA Joel. She wouldn’t have if she was really in love with you. I tried to warn you about her…” Angela tried.

“Wait… wait, wait, wait…” Tess said, taking her phone out. She googled something, finding it, and looked at the NDA again.

“This was signed on the day this article came out,” she told Joel, showing him the article ‘announcing their engagement’. She turned to look at Angela once more, “You arranged this, didn’t you?” When she couldn’t answer, Tess pressed, “Angela, you told me she was a gold digger, that she was after Joel’s money, that she was sleeping around on Joel. I believed you! And now I find out you did all this too? Why would you go through all this trouble to separate them? Because Joel didn’t want to renew? You know he had talked about that way before he met Lily?”

“That’s why you treated Lily like that?” Joel asked Tess. Tess looked regretful,

“She’s been our friend forever, Joel! I’ve known this woman over 20 years! I didn’t see a reason not to believe her! I’m sorry! I thought I was protecting you!”

“Why?” Joel finally managed to grit out to Angela, his chest heaving, his eyes lasered in on hers.

Her expression turned sour. Her eyes were filling with tears.

“Joel…” she whispered.

“WHY!!!???” he screamed, his face red, his neck taut.

Angela jerked, shutting her eyes for a while. When they opened, there was only anger in them.

She remembered the young man she met over 20 years ago, extremely good looking, polite, a great father to Sarah, a gentleman to everyone he came across. He was a great friend, a great man overall. She fell for him, hard. But the man was grieving. He made it very clear he was not looking for anyone to replace Laura. His focus was and would always be on Sarah, he didn’t have time for a relationship.

She remembered thinking he would get over his grief soon. And when he does, she would be there for him. She suggested a friends with benefits situation, telling him that she didn’t have time for relationships either. Just sex, no romance, none of that bullshit, she had told him. So they did, in the privacy of his shipping container makeshift office onsite. She swallowed her pride every time he refused to kiss her, every time he refused foreplay with her, every time he refused a date with her, every time he refused the suggestion of a hotel room, her office, his truck, her car, her home, much less his home with her. She swallowed it all, hoping that he would open his eyes and finally see her.

But he never did.

When she saw what she thought was clearly a double date at the sushi place that night, she got desperate. She eventually made nice with you, hoping to find things about you she could use to separate you and Joel. But when you excitedly told her Joel had asked you to move in with him, after only two months of dating, she snapped.

“Twenty years we’ve been friends, Joel. Twenty years. When we met, you were a lowly single father who barely made ends meet. Look at you now. Look at how successful you are now. I did this. I got you here. And after everything, you scream at me? Because of that lowly barista?”

The last smidgen of patience left Joel’s body. Tommy grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving towards the woman.

“Why?” he repeated.

“I waited for you, Joel. You made it clear, you were not ready for a relationship. So I waited. And waited. And then I waited some more. And then Bam! You’re ready! And instead of coming back to me, the woman who have stood by you all these years, who wanted you over 20 years ago, back when you had nothing, the one who helped you get everything you have now, you went to her! Why have you never asked me out to dinner Joel? Why have I never been invited to your house outside of work?”

“Do you think it was easy for me to watch you kiss her on the lips when I never got that? I watched you invite her to share your bed, practically live at your house, which I helped you choose, when all I ever got was an hour every now and then at your dingy office? Why do I get treated like some glorified sex toy and she gets to be loved by you? Why should I watch you move her in after two months together when I have been waiting in the wings for twenty years only to be pushed aside, Joel? Why her? What does she have that I don’t?”

She sobbed.

“The heart wants what it wants, Angela. And my heart wants her. Not you.”

Angela nodded weakly. “I know. I see that now. Even after everything, you still pine for her. Even when she left you without so much of an explanation,” she whispered, shaking her head, finally accepting defeat, watching helplessly as Tommy called for security.

Angela was gone by the time security called the cops, Eddie in their custody. She rushed home, packed up her bags and booked it out of LA. Eddie may have been an idiot, but she knew he would sing as soon as he was in custody. She knew, she just knew her life as she knew it was over. There was no way Joel and Tommy, even Tess, would keep quiet about this. Even if they did, Eddie would blab so fast if it meant he would get leniency for the hit and run. She was at least guilty for conspiring to cause harm, twice over. And even if she got off lightly on those charges, the fact that she forged Joel’s signature on a legal document was not something that would go forgotten and unpunishable by law. At the very least, she would lose this job. Her reputation would go to pot. She would lose every single thing she held dear.

Damn you, she thought, this was all your fault. Why’d you have to be so perfect for Joel? She did research on you. Cleo’s ‘exposure’ merely confirmed what she already knew - that you were a nice person who didn’t let money get to your head. She couldn’t even find it in her to hate you when she was pretending to be nice to you. Even when she was actively trying to sabotage you, she liked you. In a different world, she would be more than happy to be your friend.

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize she had run a red light. The sounds of screeching tires snapped her out of her stupor, and the last thing she saw was the shining logo of a huge pickup truck coming fast from her left.

“Hi Baby,” Tommy greeted Maria with a kiss, closing the door behind her. Maria walked into the living room, where the expectant faces of Joel, Sarah, Ellie and Tess greeted her.

“Sorry guys, not good news,” she said, giving the girls and Tess a hug, and a kiss for Joel.

“That’s not possible,” Tommy said, “Everyone leaves a trail these days.”

“Not her,” Maria said. “She was in LA until about two weeks after she was supposed to go to Austin, and then she just… disappeared. Two months - she didn’t use her card, didn’t withdraw any money, didn’t purchase anything, didn’t fly anywhere, didn’t rent a car, didn’t check into a hotel… she’s just… gone.”

“How the hell is that possible?”

Maria shrugged. “Frank didn’t make any purchase either, it’s just weird.”

“Are they…?” Sarah asked, not daring to finish the sentence.

“No obituaries.”

Joel, Sarah and Ellie heaved a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you don’t know Bill’s last name? His condo and car are in Lily’s name.” Maria looked at the three expectantly, kicking herself for never asking either.

“No, I sorta forgot they were not really related, I assumed it’s Stevens too, and I just knew Jenny as Jenny, didn’t think of a last name,” Ellie said, banging her head on Sarah’s shoulder.

“Same.”

“Her LA bank account is active, Dave has been depositing his payments to her. But no withdrawal. Her phone number is disconnected. Tracking one Lily Stevens among thousands is not easy. It would help if we knew where Jenny lives,” she looked at Joel.

Joel rubbed his face, “The woman is a comedian. New York today, Tibet the next, she told me she was in the South Pole once. I never thought I needed to ask. She was coming here for Christmas,” he said, lips wobbling, thinking about Christmas without you. He even ordered a stocking for you, far too excited to have you and your family with him and his family during the holidays.

“I’m gonna go to the truck tomorrow, talk to Dave myself. See if I can get him to talk,” Maria said.

“I’ll go with you,” Tess offered, eager to help.

Joel was quiet. As he had been since you stopped communicating. God, he missed you so much. He knew you wouldn’t just leave for no reason. Even before he knew the truth, he couldn’t find it in him to hate you for leaving. He knew you, he may have only known you for a short time, but he knew you. He just did. Even the girls couldn’t be angry at you.

When he finally told Sarah the truth about Laura, Sarah was angry for him, but not for herself. She was angry for Joel. She had zero memory of her. To her, Joel was both Mom and Dad, so to know someone, even her own birth mother had hurt him as such, it hurt her. But with you, Sarah cried with him, trying everything she could do to help him find you. Not for one second was she angry at you, even as she was hugging her crying Dad. They just knew you wouldn’t have left for no reason. They knew you didn’t have a bad bone in your body.

But even after finding the truth, finding you was proving to be quite the challenge. Maria pulled all the tricks she had up her sleeves, but it was as if you had anticipated she would look for you, so you took steps to avoid her and her ways. But Maria was a determined woman. She had yet to fail in her endeavours. And by God, she was going to find you.

She and Tess went to the truck early the next morning, promising Joel they would bring a cup home for him, not that he was looking forward to it. He had long known it wasn’t the coffee he was addicted to. The cheap swill he got at the sites would taste like the most expensive coffee in the world if you had poured it for him. He just wanted you.

“Dave,” Maria called, the man smiling at her despite himself. “Can we have two cappuccinos please? And one americano, with…”

“Six shots of espressos to go… yeah, I’ll be right with you,” Dave answered, waving Maria’s card away. “Zach, do you mind getting some pastries from Betty? I’m kinda hungry,” he said.

Zach finished wiping the counter and jumped out of the truck, greeting Maria with a smile and a hug. He shook Tess’s hand, introducing himself.

Later, the four were sitting down, Maria filling Dave in on the news about Angela. The men looked uncomfortable, shaking their heads, shocked that someone would go that far to separate two people in love.

“Can’t believe she would do that to Lil, and Bill and Frank too… wow… I mean, they are the nicest people I know, and for her to hate Lil that much… phew…” Zach said, shaking his head.

“So, we know you promised Lily you wouldn’t tell her anything about her whereabouts, but could you please tell her what we just told you? We need her to know the truth,” Tess coaxed.

“No can do,” Dave said, looking apologetic. “She wouldn’t give me her contact info. Something about being traceable. I guess she was right,” he said, smiling at Maria.

Maria looked at Zach, who raised both his hands in surrender, “Hey, you know I would do anything for Lil, but like Dave, I have no idea how to contact her,” he said.

Tess was about to say something else, but Maria simply said she understood, picking up her coffee, thanking Dave and Zach for their kindness. She asked Zach if he was working for Dave now?

“Nah, it’s my off day, just hanging out here for the day.”

“How’s your job going by the way?” Maria asked.

“Great, couldn’t be happier,” Zach said, looking content.

“You manage an apartment building, right? Tess here is looking. Any vacancies?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the kind of place a TV star lives in,” Zach said, smiling.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to keep her options open. You have a card?” Maria pushed.

“Yeah, here,” Zach handed the card over, hugging Maria goodbye.

Maria practically pulled Tess away from the truck. “What are you doing? I promised Penny I would look for a house! I can’t live in an apartment. We have dogs!”

Maria shushed her, dialling someone on her phone. “Chris? Need you to repeat the search, this time, look for anything under the name Zachary Wellison.”

“Here’s your coffee, thank you for coming!” you handed the coffee to the nice older lady who had now become your regular. You turned around to see Benny, your other regular smiling at you, asking for his usual.

“Come on, Lil, you said you’ll think about it,” he cooed. He’d been trying to fix you up for a while, first it was himself, then his brother Will, then his buddy Santi, and now, it’s Frankie, both of whom lived at the other end of the country.

“No, thank you! I told you, I’m not ready!”

“Come on, Lil, just one date, you’ll love him, I promise. He’s perfect,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Okay, he has PTSD. And maybe some other issues but… he looks like that contractor guy you were dating. Although… now that I think about it… that might not be the best idea, huh?” he said, cringing a little. You passed him his coffee and shooed him off, taking the rag to rinse, as the bell on the door chimed.  

“Can I have the largest mocha you have and ten minutes to talk please?” a customer asked. You turned around, your service smile at the ready, only to come face to face with Tess.

You felt you head go cold. You retreated, “I’m not supposed to speak to you,” you whispered, turning around to go into the kitchen. She caught up with you, gently taking your hand.

“Lily, please, ten minutes. He’s not here. You had the wrong info. I swear. Please, ten minutes, I’m begging you.”

“Go, Beanie, I have the till,” your Mom coaxed, pushing you gently towards Tess.

You sat across from her, your Mom placing a cup of latte in front of you and a mocha for Tess. You didn’t speak, just waiting for her to say her piece.

“First of all Lily, I want to apologize for the way I treated you back at Joel’s. I listened to the wrong person. I thought I could trust her, I’ve known her for 20 years, I never thought she would lie to me. Angela told me you were after Joel’s money, that you were sleeping around and Joel was too blind to see it. I believed her. I’m sorry. I admit I was rude to you on purpose. I wanted you to know I didn’t like you. I went o stay at his place instead of a hotel just because I wanted you to be insecure. I pushed the girls into spending time with me instead of you, I guilted them when they said you had plans, they didn’t do anything wrong. That thing with his flannel, the phone, I did it all because I wanted you to feel unwelcomed. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond, you simply looked at her, your face expressionless.

“See, I feel responsible for Joel, for his late wife breaking his heart.”

You frowned.

“I was Eddie’s fiancée. Laura was my best friend. I introduced Joel to her.”

Oh…

She took a sip from her drink, looking at you, as if trying to gauge your reaction.

“I was… not myself when I was with Eddie. He wanted me to be a housewife. Raise his children, cook his food, clean his house… I never wanted that. He kept comparing me to Laura. She was perfect, as far as he was concerned. I should have seen the affair coming, but I didn’t, I was too wrapped up in my own stuff, my own worries. If I had, I would have warned Joel.”

The doorbell chimed, a woman walked in, smiling at Tess. She joined the two of you after ordering a cup of coffee for herself.

“Lily, this is Penny, my fiancée.”

Huh? Oh.

Oh…

“Joel and I, we were never an item. Just old friends. I was with Eddie because I was hiding who I really was. But when he wanted me to be the little woman, I just thought… this was not the life I signed up for. This was not worth me hiding who I really am. So I left him. And Eddie, he just went straight for Laura. I read the letter she left him. She was just waiting for me and Eddie to split. And he took advantage of her obsession with him and just took her right from under Joel. Joel got his heart broken because I left Eddie. That’s why I am so protective of him, and any relationship he has. Even if the accident hadn’t happened, she was going to leave him for Eddie. I feel guilty, responsible, in fact, for his heart breaking. For Sarah not having a mother. Believe me, if not for Angela, I would not have treated you like that.”

“Angela did this?”

She nodded. She told you everything Angela did, the when, the how, the why. “The NDA was not legitimate in the first place. Angela forged Joel’s signature. It’s null and void. Joel didn’t know any of it, had nothing to do with it. He didn’t do anything wrong. He never gave up hope, Lily. He kept looking for you, waiting for you. Maria never gave up either. The girls, they scour LA at every chance they had, in case they would run into you. They were glued to their phones when they’re home, looking for any signs of you. They all love you, Lily, and if not for Angela, you and Joel would be so happy right now.”

Tess saw the anger in your eyes, quickly adding, “Angela, she received her karma. She tried to run, after her nephew was brought in for questioning. Her car got T-boned just as she was leaving LA. She’s paralyzed from the neck down. She’ll be living the rest of her days in a nursing facility. Joel and Tommy are footing the bills, a kindness for all the years they had been friends, despite everything.” She smiled when she saw your anger soften.

“He’s so in love with you, Lily, believe me, he is. The man hasn’t enjoyed a cup of coffee since you ‘ghosted’ him. Please give him a chance.”

You were pottering about in your cottage, distracting yourself. They found you. You shouldn’t have used Zach’s name to make the bookings. You thought you were so clever, driving the 18 hours with your injured Uncles in the back of the spacious MPV all the way to your Mom’s ranch in Jackson rather than flying. You actually thought you did it, months passed and no one came-a-lookin’. And then, Tess was here. Damn Maria and her powers of investigation.

You hadn’t even used your cards or withdrew any cash, your Mom agreeing to foot the bills for a few months until you were convinced you were old news in their minds. She was just happy you and your Uncle Bill were finally here. She had spent years coaxing the two of you to move back in with her.

Well, she said move back in, by that she meant move into the cottages at the other ends of her vast property. She lived in the main house, overseeing the workings of your late grandparents’ properties and ranches. Lola, the lady who used to take care of Claire and Cleo’s family moved with her, married Carl the manager and now helped run the ranch. She opened a café, Lil’ Beans, named after you, out of boredom about a year after moving here. You managed it for her, your way of helping out, since you didn’t know which end of a horse was which.

Your Uncles were far too happy to be here. Once healed, they got right into country living, your Uncle Bill building and fixing everything he could get his hands on, Frank painting everything he saw. They were planning to move permanently once the situation ‘died down’, according to your Uncle Bill.

And you… you were just… living. You heart stopped every time someone came in to order an americano, worried that it would be followed by ‘six shots of espressos’. But as much as you were dreading those words, every day that you flipped the close sign at the end of the day, you were disappointed not to have heard them.

Listening to Tess today, you felt stupid. Stupid to not see Angela and her manipulation. She had been so nice to you. You wanted to kick yourself at how easily she managed this. You fucking left her in your truck with your unlocked phone for five minutes, and she turned your life upside down.

Your mind kept thinking about what would have happened if you just flew to Austin as soon as your Uncles were discharged. Dave was there, so was Zach, they could have helped, but you were too hasty, too clouded, too hurt by the NDA that you rushed straight into running, only to find out it was all a lie, that you could have had good night sleeps all this while in Joel’s arms.

God, you missed him.

And now that you knew the truth, what now? Do you go running back to LA? You couldn’t really see it anymore. You loved it here. It’s quiet, calm, relaxing. You loved your new, more relaxed routine with the café. You had staff to open early for you, roast the beans for you. You got to take long walks here, the air was fresh and clean here, you could hear your own thoughts here.

As much as you miss him, the girls and the life you had with them, you didn’t know if you wanted to go back to that city, the traffic, the smog, the noise.

The celebrities.

No… you couldn’t. That was not the life for you.

And would you go back to him, in the light of all this revelation?

There was a knock on the door. And then another. And then another.

Who was it? Your people didn’t knock multiple times. They knocked once as a warning and walked in. You went to the front door and opened it, your breathing caught in your throat when you saw who it was.

God he looked good.

And all the negative thoughts about going back to LA seemed to park themselves at the back of your head.

It was as if your body was pulled to him against your will. You didn’t want to go to him, trying hard to stay your resolve. No more. Life with a celebrity… there was too much drama. That life was not for you. Look what had happened in your life since he came into it. You got pulled out of a truck, fell on your ass and pulled in every direction, all of it caught on camera, filmed, for the whole world to see. Your personal life became public knowledge. Your Uncles almost died. And though everything else was not his fault, you couldn’t risk feeling like that ever again, feeling the way you felt when pictures of him and Tess holding hands flooded your screen every time you browse the internet. When Cleo pulled him into a kiss in front of the world. What if another Cleo came into the picture? No… you couldn’t possibly.

But he was here, in your doorway, looking tired and miserable, woe begone as a sad young boy whose favourite toy was taken from him. You leaned your head on the inside of the door frame, not wanting to invite him in, pulling your sweater close to your body to avoid the chill outside from getting to you. He placed his gloved hand on the wall outside your door, resting his head on the other side of the door frame, his other hand in his pocket.

Your eyes found each other.

He leaned in, as close as he could without touching you, nose just above the top of your head, inhaling deeply, eyes filling with tears as he took in the scent he had missed oh so much, taking more and more deep, stuttered breaths as he did, whispering how much he missed you. That he didn’t know Angela was doing what she did, that he would have done anything to turn back time, take it all back, that he would do anything to have you back in his life, even if it meant he would only be a friend. Please baby. I miss you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. Please. Please. Please.

Against your wishes, your eyes closed, taking in the familiar scent of his old leather jacket, the way his breathing sounded, his musk, the phantom feel of his scruff against your skin. His whispers were so familiar, taking you back to the times the two of you would lie in bed wrapped up in each other, the times he would say something naughty into your ears while having meals with the girls, the times when you woke up to him pressed up against your back, saying good morning in his crackly baritone.

Fuck, you missed him.

You pulled back from him, looking him in the eyes that were full of tears, hope and yearning, the serious look he saw in yours beginning to fill his own with dread.

“I just have one question for you, Joel Miller.”

His eyes turned quizzical, a small, final, glimmer of hope still in them.

You took a deep breath, and with a slight stutter in your breath, you asked him.

“Little hug? Or big hug?”

Epilogue

[queers-gambit]

Save Me From Myself

prompt: ( requested ) in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Last of Us

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: (short as hell at) 1.9k+

warnings: very mild spoilers, there's probably cursing, oneshot (no part two), hurt no comfort, mild angst, shorty shorty short short shorty! author is disappointed in this one, she wanted to give much more.

"Gimme that," you grunted at Ellie, picking her backpack from her shoulder with ease as the shorter young lady protested with a small growl.

"I got it - "

"Take a break," you smiled at the kid, shouldering her pack. "Tell me another one of those shitty jokes you love so much."

Ellie smirked and whipped out her book, flipping through a few pages, scanning the pages, then deciding on one. "What... Is Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

You shrugged, "No idea."

"Ba-na-na-naaaaa!"

You laughed, you couldn't help it. "Goddamnit. That's a good one," you praised, eyeing her for a moment as she silently read down the page. You wondered, "You know, I meant to ask, but why that book in particular?"

"My friend gave it to me... It was a present," she explained softly, seeing your head nod of understanding. "What did one ocean say to the other?"

"Nothing, they just waved," you smirked.

"You shithead," she tisked. "Okay, okay, here's a good one. What's brown... And sticky?"

"Oh, Ellie, don't be gross - "

"A stick."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you," You laughed heartily. "I gotta remember that, I like that one."

"You'll like this one, too. Why should you never trust stairs?"

You knew the answer, but humored her, "Why?"

"Because they're always up to something."

You chuckled, "Good one, kid, yeah. Okay, okay, wait, I got one."

"Lay it on me."

"How do you cut a Roman Emperors hair?"

"How?" She grinned, ready for the punchline.

"With Caesars."

Ellie paused, offering a confused look, "I don't get that one."

You both stared at one another for a long moment, still walking through the cold, dead field.

"You don't know Julius Caesar?"

"No? Who the hell is that?"

You chuckled, "You know what? Just as well, who fucking cares about the Roman Empire when we're living in the end-of-days?"

"It's a decent joke," Joel spoke for the first time in hours; holding his rifle protectively as he lead you both through the wilderness, "for what it's worth."

You smirked at Ellie and teased, "Told you I was funny."

"You used the term punny."

"Both are accurate."

"I think you're just an idiot."

"I think you've got a helluva mouth on you."

Ellie grinned and flipped through her book, your gaze trailing to Joel and eyeing him for a long moment. You've known him since you were 19 and hired to babysit his daughter, Sarah. Joel was everything you could've asked for - loyal, sweet, protective, respectful. You had been at their house, doing coursework for your university program when the Outbreak happened. You did what you could to help protect Sarah, but in the end, nobody was safe, nobody was immune, and Death stretch His hand unto all of mankind alike.

He left only select few, you, Joel, and Tommy being amongst the survivors.

The past twenty years had been anything but easy, and while you had gone into this pandemic together, you and Joel didn't actually stick together the whole time. When you settled in Boston with Tommy, Tess, and a few other nomads, you were exhausted from the brutality you were forced to survive in, and so, first chance you had, you broke away.

Technically, you and Tommy broke away. But still.

Joel turned to a life of shadiness with Tess at his right hand (and on his cock). The two of you becoming estranged, until he saved your ass from a pair of FEDRA agents harassing citizens.

He didn't just distract your assailants, but put them in the dirt, helped pick you up, dust off, check for injury, then escort you home. Once at your apartment, he ensured you weren't hurt and was truly okay, and after that, he was back in your life - like the snap of fingers.

You hated to admit it, but it felt nice having a constant back in your life. Joel was your tether to reality, and without him, you felt akin to a kite with the string cut - useless and drifting away.

After that, you came around a little more to see how much your old neighbor had changed in your time apart. Joel was familiar, he was family; had always been something of a source of peace for you. He was usually protective of your wellbeing - even if he had a strange (and borderline unhealthy) way of showing it - creating a bubble of safety.

You eventually left the Fireflies and met Bill and Frank, venturing out and about with Joel and Tess; the latter of who simply despised you for just existing. She was never fond of you, more so now that Joel was obviously attached to you.

Joel never let her argue about you; he never cared for her opinion nor what assumptions she had. He kept you close, he liked your close; and if she sneered any hateful slander, Joel was swift to push her away in favor of you.

One time, he even literally locked her out of the apartment because she was rude to you and told you to "get lost!".

How could you not feel safe? Comfortable? Secure?

When you made it to Jackson and found Tommy once more, you were overjoyed by his familiar face and scent, but quickly pulled him aside to voice your concern for Joel.

"He's been clutching his chest, walking slower than I've seen before," you whispered to Tommy. "I don't think he's havin' a heart episode, but somethin' ain't right, Tommy. He's not doing the best."

"I'll talk to him," he assured.

You believed him, there was no reason not to. You (willfully blindly) believed Tommy would go about this subject with sensitivity and wouldn't mention your words of concern, but you were wrong. Very wrong. Joel had a known temper and if he caught wind that you spoke his name, even in passing, he would lash out, so, truly, you thought Tommy wouldn't tip Joel off.

The moment you returned "home" (to the house you, Ellie, and Joel were offered), you were met with a fuming Joel and an awkward looking Ellie. "What's going on?" You felt worried, fearing for the worst, asking, "What's wrong?"

"You," Joel snapped. "You're what's wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Joel," Ellie tried with a frown, "she just walked in 0 "

"You had a word with Tommy now, did'yah?" He demanded, ignoring Ellie to focus his glare fully on you.

"Well - yeah - I mean - "

"No," he seethed with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, "where the hell you get off talkin' to my brother like that? Huh? You worried 'bout me, you say somethin' to me - otherwise, the hell you talkin' for?"

"Joel - "

"You overstepped," he shook his head and pointed a scolding finger at you, "and my health ain't your concern - "

"Of course, it is! Fuck's sake, how can you even say that? I get you're mad, fine, okay, you know what? I get it, I'm sorry if I overstepped by telling Tommy how worried I am, but for the love of God, Joel, I am worried about you because you're not the same man you once were!"

"Are any of us?" He huffed.

"You don't think we've noticed the way you've slowed? How you clutch your chest? I'm allowed to be worried - "

"You know, if you weren't so Goddamn clingy all the time, you wouldn't feel whatever compulsion this is to concern yourself with something that ain't got shit to do with you."

You blinked in shock, feeling disarmed by the harsh tone and bruising words he offered. "Joel, we're both worried about you,," Ellie stepped in again. "Don't be such a dick, she's just looking out for you."

"By involving those that don't need to be involved?" He sneered, glaring at the girl before rounding on you. "From now on, you stay in your place - enough with this - this fucking - this protector bullshit you think of me as. You cling any fucking tighter and I'll suffocate, so back the hell off."

You nodded slowly, watching him storm off; door slamming after him hard enough to make both you and Ellie flinch. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, "I should... Um, uh, you know what, I'll jusy - uh, yeah, no, I can just... Yeah, I should - yeah."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything."

"No, but that wasn't very nice of him to say."

"No, I suppose not," you smiled ruefully, giving a hearty, heavy sniffle. "I should, you know, go and find somewhere to crash - "

"Why wouldn't you stay here?"

"I don't exactly like to linger where I'm not wanted," you mused, keeping your tears at bay. "I just need to clear my head for a bit. Go for a walk or something. Maybe he just needs some space, I don't want to be here and upset him more... You two have a mission at hand," you tried to smile, "that's bigger than us all, and whether I see the end of it or not doesn't matter now - what matters is you, Ellie. This petty squabble will pass," you lied, "because you're all that matters. I won't risk further upsetting Joel, gambling with this already sketchy-ass plan and put everything we've worked towards so far at jeopardy."

You both smiled ruefully.

"I know when to walk away," you ended softly.

She nodded, opening her mouth but closing it instantly; knowing you were stubborn enough that she didn't even attempt to stop you. So, she did the only thing she knew she could do: offered her joke book.

"Oh, Ellie, no," you breathed, "no, no, I can't take that, it was a gift."

"And now I'm gifting it to you," she shrugged, holding the book out. "C'mon, just take it, it'll make me feel good knowing you're cracking shitty jokes to yourself - or whoever will listen."

"I can't take this," you whispered.

"Just make sure you stay alive to give it back," Ellie compromised.

"Deal," you smirked, opening your arms and embracing the girl the moment she rushed into your chest. "I'll miss you," you whispered. You promised to see her as soon as you could (so you could return the joke, of course), kissed her forehead, then grabbed your bag, which had yet to be unpacked, and left the house.

You managed to find lodging in the old cantina, and you'd never know that when Joel got back that evening and saw your items gone, he breathed a sigh of relief. In his head, with you gone, it was one less painful reminder of Sarah, the life he had before; and while his mind played tricks into thinking he saw Sarah in town today, he realized you were the constant trigger.

The single strand that kept him in the past.

Constant reminder of who he was, who he wanted to be.

Prevented him from truly moving on.

Though not done in the best or most respectful way, in his heart, Joel knew he needed to shove you into the mud to get you to let go; you saw too much "good" in him. You saw him in the same light as Sarah, and he couldn't handle that; could not fathom that there was anyone left in this world who saw anything remotely humane in him.

So, Joel did what he did best: made his own life infinitely harder by pushing away those who loved him.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

[bluebeary-jay]

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out.  It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

[gracieheartspedro]

I Can See You

fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

Hi friends! It's been awhile (:

I am back to writing! This time, I'm planning on having many parts to this story. It's a DBF Joel Miller story, which I love to read, which means I had to write it, right?

I wrote this with no Y/N, instead each character gives her a nickname/pet name.

So here's Part 1, I really hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: DBF! Joel, age gap-ish (reader is 25, Joel is 39), eventual smut, joel being a little bit of a perv, reader not having a filter, alcohol consumption

“Mornin’,” His Southern accent was even deeper than usual. My head peaks up from behind my computer, noticing his very tired eyes. The bags under his eyes still somehow did him justice. 

“Mornin’ Joel,” I mutter before taking a sip of my coffee. I watch as he finds his way towards my bosses office. He was only my boss at work, but at home he was just Dad. 

I watch his ass move in his jeans, shamelessly. 

Finding your coworker hot is one thing, it’s another when it’s also your dad’s friend and he was about 20 years older than you. 

I’ve thought Joel Miller was quite the looker since I was about 18. I had just started working for my dad. I was mainly just scheduling and doing work orders. Joel took me out to a work site one day, on my father’s request. He wanted me to get know some of the people who would be scheduling work from us. I got to sit around with the property manager of an apartment complex in a tight black dress in the dead of summer, watching guys replace windows. While outside that day, Joel worked alongside some of the laborers, his tanned skin and shaggy dark hair glistening with sweat. Something about him doing manual labor turned me on. Something awoke in me that day, and ever since then, I thirst over him in silence. 

I catch myself looking a bit too long, quickly averting my eyes to my computer screen. I act like I am typing something, glancing over to Joel and my dad walking out of his office together. They are discussing another project that Joel was overseeing that would keep him very busy in the upcoming months. 

“My girl here will be starting back at college in the fall, so she will only be part time for awhile,” My dad says, drawing attention to me. 

“Oh really, where ya going?” 

I blank out completely for a moment.

“UT Austin,” I finally answer.

“Smart girl, you living on campus?”

“Nope, just getting my master’s in Engineering so living from home makes the most sense.”

Joel shakes his head, “Master’s. Didn’t you just graduate high school?”

“I’m 25, Joel.”

His eyes scan me for a moment, realizing I’m much older than he remembers. 

“Ha,” He grumbles, “Time flies huh, Steve?”

“Sure does, you just wait for that Sarah of yours is off to college,” My dad laughs, slapping Joel’s shoulder. I wince, realizing again he has a young daughter. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least. 

“We got about 5 years on that,” Joel says, his eyes returning to mine, “Well it’ll be nice havin’ you around during our busy season.”

“Happy to help,” I reply, not really meaning it. 

“Hey, Joel, you and Sarah making an appearance at our BBQ this weekend? We invited the whole neighborhood and I can’t remember if you told me you’d be there.”

His eyes are still on me, “Yeah, I’ll be there,” his eyes return to my dad’s, “Just me and Tommy though, Sarah is goin’ over to a friend’s house.”

“Can’t wait!” My dad cheers, “Baby girl, can you make sure my schedule is cleared Friday evening so I don’t have to worry about when I can get the meat?”

“Of course, dad,” I grit my teeth, “I’m on it.”

-

“Hey baby girl, can you go grab me some extra plates?” 

My dad was over the top with his BBQs to say the very least. The whole neighborhood was in on it. Steaks, burgers, hot dogs, chicken, the whole thing. I spent all morning getting the huge backyard and cabana ready for all our visitors. We usually had someone come over to do all the setting up, but Dad made sure to remind me that I was living rent free and being paid on his payroll, so setting up was the least I could do. 

People littered the pool and backyard. I weave between people, giving smiles and welcomes where I could.

I walk in to the kitchen, the cold AC air hitting my bare arms. Luckily, I was wearing shorts over my bikini shorts, or else the goose bumps would be up and down my legs, too. I begin searching the cabinets for the large serving plates you always used for big gatherings. Leaning down, my triangle bikini top almost lets my boobs loose. I sit up straight, messing with the knots on my back. I knew tightening it could only help so much.

“Need help?” I almost jump out of my skin. I turn quickly, spotting Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with me.

“Shit, you fucking scared me,” I breathe loudly, patting my chest to make my heart stop racing, “I think I can get it.”

“Mhm,” He sticks a tooth pick between his teeth, “Lemme help, girl.”

God he was so fine. I hated myself for having a crush on him. But the domestic and simple gray t-shirt that hugged his arms so well and the blue jeans? I simply could not resist staring. 

No chance in hell. But I got to look at him every day and imagine it. 

I turn on my heels, holding the ties out to him so he could tie them. 

“I need them tighter,” I mutter, “Don’t want these puppies falling out in front of the Adlers.”

“Don’t want to excite Mr. Adler too much, he may have himself a heart attack.”

I smile to myself, biting my lip. He ties it, his fingers grazing my bare back slightly. 

“All good now, girl,” I turn to face him, looking up at him through my eyelashes, “Now what were you lookin’ for?”

“Serving plates,” I explain, “Dad is finishing up those steaks, needs more space.”

“Well let’s get ‘em and head out to all the fun,” He says, ducking down to the cabinet I was looking in originally. He finds them, handing them up to me. He looks so good looking up at me from this angle. 

“You want to grab us some beers,” I suggest, “I’ll meet you out there?”

“Your dad runnin’ low?”

“Probably, so grab three.”

–

“So, you going to be here all summer?”

I had no interest in talking to Tommy, but he was keeping me from toeing the line with Joel in my drunken state, so here I am. I sit in my lounger chair, wanting so bad to take off my jean shorts. I knew if I did, Tommy would take it as I’m making a pass, so I sweat extra. 

“I’m starting college in August, so yeah I’ll be around the office and staying home.”

He smiles, “Good to hear, love seeing you around.”

I smile back faking a cheery laugh, “Thanks, Tommy… care to grab me another beer?”

“No problem, sweetheart.��

I watch him walk away before searching the crowd for Joel. I spot him across the yard, talking to one of the newer neighbors. A single mom who moved in two months ago. My dad kept joking the other night that he’d be making her my stepmom, which only made me gag. She was beautiful, younger than my dad, but just about Joel’s age. 

A pang of jealousy rises within me. 

Joel finally catches my wandering eyes. He smiles gently, giving me a nod.

“Here, darling,” Tommy says sweetly, “Need anything else?”

“Yeah, actually,” Your brother, “Can you help me with something?”

“Sure, ‘s up?”

I sit up, leaning over making my boobs hang right in his eye line. 

If I couldn’t keep one Miller’s attention, maybe I could snag second best. My beer filled brain thinks about how they are cut from the same cloth, so they both are probably good at this. 

“Do you want to help me change a lightbulb?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I guess, where at?”

I smirk, “My bedroom.”

We sneak away, my eyes scanning the area. It didn’t appear as anyone was following us. My room was the last room on the left upstairs, so the anticipation as I guided him down the hallway was killing me.

Ever since Joel grazed my back earlier, I’ve been ready. So fucking ready. 

“Are we actually changing a lightbulb?”

I open my door for him, gesturing to him to follow me in.

In the dim light, Tommy was very cute. He was a sweet guy and I knew he’d be the first to jump on my idea. 

“You tell me,” I say, starting to untie the knot Joel tied. In my moment of trying to be sexy, I realize Joel tied the stupidest and hardest knot ever. Tommy notices my struggle, reaching around me, frantically trying to get the top off.

As it gets loose, I reach up to grab his neck.

“What the fuck is going on ‘ere?” 

His voice freezes me. Tommy looks towards the door in horror.

“Joel-“

“Tommy, you fucking know better,” His voice is so intimidating and scary, I cant even muster the courage to turn around, “Git.”

Tommy gives me eyes saying I’m so sorry, and I just stare blankly at my wall. I hear Tommy’s foot steps run down the stairs. I realize how drunk I am because my wall paper begins to move on it’s own. It doesn’t usually do that. 

“Now you,” His stride towards me is quick, “I’m not your Dad, but don’t think he’d like you fucking his employees.”

Maybe it was the liquid courage, “Who said I was trying to fuck him?”

I snap my head towards his stern and impossible to read face.

“Bullshit,” He spits, “He got through my knot, he assumed somethin’ was about to happen.”

“Well, even if that’s where it went, why are you putting your nose in our business?”

He chuckles darkly, “So now it’s ours, huh? I have you know, girl, Tommy’s business is my business. And you’re just makin’ my job hard.”

I tiptoe closer to him, “And what’s your job, again, Mr. Miller?”

“Make sure people are behavin’ themselves.”

I realize what he’s doing. My tipsy mind took a second to search his face for more, but I can't read him at all. 

“I’m behaving, Mr. Miller. I promise,” I reach up, touching his jaw, “No more funny business.”

It was the closest I had ever got to him. I felt a rush just touching him.

“Good, get your top back on and come down to the party. Your dad is looking for you.”

I look down at myself as he leaves the room. My fucking tits are out, and he didn’t even look down.

The game he was playing was not the same one I was playing.

–

The next morning, I have a pounding headache and no drive to leave my room. I was embarrassed and horrified. I knew I would have to face Joel and Tommy on Monday morning, so I had to make amends beforehand. I really didn’t want them to tell my dad and I was pretty out of line for trying to fuck Tommy when Joel wasn't giving me the attention my drunk ass thought I deserved.

After spending hours in bed, rolling back and forth thinking of a script to say, I figured that honesty is the best policy. 

Well, honesty with a little bend in the truth. 

I get showered and dressed. My usual summer time outfit was a crop top and short shorts, but today I needed to be more… conservative. 

I find a nice summery dress, that went to midthigh. It was yellow, not a lot cleavage, floral. Innocent. 

When I get downstairs, my dad sits in the living room, his feet propped up watching the news. 

“Where ya going, baby girl?” 

“I’m going for a walk,” I lie. 

“Wearing that?”

“Yes,” I nod quickly, “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

He shakes his head, “No, have fun, I guess.”

I could tell he was suspicious, but he wasn’t one to pester me too much. He had high expectations for me, but I always exceeded them. He never questioned me too much, unless it was about school. He didn’t even really care about my love life. He always got excited when I told him I was going on dates in college. I mean, I rather him be excited than bother me about the guys I was seeing.

I start my journey to Joel’s. I didn’t even know if he was home or not, I was going on blind faith.

It was hot as shit and I was not fully prepared to walk to his house in a dress and sandals. 

I could’ve just driven there and back. But no, I decided to roast in the hot summer sun.

–

When I arrive to his house, I just kind of stand in his driveway, catching my breath. He was home, his truck was here. 

I walk to the front door, knocking first then ringing the door bell. 

It takes about minute, but he gets the door. 

And he’s shirtless. 

It was the worst and best moment of my entire life. 

“What are you doing here?”

And it’s not quite the response I was anticipating when I arrived at his door. 

“I uh-,” I hear some stirring inside the house, which causes me to peak my head past Joel’s shoulder. 

I see movement, but my eyes find Joel’s again before I could focus in on it. He pushes me back a bit, coming outside and shutting the door behind him. 

“I came to apologize, but you seem busy.”

He shakes his head, “Not busy, just woke up.”

“With someone?”

What the fuck? Why can’t I shut my mouth?

“Pardon me?”

“Well I walked this whole way to apologize about my inappropriate behavior yesterday,” I explain, “But yeah, that’s it.”

The door creaks open and I am wholeheartedly anticipating a hot MILF or something. But instead, it’s a little girl. 

“Sarah, get inside!”

“Oh hi, I know you!”

I smile at the girl. She was cute, I had to admit. She looked a bit like Joel, mainly the smile. A smile I wasn’t too familiar with, because he wasn’t too keen on my jokes. Ever.

“Yeah, I work with your dad,” I explain, “Nice to see you, Sarah.”

“You too, do you want to have lunch with us?”

“Sarah she can’t st-” 

“I’d love to, only if your dad says it’s okay.”

He got himself in a pickle, but I was aching to have a conversation that didn’t involve me putting my foot in my mouth like I almost did again. Plus, some food and water would help the heatstroke I felt coming on.

He stares at me, almost like he wished I’d disappear, “Of course, come in. Sarah is making sandwiches.”

“I hope you like turkey and cheese!”

—

“Thanks for the sandwich, Sarah,” I say, wiping my face making sure I didn’t have mustard left over.

She smiles with her mouth full, “You’re welcome!”

“Hey Sarah, why don’t you go get ready for swim practice,” He suggests, “Me and your new best friend need to have an adult conversation.”

She looks up at him annoyed, “I guess, but don’t scare her away. She has a cool pool I want to swim in.”

I laugh out loud, “Yeah, don’t scare me away, Joel.”

He doesn’t laugh, he just looks at me with his lazer eyes. I just wish Sarah a farewell and shut my mouth, waiting for the storm. He stirs, eating another bite of his sandwich. 

“So you came to apologize, huh?”

I swallow, “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for my inappropriate behavior. I had one too many yesterday.”

He nods, “Yeah you were practically falling out of that top of yours before you took Tommy upstairs. Surprised you didn’t have it off before then.”

My eyes widen, “Well that’s humiliating.”

“Don’t think anyone was particularly mad about it,” He says, “Maybe one of those neighborhood watch moms, but who cares about ‘em?”

I can’t help but smirk. Was he insinuating that he wasn’t mad about almost seeing my boobs?

“Yeah, they always give me the most disgusted looks when I’m out jogging.”

“Cause’ they miss bein’ young and beautiful,” He explains, “All their husbands stare, too.”

I can’t believe he’s talking to me like this, I find myself leaning in a bit to try to talk quieter. It seems like this is conversation we should be whispering to each other.

“Do you stare?”

Foot. In. Mouth. 

He smirks, giggling a bit. I finally got to see him smile.

“Of course, I do.”

----

Hehehehe tell me what you think! I'll be back with part 2 soon!

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene: "hey, sister"

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene: hey, sister

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 4.6k

Summary: you and joel try to patch things up with ellie before the baby comes. this takes place before the epilogue but I recommend reading the epilogue first!

Note: posting this now as part of Moth & Birdee's Mother's Day Fic Challenge! This is the final deleted scene for the series. (also if the first bit seems familiar, I posted a snippet during febuwhump).

Warnings: established relationship, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2 but no one goes golfing, terrible communication, makeup sex instead of communicating, p in v, two idiots at the end of the world, fluff, brief Tommy & Maria cameos, baby used as a plot device, vague descriptions of childbirth (nothing graphic in any way), vague depictions of breastfeeding, pregnancy, postpartum depression, family trouble, joel and ellie aren't speaking, estranged family dynamics

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel has the nerve to look sheepish when you storm into the house, door smacking against the drywall. You fumble when you try to grab for the edge of it, eventually grasping and slamming it closed.

“You lied to me,” you said, low and dangerous, heart thrumming with all you’ve been told. You clasp at your chest for a moment, sure that your hand will come back red. 

You let the accusation hang, daring him to grab it and throw it aside. 

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He knows he’s been flayed and left open to burn. 

“I lied to everybody,” he says after minutes have crept by. 

“You lied to me,” you snarl. The corner of your lip jerks, an involuntary sneer. You’d trained yourself to do it in the dingy mirror of your first Boston apartment, holding the other side down until you looked as nasty and tough as the rest of them. 

It worked. It was just a twitch now, unstoppable, popping up when you needed it, whether or not you wanted it. 

Oh, but you do right now. You want it. You want him to see the way you’re rethinking this whole fucking situation.

“I had to,” he says. 

“Oh, fuck off. I trusted you.” 

“I never asked ya to,” he snaps. There he goes. There’s the Joel you know and thought you loved. 

The fight slips from your fists, unfurling and folding over your chest instead. “You’re right. You didn’t.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you go upstairs, but oh, does he wish he had when you come back down a few minutes later. His brain almost doesn’t put it together; the sight of your backpack straps so incongruous with your life here in Jackson.

“What—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“Don’t. I’ll come back by in a few days. And you can think about if it was fuckin’ worth it, Joel.” 

“Worth it to save her life?”

“For fucks sake, Joel, I’m not mad you did it! Jesus, is that what you think of me?” 

You had been trying to keep quiet before, but that’s dead and buried. He raises his voice to match.

“How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re thinkin’?”

“You’re supposed to talk to me, Joel! You’re supposed to tell me shit. You tell me when there’s chili at the hall, you tell me when Tommy has a stomachache, but you can’t fuckin’ tell me how close it came? Can’t tell me what you had to do to save that girl? To bring her home?” 

It’s too late. He’s shut down; you can see it. “I ain’t sorry. About any of it,” he says, and it’s clear and crisp, but you feel like it filters in from across town, something too distant to be sure what you heard. 

But you know. 

“Figure out if it was worth it to lose both of us,” you snarl before you can stop. And it does exactly what you meant it to. It whips across his face like a snowball packed with ice. 

His own sneer twitches to meet yours. You think you might burst if you stay there too long, held perfectly still between him and the door. Might spill more words you don’t want to watch him hear, might throw and shatter the vase on the foyer table, might break down into tears. 

Part of you wants to break, to give in, to try to pull the confession from him and pray he didn’t mean it. That he wants you to trust him. That he is sorry.

But you leave, and when you hear the door slam after you’re down the road, you don’t turn back.

You don’t cry until he opens the door, brows knitted together in confusion.

“What’re you doin’ here this late?”

But your lip trembles. “Tommy—” you start, and it breaks into a crackling, shaky breath. “Did you know?”

Tommy pulls you in for a hug. “Shit,” he says quietly. “No. Just this morning, too. C’mon."

You’re reading in bed when you hear them. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She seemed awfully upset, and I think she’s already asleep.” Tommy’s voice carries easily up the stairs. He’s not a quiet kind of man. 

“Jus’ let me talk to her for a minute,” Joel says. 

You hold your place in the book with a finger shut between the pages, waiting to see who wins this round. It’s a toss-up, really, for who’ll crack. They’re both stubborn as all hell. 

“I mean it, Joel,” Tommy says firmly but kindly. “She was cryin’ all evening and she just finally fell asleep.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel says. “Fine.”

You hear the slow creak of the door and heave a shaky sigh, unable to tell the difference between the relief and disappointment. 

He had come looking for you. You hadn’t expected that, not really. 

But of course, you don’t get to go Miller-free for the night. Tommy knocks shortly after. 

“Hey,” he gives a weak half-smile. “So, how much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” you admit. 

“He seemed pretty upset,” Tommy says. He sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Good,” you mutter, scowling. 

“I just—look, I don’t want you to think I’m pickin’ teams. But y’all worked hard for what you’ve got. It’d be a shame if ya walked away from it.”

You sigh and lean back against the headboard. “I know. But he really hurt me this time. I trusted him.”

Tommy sighs. “I hear ya. I didn’t know, either. He really didn’t tell anybody. I think he was plannin’ on takin’ it to the grave.”

You know, because you know Joel. You know he didn’t want to put you in a hard place between him and Ellie. Didn’t want to ask you to shoulder his decision. And you know you’re going to forgive him. Maybe not today. But it’s already settling in your bones.

Joel meets you in the foyer. He must have heard you coming up the porch. You slip in and shut the door before just… standing there.  Just as you had three days ago. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel starts, and with it, takes all your resolve. 

You sniffle. 

“Don’t cry,” he pleads, but it just tips the tears over the crest of your eyes anyway. 

You let him fold you into his arms, one hand cupping the back of your head to hold you against his chest. Your fingers twine into the soft green flannel, the lingering cinnamon and wood smoke as soothing as ever. 

But as soon as you’ve pulled it together, you extract yourself. “We’re going to have to talk about it,” you say to the button on his breast pocket. 

He tilts your chin up with two curled fingers. “I know. You gotta promise you’re gonna hear me out this time.”

You nod and before you can speak, he’s kissing you, one hand soft against your cheek.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, ya hear me?” he murmurs against your lips. “Don’t run away.”

“Don’t you do that to me again,” you retort, but there’s little fire behind it as you lean up to kiss him again.

He’s sweet from the honey he puts in your tea. He always tastes it before he gives it to you. 

“Hang on, how’d you know I was coming home?”

He grimaces. “Didn’t.”

“But—“

“Shut up.” It’s not sharp, but embarrassed. His cheeks are a little flushed.

You can’t help the fond smile. “What a sap you are, Miller.”

He kisses you again, unable to stay parted for long. “M’serious,” he murmurs. “Don’t run away. Y’can be mad at me all you want, but do it here.”

“I am mad,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says, pulling your head against his chest and holding it there under his wide palm. “I deserve it.”

“Yeah,” you nod, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re an ass.” 

“M’your ass.”

“No, this is my ass,” you wiggle a little. 

“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he gives it a hard smack, squeezing with his wide palm. “This is all mine. Said so yourself.” 

It’s as if you blew out a candle, the way his eyes have gone dark and encompassing. You can’t help but moan a little, and his lips quirk up at the corner. 

“Right?” he prompts, backing you over to the couch. 

“Uh-huh,” you squeak as he lies you down, tugging your sweatpants down as he goes. 

His fingers slide down and cup over your cunt, pushing your body close between his legs. “And this greedy little pussy is mine.” He wastes no time in pressing inside you, giving you no room or breath to adjust to his cock.

His hand slides back up to brush along the side of your breast. “Pretty tits just for me,” he murmurs in your ear, tweaking a nipple to hear you whine. His voice has gone low and rich, his Texas twang a little thicker. 

His thumb rests on your lower lip. “Perfect, eager mouth.” He pulls his thumb away right as you try to suck on it and replaces it with his lips, tongue dipping in to taste you. 

“Hmm? Anyone home?” he taunts. 

The sound you make is more like a strangled balloon than an actual word, and he chuckles. 

“See? I know what you need, sweetheart. All of you is mine,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling out torturously slow and pressing back in until your hips are flush. 

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you whine. You want to be mad that he’s distracted you from being mad, but, well… it’s working. 

The thick emotions of it all don’t leave so easily. Your throat is clogged with it, his breath is heavy with it, and the way he works at your clit is an apology on repeat.

Until it isn’t anymore. Until it’s less “I’m sorry” and more desperation. You’re writhing a little beneath him, the ache at a breaking point, pleading for him to push you over the edge he’s brought you to again and again and again.

“No,” he pants. “Not until you promise. Promise you won’t leave.”

“I’m not,” you nearly sob. “Joel.”

It’s the way you cry his name. He can’t keep pushing you; he pulls all the way out and drops to his knees on the living room floor, burying his face in your cunt with all the fervor he’s been fucking into you.

He goes straight for your clit, three fingers in your cunt, and wrings you dry over and over before he relents and plunges his cock back in you to the hilt, setting a punishing pace, though you aren’t sure which one of you is being punished by it.

Maybe both, but in reality, neither, since he comes deep inside you moments later.

It’s not the first time, but it is rare for him to slip up that way. Still, you think nothing of it, given how low the chances are. 

Lulu is born in the peak of July. It’s hotter than hell and you’re glad that Ellie had gone with the other kids on the trip to the lake. It had been the reason you stayed behind, originally planning to go along with Maria and Alé. 

Joel hadn’t wanted you to go at all. It wasn’t far and even though you weren’t due for another month, he didn’t like it. 

The due date was kind of made up, though. It was really up to you and Joel counting on your fingers to see if you remembered the last time you had a period. 

Not that your period was very consistent to begin with.

His eyebrows had climbed higher and higher as you went back a week at a time to see if either of you could associate an event with it, like if he had fucked you in the ass for a few days or something. 

He had, but really, that wasn’t a great predictor, since he was still coming home from patrol riled up the way he used to in Boston. For the sake of your poor, well-loved cunt, you mixed it up a lot. 

You waited another four weeks before going to see Alice at the clinic. 

After she confirmed what you frankly already knew, you tried to talk to Ellie. 

The first time you visited the shed, you almost chickened out, rocking back and forth on your heels while you waited outside. She cracked the door open, mouth twisted until she saw you. 

“Hey!” She gave you a hug, and you held her as long as she allowed (which wasn’t long; she was a teenager, after all). “Wanna come in?”

“Sure, kiddo, I’d love to see what you’ve done with the place.”

She beams and lets you in, shutting the door behind her to keep out the late autumn breeze. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting. You had feared something bare and cold, where she’d be lonely all winter. But the space is all Ellie. You look over, and she’s clearly bracing herself for your judgment.

“This is so cool,” you tell her, and she lights up. You drink in her toothy, genuine grin, and decide this is not the time. 

“You think so?” she says.

“Kiddo, I would have killed to have a place like this when I was your age. I had a treehouse, but that was nothing compared to this. Where’d you get all this stuff?”

“I traded around town for it; you know I’ve been—” and she stops, smile gone. “Well. I guess you don’t know. I’ve been doing some jobs after school in exchange for cool stuff.”

She’s guarded again, maybe expecting you to tell her off or nag at her for not telling you.

“That’s great, kiddo. That was a clever idea. What kind of stuff have you been doing?” 

You end up on the couch while she sits on her bed across the room. You don’t think the space is intentional, but you don’t want to cross it in case it is. 

She tells you about babysitting and cleaning, helping other residents with their jobs in the gardens and the stables. She shows you some of her prizes as she goes, gushing over a thick astronomy textbook. It’s beyond your knowledge level, but she’s clearly been devouring every word. Its real value, she says, is that it was printed in 2003 for some college. But the textbooks they had in the QZ were from 2001. 

“Did you know that after we discovered all the moons the other planets have—like did you know Jupiter has fifty moons? They told us it was 38—and then people were getting confused about our moon being the moon, so they started calling it Luna in all these research papers. It's all so fucking cool.”

“That’s incredible, Ell. I’m so proud of you.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. Sometimes, you forget she’s still a teenager. 

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “Did you need something?”

“No. Just wanted to see you,” you lie. 

It’s the wrong thing again. 

“Did Joel make you come here?”

“He doesn’t even know I’m here.” That, at least, is the truth. 

“Okay,” she says. 

“I—” you start, not knowing what you’re going to say, but hoping your runaway tongue will do patchwork here. But she doesn’t let you get that far.

“Hey, so, I was actually going out when you got here, so.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry to have kept you.” You believe her about as much as she believed you a minute ago, but you’re not going to push. You get up, and she lets you give her a hug, but it’s not returned very enthusiastically this time. “It was nice to see you, kiddo.”

“Yeah, um, see you later.” 

When she shuts the door behind you, it feels uncomfortably final.

You don’t try again for another month, when you have the excuse of Christmas to give you gumption. 

When you knock, she’s slow to open. Her face is unreadable, and she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“What?” she says. 

You nearly shove the bundle in your arms at her. “Merry Christmas. I know it’s early, but it’s supposed to be real cold this week, and—”

Anything else you were about to word vomit catches in your throat while she opens the gift. You’re terrified she’ll reject it, reject you. You’ve been working on it for a while. Since before the fight, even, worried about her in that damn shed all winter.

This quilt is patchwork blues, different shades and patterns. Over top you’ve cut out and stitched the galaxy together for her. It’s maybe childish, but you don’t think she ever had a chance for many childish things. And it’s not nice, not like the ones they used to sell at Pottery Barn when you were a kid that your parents could never afford. 

“You made this for me?” she says. 

“Yeah, kiddo, of course. Sorry it’s not quite accurate, I—”

Her hug knocks the breath from you for a moment, but you hold her to you and try not to cry. It doesn’t last long, and you can see the way her conflicting feelings are making her uncomfortable. But she surprises you.

“Wanna come in?” she says.

“Oh, um. Maybe later, I’m-um, I’m on my way to dinner at Tommy’s. Do you, um. Do you want to come with us?”

The scowl is back. “You mean with you and Joel.” His name was a dirty word spat from her mouth. 

“Well, yeah. We miss you, kiddo. I miss having everybody together.”

“He put you up to this.” It’s harsh and she knows it, sees the way you blink against the offense. 

“I’m capable of doing things of my own accord. Is it so hard to believe that I want to see you?” 

“Sorry,” she mumbles. 

“S’ok,” you say glumly. “I knew it was a long shot, I just—“ and you’re mortified to find tears burning at your waterlines, “just thought I’d ask anyway. M’sorry.” You had intended to ask, and Joel knew. You just wanted to tell her so badly. 

You hug again before you leave, but you have to hide in the half bath when you get to Tommy and Maria’s to weep. 

Joel slips in after a few minutes. He wraps you up in his arms while you try to smother the sounds of your broken heart. 

“I know, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You tell Tommy and Maria after dinner. Tommy picks you up and swings you around in a hug, which makes Alé giggle. 

You go home first, exhausted. Joel tries to insist on going with you, but you know he needs some time with Tommy. As much as he’s trying to share Sarah with you, this is a whole different rodeo. 

The light is on in the shed when you get home. You hover on the porch, wobbling between your split instincts. In the end, you go to bed. 

Winter passes quietly. The layers help keep your secret, but you know it’ll be harder come spring. When Maria tells you that Ellie stopped by to wish Alé an early happy birthday because she wasn’t coming to the party, you cracked again. 

You pound on the door of the shed. She answers, guarded as always, and clearly surprised to find you there.

“Can I come in?” you blurt.

“Sure, yeah,” she says, and though she hesitates, she steps back to let you through. 

It’s not a frigid day, as you head into spring, but you stay layered up in your winter gear. Your bump isn’t big by any means, but it’s unmistakably there. It could be passed off as weight gain, but Ellie isn’t stupid, and you aren’t about to insult her by pretending. 

“Alé’s going to miss you at her party.” 

Ellie shuts the door of the shed, but hovers there, arms crossed. “She’s turning three. She won’t remember.”

“You’re her family; you should be there.”

“You want her to see us fighting?”

“Ellie, please. Just come over, come have dinner. We can talk. All three of us.”

“No,” she snaps. “If all you’re going to do when you come over is try to get me to talk to Joel, stop coming.”

“I just want our family together.”

“I’m not coming over there to get lectured and have you do nothing but side with him like always. You’re too damn scared of him leaving again that you never side with me. Guess what? I can leave, too. Get out.” 

“No, Ellie—”

“Just get out.”

“It’s not about him, just please give us a chance—”

She opens the door and stands there, not looking at you. 

You hesitate when you reach her, but she flinches back, so you just go home.

When Lulu is born, the sun rages at the apex of the horizon. Joel sends one of the neighbors for Alice, and busies himself getting everything ready while you pace the length of the upstairs hall and breathe through the pain. 

He’s filling the tub when he finds you with your elbows against the wall, head down, and teeth gritted. In an instant, he’s at your side, rubbing his hand over your lower back. 

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he says, as he always does. “What do you need?”

“Just you,” you whimper. “Need you with me.” 

“Okay, sweetheart, I got ya.”

It’s far too soon to push, but he helps you into the tub anyway, hoping the cool water will help since you’re flushed and sweaty. He climbs in behind you, perched on the edge with arms wrapping around the top of your chest above your breasts. His lips press up and down your neck, and he takes a rag to wipe the sweat from your face. 

That’s how Alice finds you, and she nods at Joel approvingly before telling you she’ll be in and out to check on you. 

Between contractions, you slump back against Joel. Alice dropped water bottles off and he coaxes you to sip while you can. 

When the time comes, you’re exhausted. You can tell Alice is worried that you won’t have the strength. 

Joel isn’t, though. “You’re tough,” he murmurs. “You just hold onto me and do what you need to do.” 

It hurts. There’s no way around that. You push back against his chest, arching and screaming while he holds you tight. When each break comes, it’s too short. Your head flops back onto his shoulder, and he wipes you down with the cold rag again.

“You’re doing great. Fuckin’ incredible. Just a little more, baby, I promise.”

After, Joel helps you stand on shaking legs just long enough to get dry. Once you’re safely seated on the bed, feeling absolutely ridiculous in what was more or less a heavily lined cloth diaper, he helped you into one of his flannels, leaving it unbuttoned so you could nurse the baby. 

The day is a blur. You’re not sure what time she was born and you’re not sure how long it is before Tommy shows up. You’ve been mostly asleep, rousing when Alice brings the baby in to eat. She’s an absolute miracle, watching over little Luna while you and Joel sleep. 

“Getting rest today is critical to your success in the coming weeks,” she had said. 

You sleep even better once Tommy’s there. Maria stayed back with Alé, just for today. They were coming over first thing in the morning at your insistence. But Tommy came to help with the baby and stay the night once Alice went home, as you had done for them. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Alice. But knowing Tommy had Luna made you feel safer than anyone, other than you and Joel. 

You might have slept better still if not for the specters haunting the room. 

The next time you wake, the sun has set. You can hear her cries from downstairs, and sure enough, Tommy brings her in moments later. 

“Look, Lulu, your mama is up and ready for you.”

You take her into your arms and get her latched before it registers. “What did you call her?”

“Lulu! Ain’t it sweet?”

No, you think, but he has his biggest, dopiest grin on. You settle on a noncommittal hum, which you would regret later when he takes it as enthusiasm. 

You go to say something, but it dies when it finally clicks that you’re alone in the bed. 

“Where’s Joel?” 

“He, uh—”

“Tommy.”

“He went to try to talk to Ellie. They all just got back.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I tried to stop him—”

“No, it’s okay,” you say, closing your eyes tight for a moment. When you gently cradle Luna against your shoulder to burp her, you take a deep breath against her tiny, downy head. “He should. It’s good.”

“He didn’t need to leave you alone. I told him to wait until she got back.”

“I’m glad he didn’t. She deserves to know right away. Hell, we both tried to tell her before, but…” 

The silence sits like the river in the winter—a thin, false calm on the surface. After you latch Luna on the other side and get settled, Tommy sits on the bed beside you and lets you rest your head on his shoulder. 

That’s how Joel finds you when he gets back. Luna’s gone back to sleep, cradled in your arms, and Tommy’s thrown his arm around your shoulder while you cry. 

“It’s normal,” he had said. “That’s what Alice told us after Alé was born. Baby blues, she called ‘em. And I think you got a real reason to be sad, anyway.” 

You look up, blinking away stray tears, when Joel comes in the room. The look on his face tells you everything you need to know. 

“She took one look at me and took off with Dina. I tried to call out and tell her it was real important, but she wasn’t hearin’ it,” he says once he’s crossed the room to you. He presses a kiss to you and Luna’s foreheads. 

“What about me?” Tommy grumbles playfully, and Joel gives him a little kiss, too.

They both laugh. You wish you could. You think you would have. It’s right there, sitting at the bottom of your diaphragm. But it doesn’t rise, doesn’t bubble up. Instead, it goes cold and sinks down where you can’t reach. 

Joel and Tommy exchange a look. 

“What?” you say.

Joel just shakes his head and lifts Luna from your arms to place her in the crib. “Let’s get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be just across the hall,” Tommy says, tipping his head and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Joel slips under the covers and wraps you up in his arms. It eases a heavy sigh from your lungs, one that trembles on the air in its own wake. 

He kisses your head and tucks you in close, trailing off into soft snores. But you can’t follow. Your heavy eyes blink slow, that brief darkness the only barrier between your gaze and the crib.

Your chest is tight. It’s like icicles are forming inside your lungs. It’s a testament to how tired Joel is that he doesn’t wake when you slip out of his grasp. 

The soft knit socks from Mrs. Davies muffle your shuffle across the floor. You tug the throw pillow and crocheted blanket from the armchair. The crib sits low to the ground, so you lower yourself beside it, wrapped in the itchy pastel, and watch the rise and fall of her little chest. 

You don’t sleep.

*title from "Hey Brother" by Avicii

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l chapter eight sneak peek

A/N: it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted an official sneak peek for this series. I was kind of surprised that most people voted for a snippet of this one, I really thought it would be the PD fic. But I’m glad that this lil series of mine is still one people want to read. There’s a few people out there rooting for these babies and to those few people: thank you for motivating me to see this one through to the end. Few more chapters to go!

*this is from the beginning of the chapter before shit starts to hit the fan so let’s enjoy the good while it lasts! also, I made sure to post a hefty snippet because this chapter is going for 9k 👀

“The water isn’t too hot, is it?” You asked, running the wet washcloth over his chest and neck, careful not to take it near his bandaged shoulder. Leaning over the side of the tub, a lock of hair fell loose out of your ponytail and Joel was quick to lift his hand out of the water, tucking it behind your ear.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, his hand grazing your cheek, the water dripping off of his arm landing on your blouse, soaking through the material. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take that shirt off, Peach. I got you wet,” Joel couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his own terrible innuendo.

“Unbelievable! I just pulled a bullet out of you, and you’re already thinking of getting me naked?” You teased him with a little giggle. “Oh and by the way I hope you know that there will be none of that for a while, not until you’re all healed up. Got it?”

His face fell. “You serious? But you said it could be four to six weeks until my shoulder heals—how am I supposed to go that long without touchin’ you?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to survive, Miller.”

Joel grumbled incoherently under his breath.

Chuckling, you leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss to his right temple. Your lips lingered over the small jagged scar, causing him to shudder slightly.

“You were right about Ellie,” You murmured softly against his skin. “You were right to warn me about her.”

He frowned. “She confronted you ‘bout us?”

Pulling away from him, you nodded.

“Earlier at the stables, before Tommy showed up.”

Joel grimaced.

“Might regret askin’ this, but what did she say?”

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip.

“She wants me to leave Luke.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She did? What else did she say?”

“That the three of us could be a family. She said it wasn’t that complicated—all I had to do was pack up my things, take off the ring and leave him. Said I could move in here with you two.” You paused to let out a small, breathless laugh. “I told her I would love that more than anything in the world, but that it’s not possible. I can’t leave him.”

His jaw clenched. “Because he won’t let you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again.

Like father, like daughter.

Joel and Ellie were cut from the same damn cloth.

“Joel, I love you. And I love Ellie, too. You two have made me so, so happy,” You told him, softly. “Ever since I met you both, something in me changed. It was like I had forgotten what it felt like to love, and to be loved. That part of me, I thought it was dead and buried, but you two brought it back to life.”

“You belong with us, Peach. Your place is with us. Your home is with us, not with Luke.”

“I know,” You whispered. “I know that, Joel.”

Joel sat up straight in the tub, wincing slightly. He was really starting to feel the pain in his shoulder.

“Joel, stop. Come on, you need to take it easy.”

Placing your hands on his chest, you tried to push him back, but Joel’s hand reached up and caught one of your wrists, his fingers curling around it.

“Whatever you’re afraid of—”

“Joel, please,” You whispered, thickly. “Don’t.”

“You ain’t gotta be afraid, baby. I can protect you. I can keep you safe.” His thumb lightly caressed the thin, delicate skin on the inside of your wrist as his eyes met yours. “I can keep you safe. I wouldn’t let anythin’ bad happen to you. Neither would the kid. She loves you too damn much.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Lifting your wrist, Joel planted a gentle kiss on the inside of it, your pulse strong under his lips.

“Me and Ellie, you’ll be alright with us.”

A long, heavy sigh escaped you. “I know that.”

“Then? What’s stoppin’ you?”

You sighed again.

“Just—just give me time so I can figure things out, okay? If I have it my way, I’ll be living here with you and Ellie before winter comes around.”

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 2

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, light flirting, touching hands, hugs, cold/illness, light angst, a teensy bit of pining, teacher!reader (no specific details given in fic, it’s just your job from Before) a/n: This is Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice. I’ve done my best with the overall TLOU (show) timeline, but I can’t find a timeline that has the specific dates/months that Joel and Ellie passed through Jackson and returned. For the purposes of this fic they pass through in late November, 2023, and come back in April, 2024 (ish). Enjoy. :) word count: 7.4k

series main post | series playlist | ao3 | chapter 1 || chapter 3

Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice

Jackson, Spring 2024

You’ve been in Jackson almost four months when Joel and Ellie return. You have a couple of friends, but it hasn’t really been long enough to establish yourself in the community. You’re a bit of a loner. You mostly talk to Tommy, Maria, and some of the others who work the same jobs you do. Tommy vouched for you, which seems to have given you a real in with some of the people here, but you have to put in the work.

You’re still floating, still trying to settle, and not at all ready to return to teaching. You know Tommy told Maria about what you did Before but neither of them have bugged you about it. The idea of walking into a classroom fills you with both longing and dread and for now you’re still avoiding it completely. You and Tommy have both been surprised at how much you like working outdoors – you were truly an indoors-only person Before. The first time he caught you standing in a pile of horse manure three months ago he doubled over laughing and almost fell in it himself. You’re still getting used to being around someone who knows you so well.

Maria is slowly warming up to you, but she’s been a little distant since she realized stories about what Joel (and Tommy, not that she seems to mind that part) has been up to in the last 20 years don’t seem to phase you. You aren’t good enough friends yet to tell her the things you’ve done, the things you regret and the things you don’t. It’s not like you’ve been an angel yourself. You’re not surprised to learn that Joel did whatever it took to protect people, to survive and save his last remaining family member. You can imagine who he became when he thought you were dead along with Sarah. It’s the same thing that happened to you, after all. The same transformation.

After that first meeting at the gates (when you barely said anything at all to each other before Tommy swept all three of you away, ignoring Ellie’s obvious curiosity and her elbow to Joel’s side as you stared at each other in the road, unmoving) you don’t get a chance to really talk with Joel for a couple of days. You get it – you know Joel, the Dad. He’s settling Ellie in and your heart clenches because you can remember what he was like with Sarah. You haven’t thought about Sarah this much in years. 

(That’s a lie – you think about her every single day. But not like this, with two people nearby who knew her, too. It’s different somehow and it’s making you feel things you thought you’d forgotten how to feel. It’s probably best for you to get over that feeling, that hurt, that initial reaction at a distance. You don’t want it to touch Ellie. She doesn’t know you.)

So Joel and Ellie move back into their house, which happens to be next door to yours because Tommy Miller will stop meddling when he’s dead. You don’t talk to Ellie that first day, but you and Joel make eye contact as he stands on his front porch and you stand in the road where Tommy just left you. His eyes are soft and dark and so familiar (and longed for) that it hurts. He takes a hesitant step towards you and speaks his first real words to you in 20 years. The sound of his voice still sends shivers down your spine.

“Can we– I can’t today, I’m sorry, I have to– Ellie–“

“I know, Joel,” you interrupt. “She needs to settle in, and she doesn’t know who I am. Take care of that first.” When you say his name you see it hit him and pin him in place. It was the same for you back at the gate. You drift a little closer to their porch steps.

“I’ve had a little bit longer to sit with the idea that– that you’re still alive. I’ve been here a few months. I’m not going anywhere, ok? We can talk later. Maybe in a couple of days?”

As you talk he’s searching your face and you feel yourself doing the same. Looking for the person you knew Before. At your offer, he looks relieved. 

“Yeah, darlin’. In a couple of days.” 

You can’t hide your reaction to the endearment or the feeling that washes over you, once-familiar and almost frightening as it echoes from Before. You think he might have surprised himself with it, too. When’s the last time he called anyone that? Maybe the last time you heard it. For a moment you just stare at each other.

It takes Ellie poking her head out the door to jumpstart you both back into action.

Joel heads inside and you head home, but you can hear her start to grill him about you as they close the door. (Who the hell is that?) It makes you smile.

…

You spend that night staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, completely unable to sleep. Joel is here, alive, probably 50 feet away from you and just knowing that keeps you awake. The following day you move from your house to work and back again in a daze, avoiding the dining hall, trying not to stare at their house or worry that Joel is avoiding you when you don’t see them. By the next morning, two mostly sleepless nights since Joel and Ellie walked through the gates of Jackson, you’re exhausted. You get dressed and find yourself standing in your front hallway, talking yourself down from going to lean on Tommy for some information. It’s only been two days, like 36 hours, get a fucking grip.

It’s convenient, then, that you’re so close to the door when someone unexpectedly knocks on it. As you open it, your heart leaps into your throat. 

Joel Miller is on your porch. He looks flustered and worried. You can tell he’s been running his hands through his hair – it’s messy and going every which way, just like it used to whenever he was anxious about something. The only difference now is the brown is shot through with gray. 

“Joel? Is everything alright?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth you feel a bit of deja vu, but you have no time to analyze the feeling before he steps towards you and you lose track of the thought at his proximity. You step back to let him in.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I know we need to talk, but Ellie’s come down with something when we got back. I’ve been taking care of her. I didn’t want you to think I’ve been avoiding you.”

He’s twisting his hands together in front of him as he speaks and you notice one is shaking. You almost reach out to rest your hands on top of his to soothe him, but you stop yourself. You’re not ready to touch him like that and you doubt he’s ready to be touched. You clench your hands into fists and hide them behind your back instead. 

“Oh no, is she alright? Do you need anything?” 

You realize as you offer that you don’t know what help you, an outsider, could provide — everything is different than it was Before, when you would have been in the same house helping with the sick child from the start. You haven’t even really been around kids in years. It’s a weird feeling and you’re not sure what to do with it.

Joel shakes his head. “No, we’re fine, Tommy brought some things by yesterday and this morning, she’s already on the upswing.” He crosses his arms and sighs, looking down at the ground between you unhappily. “But I need to go talk to Maria and some others, and Tommy needs to be there with me, and, well. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sitting with her for a bit?” 

He looks up at you from under his eyelashes, a hesitant look on his face. “Or, um, sitting in the house, just in case she needs something. She’s in bed, you could stay on the couch. I know you don’t know each other yet but I wouldn’t ask anyone else here to do this.” 

It doesn’t escape you that he said yet, that he implied you will get to know Ellie. It wakes something in you, something painful and raw and long-dormant, something you haven’t felt in 20 years. You have the sudden urge to run and hide and you twist your fingers behind your back, willing your feet to stay right where they are. It’s different somehow from the wave of emotion you felt a few months ago, sitting on the ground, tangled in your sleeping bag, shocked at the news that this man was still alive. It’s a feeling you’ve been running from since you realized Sarah must be dead. 

But you’ve basically never said no to this man, not about anything important. You aren’t going to start now.

“Of course, Joel. I’ll follow you over.” That feeling of deja vu is back, and you wonder if he isn’t feeling it too, as he tilts his head at you with a contemplative look on his face. He nods and thanks you and turns to go.

You suddenly realize you’ve been reading his expressions and mannerisms this whole time and you don’t seem to have lost your fluency with it. You wonder if he can still read you just as well, and if he can, what he’s seeing. You’re not sure, yourself. You can’t imagine what you’re giving away.

You shut the door behind him and take a moment, forehead resetting against the wood, to just breathe.

…

When you arrive at the house next door, Joel calls for you to come in from somewhere upstairs and you take a moment to look around. They haven’t even been there two days and they already have some belongings visible in the living room. The kitchen is in a bit of disarray, the way it normally gets when a kid is sick. That feeling that almost sent you running hits again, like an echo. You close your eyes against the memories of Sarah and you miss Joel reappearing at the top of the stairs until he calls your name softly. 

He’s stopped halfway down the stairs and beckons for you to follow him back up. You do and he leads you down the hall to what is clearly Ellie’s room – he goes straight in and sits beside her on the bed as you linger in the doorway.

“Ellie, this is—“ 

“I know who she is, Joel, you already told me,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes and then coughing a bit. The look of disdain she gives him is so classic teenager it takes your breath away. It’s so easy to recall Sarah doing the same thing. You can picture the same look on her face. 

You breathe slowly through it and hope your reaction doesn’t show. You smile, weakly. Ellie is stone faced in response, and she glances at Joel, looking to him to take the lead. He’s looking at you. You gather yourself. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie, I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty.” She looks a little amused at your description but she doesn’t laugh. She’s clearly wary of you, which is fair. “I’m just going to be downstairs on the couch, call if you need anything, ok?”

With that you turn and head back downstairs, and you can see the relief in her expression as you do. You’re also relieved. She’s not comfortable around strangers, and for you the role of babysitter is sitting uncomfortably on your shoulders like an old coat that you outgrew and haven’t touched in years. You imagine it’s worse for her when she’s not feeling great. 

You hear their low voices for a few minutes and then Joel reappears on the stairs, brow furrowed.

“Are you sure she’s ok with this? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” You have to ask.

He looks at you and his brow relaxes, softening a bit. “It’s fine. She’s done nothing but sleep and grill me about you for the last two days, coughing the whole time. She’s just not so great with strangers. I think her curiosity’ll take over, she always wants to know everything. Besides, she’ll probably fall asleep.” You nod as he moves past you towards the door. To your surprise, he reaches out to touch your arm, so softly and briefly you wonder if he even makes contact or if you’re imagining it. You shiver, resisting the urge to hug your arms across your chest. You know it would look like a rejection. “It should only be a couple of hours.”

“We’ll be fine, Joel.” Through the open front door you see Tommy waiting for him outside, and he nods and winks at you before he and Joel make their way towards the center of town. You roll your eyes in response.

…

You spend the first fifteen minutes after they leave sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing. Something about this feels so much like Before it’s making you anxious, but you’re exhausted and you’ve spent 20 years burying or shying away from those memories. You can’t immediately recall why. When it gets to be too much you stand and head into the kitchen, looking for something to do with your hands. Thankfully there’s a pile of dishes waiting for you.

You’re almost done with the dishes, successfully avoiding thinking too hard about Before – or now, or anything at all – when you hear something and turn off the water to listen more closely. You hear your name called softly from upstairs and immediately dry your hands to go see what Ellie needs. 

When you arrive in her doorway she’s sitting up and fidgeting. 

“Hey, what do you need?” You put what is hopefully a neutral and helpful look on your face. You haven’t dealt with a teenager in decades but you remember well how they see through pretense. Sarah never turned down a chance to call any of you on your bullshit. 

She eyes you for a moment, glancing back at her lap where she’s gripping the blanket tightly, before saying, “Can I– Can I ask you some questions? About Before.”

Your eyes widen a little, you can’t help it, but you don’t want to shut her down. Before she can take your expression, whatever it is, as a rejection you say yes and move a little further into the room. She tenses.

“Sorry, I’ll stay over here. Can I get a chair?” She regards you silently for a moment, and then points to the corner to your right where you haven’t looked yet. There’s a chair with a jacket slung over the back. You nod and take a seat. 

“Ask away.”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking like she’s thinking. “So you were going to get married, Before. Right?”

You nod. “Right. Joel proposed in 2002, in December. He meant to do it on New Year’s Eve but he couldn’t wait and proposed early.” Ellie snorts, and then coughs a little bit. You keep yourself from moving towards her to hand her the glass of water on her nightstand. She doesn’t know you. And she’s a teenager, not a little kid. She’s older than Sarah. Don’t think about it.

“That sounds… romantic?” Her tone says that the idea of Joel doing something romantic is so outlandish as to be impossible.

You smile, a little bit sadly. “I know I’m different now, so I imagine he is, too. But he was always a huge romantic. We knew each other for a while before we actually got together, but once we were dating, it was like he couldn’t help it.” You’re suddenly glad you’ve had three months to think about him being alive. This conversation would have felt impossible when you first arrived in Jackson. Now it’s possible, just difficult.

“What, did he like, give you flowers?” The look on her face says she considers this unbelievable and slightly offensive, which reminds you so strongly of 13-year old Sarah you have to take a deep breath. You look away to make it seem like you need to think.

“No, well, he did a few times. But it was other things.”

“Like what?”

“He… well, he took me dancing. For our first date, and then pretty often afterwards.”

“Dancing?” She’s incredulous. “No way, I refuse to believe that old man can dance.” 

You can’t help but grin. “Yeah, dancing. That old man has moves.”

She scoffs and asks what else, clearly moving on from the dancing. For now, you assume.

“Well, we were both bad at remembering dates, but he never let an important date pass without doing something special anyway. He used to do little things for me before I even noticed they needed to be done, especially around the house. He never held back from telling me how he felt. He made it clear how important I was to him, and how much he liked having me in his life, by making space for me in it. I don’t know how much you want to hear about it, but … yeah, the man’s a romantic. No question.” You pause, and smile a little wryly. “Tommy can back me up, and his version’ll probably be way funnier. At our expense.” You feel something inside you start to thaw as you let yourself remember Joel this way.

Ellie looks like she's trying to hide a smile, which you count as a win. Then her expression shifts, and something makes you a little wary with how she sets her shoulders, readying herself to ask another question. 

“D'you want to get back together?” The look on her face says she isn’t sure that’s what she wants. Not at all.

You suddenly feel like you’re on a tightrope. You’re out of breath even though you haven’t moved an inch. You know you have to give the right answer here. But you aren’t even sure what it is for yourself, let alone for Ellie. Before you saw Joel at the gates you’d decided you wouldn’t let this second chance pass you by, but what does that actually mean, practically? For the people you are now?

“Ok, that’s a tough question, and no, I’m not blowing you off. I’m just going to be honest, ok?” You look down, lacing your hands together in your lap. 

“Joel and I were so in love, like head over heels for each other, 20 years ago. We both thought the other person died, and our kid did die. I’m… in shock right now. I think he is, too. I found out he was alive a few months ago, he found out I’m alive two days ago. Nothing feels straightforward or clear." You squeeze your hands together and clear your throat.

“I think we knew each other well enough to know what our lives might have been like in between, what we might have done. Or had to do. Maybe we imagined it sometimes. Um.” You pause to take a deep breath and glance up. Ellie is looking down at her hands. You can’t tell how this is going over with her but you keep going anyway.

“To answer your question… I never stopped loving him. He’s the love of my life. But I can’t say for sure what we’ll do until we talk, which we will at some point. It’s– it’s been too long to assume anything. To think everything is the same.” Your hands are shaking. You think you might be rambling, so you pause to get back on track.

“But that’s not the most important thing right now. You need to get better and you both need to settle in, you know? That’s his focus. As it should be. And I know he’ll talk to you about it. Whatever happens. I’m sorry I don’t have a– a clear answer.”

Your heart is beating fast as you finish. You can feel it in your throat.

Ellie is frowning as she meets your eyes again. She looks lost, her voice almost a whisper as she says, “I don’t… he has Tommy. And now you.” This admission clearly costs her, and she crosses her arms and looks away from you.

Suddenly you think you understand the conversation you’ve been having. You’re surprised and a little warmed by the fact that she was willing to say that to you at all. 

“Ellie, I might not know everything about what Joel’s life has been like for the last 20 years – not yet, anyway – but I do know what that man looks like when he’s being a parent.” You think you see her suck in a breath at your words. You swallow and continue, “it looks the same now as it did then. And yeah, you don’t know me, but I knew him, and going by my own experience? That part of him is still in there. I can see it. As far as that man is concerned, you’re his kid. No question about it. And that’s not something we take back. It just is, ok? It’s forever and it’s unconditional. I promise you, it never goes away. Not for us.”

…

After your conversation with Ellie, which you’re hoping went well but you’re honestly not sure, you’re completely wrung out and over your own feelings. You spend about 45 minutes puttering around the kitchen and living room to avoid feeling any more of them before you hear footsteps on the porch.

Joel opens the door, looking around and spotting you quickly. He looks worried, but his expression clears a little when he finds you sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Yes, everything's fine. She didn’t have another coughing fit, we chatted for a little bit and then she fell back asleep.” His eyebrows raise when you say you talked to Ellie. As he takes the seat across from you his boot nudges yours under the table and then moves away. You try to ignore the effect that tiny touch has on you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It went well, I think? You’ll probably hear about it either way.” You finish with a little bit of a rueful smile, hoping she’s warming up to you and not the opposite.

Joel smiles a bit in response. “Thank you again, darlin’. I couldn’t put them off anymore and I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to be here with her.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. 

“To be honest with you, I’m still in shock that you’re here for me to ask. I… well. It feels a little bit too good to be true.” He looks uncertain as he says it. You nod. You feel the same way.

“I know. I… it’s kind of surreal? I want…” you hesitate, but he’s watching you like nothing could be more important than how you finish that sentence. You decide to just let it all out. It’s worked for you so far today. 

“I know it’s been 20 years, Joel, but part of me has felt like everything is the same from the moment I saw you, which is confusing as hell, because the other part of me knows it can’t be and it isn’t. You don’t know what I’ve done, I don’t know what you’ve done. We’re not the same people. Even if it feels like it. Even if looking at you and hearing your voice feels—“ You clear your throat and look away. 

“Even if it feels the same. Even if I want… Even if…” you trail off, not sure if you’re ready to finish that sentence, after all. You realize you’re gripping your hands together so tight it hurts, and you slowly relax them and flatten them on the table in front of you. You take a breath before continuing, gaze trained on your hands. 

“It’s like we hit pause 20 years ago and neither of us knew for sure what happened so there was no closure, no clear explanation. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know how to bridge that time with now. How to remember that version of me, the one you knew, and be this me. How to… Joel, so much happened, and I imagined so many versions of you. What our lives would have been like.” You take a deep breath. “I guess that’s what we need to talk about.”

You look over, gaze low to avoid his eyes, and see Joel is clenching his fists a bit, like he’s holding back. You’d like to think it’s from reaching towards you but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe you shouldn’t assume you’re reading him as well as you think you are. Maybe you need to spend more time reminding yourself of the things you don’t know about this man. 

Before your thoughts can spiral too far, though, he does reach out. You watch as his fists relax and you track the movement of his hand as it lifts from the table and slowly extends towards yours. He’s trembling, you notice, and then you realize you are too. You can’t tear your eyes away as his fingertips lightly touch the back of your left hand where it rests on the table. You feel all of the hair on your arms stand up in response. 

“Darlin’, I…” he pauses, and you both hold your breath as your eyes meet. 

Time slows to a crawl. He puts more gentle pressure into your connection, sliding his hand over the back of yours, touching you with intent for the first time in two decades. His thumb moves lightly back and forth over your wrist, a soothing motion. All of your focus narrows to that point of connection, even as his gaze pins you in place. You can’t look away. 

Holy hell. His hand fully covers yours and squeezes. After the two barely-there touches you’ve shared today it feels almost obscene. His hand on yours in the present calls up memories of his hands on you Before and you're dizzy, spinning through your memories. You didn’t know you could still feel this way. Not even for Joel. 

He opens his mouth to say something and your gaze drops to his lips. You’re desperate to hear it, whatever it is, when suddenly the moment pops like a soap bubble as the more annoying Miller sticks his head in the front door.

“Joel! I brought food. Oh! Hey there, sunshine.” He greets you, and then grins at you. “Am I interrupting something?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, which is so absurd it kickstarts you back into motion. You need to get out of here. 

“No!” You say a bit too loudly as you leap to your feet, breaking your connection with Joel. You feel its absence immediately. Your hand is tingling. “I should get going, I don’t want to intrude and I want Ellie to be comfortable so she can get better. Joel, I– do you want–“

He interrupts you and catches your eye to hold you in place, but he doesn’t move his hands from the table. “Yes, I do.” You’re glad he does. You aren’t actually sure what you were going to ask, but at least you’re in agreement about it, whatever it is. “We still need to talk. I’ll find you tomorrow?”

You nod, a bit wildly. “I’ll be at the stables all day but I should be home around four.” He smiles at you, starting to stand, and you make a beeline for the door, elbowing Tommy a bit as you pass him. He makes a big show of staggering away, moaning and overselling it, but he deserves it anyway.

As you turn onto the road, you can’t help but glance back at the house you’ve just left. The sight that greets you stops you in your tracks – Joel is leaning against his own open door frame, arms crossed, looking pensive as he watches you walk home. 

Suddenly it hits you, your tired mind finally recalling the reason for all of the deja vu, and your spine stiffens as you inhale quickly in surprise. You almost call out to ask Joel if he remembers. He has to, right? It’s basically what got you together Before and the similarities are almost too much for you to believe. Your eyes move down and back up, looking around the porch, taking him in. All it took to break the tension the first time around and get you to actually start something together was a sick kid.

As you meet his eyes again you’re sure that you’re both remembering it. He can see your moment of realization, and after that moment in the kitchen, you know he can still read you. The expression on his face is complex but you see affection and regret, weighed down by all the memories you share. He tilts his head and smiles at you, a bit ruefully. You smile in response, hugging your arms around yourself. 

All of your nerves and your worries about your upcoming conversation fall away – you still have enough in common with this man that you can have this conversation, without words, 20 feet apart. 20 years apart.

A moment ago you felt like the last few hours had scraped to the bottom of your emotional reserves and left you empty. But the smile you and Joel share sparks something inside you and you’re filled with a sweet, tentative anticipation that you barely know what to do with. It’s been years since you felt anything like it. 

Tomorrow.

…

Austin, Spring 2001

You were setting your coffee down on your desk, mentally starting your to-do list, when you were surprised by a knock at your front door. 

A peek through your curtains revealed your neighbor, Joel Miller, pacing agitatedly on your front porch. 

Ever since you met on the day you moved in almost six months ago Joel had been nothing but welcoming. And from the moment you met his eyes that day you knew you were in trouble. 

In some ways, you were typical, friendly neighbors. You saw the Millers almost every day, if only to wave at each other from your driveways on busy mornings. You’d been over to babysit Sarah for a short afternoon or evening a few times. They even had you over for a welcome-to-town dinner early on and you’d traded dinner at each other’s homes about once a month after that. 

But what was going to get you in trouble was Joel the Handyman. He did end up fixing some of your bookshelves after the movers broke them – stop apologizing, darlin’, I told you I’m happy to help – which led to him fixing more and more things around your house. Every time he came over to fix something he would spot another creaky cabinet door or leaky faucet or crooked light fixture and promise to come back another day to take care of it. You’d swear he came over to fix something every week. At this point you were surprised there was anything left to fix. 

You always sat nearby while he worked and the two of you talked about anything and everything – whatever funny thing your students had done that week, how Sarah was doing (with school and with soccer and with everything else), Joel’s frustrations at work, Tommy’s latest escapades. Sometimes it felt like Joel knew more about you and your day-to-day life than anyone, since your friendships at work were still new and you’d moved far away from everyone who knew you at home when you took this job. You always ended up talking for much longer than it took Joel to finish whatever task he’d had in mind, usually sitting together on your back porch or at your kitchen table until he absolutely had to go. 

(His visits also gave you the opportunity to watch him work – to watch him flex his shoulders and arms and to admire the muscles in his back and thighs, (mostly) unnoticed. You’d feel bad about it if you hadn’t caught him with his gaze locked on your legs in your house shorts more than once. And then there was the time he’d come over to fix the ceiling fan – he’d climbed a ladder in your living room while you stood nearby to hand him his tools. His chest had been only a foot or so away from your face and when he’d raised his arms his t-shirt had lifted far, far above his jeans. You’d lost track of the conversation, eyes locked on the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his exposed briefs. You’d vaguely thanked whatever deity might be out there that he had forgotten to wear a belt that day. As he stood on his toes and shifted his hips his jeans had slipped a little lower, showing you just a hint of an outline of something you had to stop yourself from picturing. You’d gone quiet, distracted and far away until he coughed lightly and your eyes shot back up to his face. 

“Still with me, darlin?” He’d smirked at you, knowingly, but had gotten right back to work after, continuing the conversation like nothing had happened.)

It felt like you were always catching each other trading looks. The flirtation you’d started that day next to the moving truck hadn’t turned into anything more, but it also hadn’t faded into anything less.

Pacing on your porch that morning, Joel looked as handsome as always, but he was clearly distressed. His normally only somewhat unruly curly hair stood on end as if he’d been tugging at it.

“Morning Joel, something I can do for you?” you asked as you swung the door open and invited him in. Despite how frequently he’d been in your home to fix things it was still a surprise to see him before 8:00 AM on a Tuesday. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, darlin’, but I’m in a bit of a bind. Are you working from home today?” Joel asked as he stepped inside. 

“Yes, is everything alright?” It was clear that Joel was trying to be polite but something was making him more anxious than you’d ever seen him. He was alternately twisting his hands together or running his hands through his hair as he shifted his weight. 

“It’s Sarah. She—“

“Oh no, what happened?”

“She’s just sick, so she can’t go to school but Tommy can’t be here today and I have to go to a job site for a couple of hours. I managed to reschedule some meetings but not everything. Could you possibly come work over at mine for a bit, keep an eye on her? She’ll probably sleep the whole time, you know, but I just don’t want her to be alone, she’s not old enough yet–”

“Joel, of course, I’d be happy to,” you cut him off, trying to reassure him with a smile. “Take your time, I’ve just got a day of grading and reading planned. I can be there for her if she needs me.”

The look of sheer relief that broke across Joel’s face surprised you as he leaned forward, grabbing your shoulders and resting his forehead against yours. Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh thank you so much, darlin’. I swear I’ll call as soon as I’m on my way back. Do you need help grabbing anything?” 

As he stepped back Joel raised his left hand and trailed his thumb across your cheek lightly, almost so light you couldn’t feel it, then brushed his fingertips down your neck. You felt your focus narrow to the point where he touched your face before he stepped away, putting more space between you. Your whole body shivered. This is not the time for that. You blinked a few times.

“Oh, um, no I’ve got it. I’ll pack up and be there in a minute.” Get it together. 

…

About 10 minutes later you were raising your hand to knock at the Millers’ front door when Joel flung it open in front of you and invited you in. 

“Sarah’s back asleep upstairs,” he said in a low voice, “but I woke her up when I got back to let her know you’re here. Feel free to set up wherever you’d like. You can check on her in about an hour – I wrote down what meds she’s had and when she can have them again over here on the counter. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. But call me if you need anything at all, ok? And if she gets worse. And you know where everything is, I know–“

“Joel. Don’t worry, we got this.” You smiled and reached out to squeeze his upper arm, trying to reassure him. 

“I know you do, I know, it’s just—“ he looked worriedly up the stairs before he sighed, shoulders dropping a little, and quickly rubbing his hands over his face. He started to turn towards the door. 

“I know, Joel. It’s Sarah. But I got this, ok? I’m here for you.”

Joel paused, midway through his turn towards the door, and looked back at you. He tilted his head as he considered you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“I know, darlin’. You always are.” He said, almost too quietly for you to hear. “I’ll —“

“You’ll call me, I know. Now get out of here, Joel Miller.” You pointed playfully at the door. Joel cracked the first weak smile you’d seen on him all morning, nodded his head, and left. 

…

You’d been working your way through your students’ papers for about 45 minutes when there was some movement upstairs. You quickly set everything down on the couch and moved towards the stairs. “Sarah? Are you awake, sweetheart?” You heard a quiet response but couldn’t quite make it out, so you headed up the stairs to check on her.

You found Sarah sitting on her bed, looking a bit woozy and still mostly asleep. “Hi. I have to pee but I’m kinda dizzy.” Her voice was soft and scratchy and she sounded congested.

“Let me help you. I’ll get you some water after, alright? And you can have more medicine and get back to sleep until lunch.” Sarah nodded sleepily and leaned on you as you moved towards the bathroom together. 

“This is kinda embarrassing,” she said softly, and you laughed. 

“More embarrassing than the Great Tampon Panic of 2000?” You nudged her softly with your elbow and she laughed, and then coughed. 

“Don’t make me laugh! No, nothing can beat the way dad lost it that day.”

You smiled, knowing you were probably both remembering Joel’s panicked sprint to your house over the summer when Sarah got her first period and the ensuing chaos. You had been living next door for about a month and you were all more comfortable around each other after that. 

After a successful, if slow, bathroom trip, you got Sarah another dose of her medicine and tucked her back into bed. “I’ll be right downstairs, ok? I’ll check on you again soon.” You ran your hand lightly over her forehead and hair to soothe her, but also to see if she was warm. She didn’t feel hot under your hand. Sarah nodded and was soon asleep once again. 

…

Joel didn’t manage to call until about two hours later. 

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, I wanted to call an hour ago but I got caught up. How’s my girl?”

“She’s alright. We had a short bathroom break and another round of cold meds and she’s asleep again. I updated your note.”

Joel sighed, sounding more tired than you’d ever heard him. “I'm hoping to leave in the next half hour, so I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“We’ll be here.”

…

Much later, around dusk, you were finishing up a stack of assignments when you heard a key in the front door. You set everything aside and turned to see Joel quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Welcome back.”

“Hey, darlin’, how’s she doing?” he asked, setting his keys on the table by the door and stopping to remove his boots. 

“She’s been asleep since she had some toast around lunch time. I peeked in there about 15 minutes ago but she was still out.”

He sighed, and looked towards the stairs, brow furrowed and clearly worried. “I was hoping she’d sleep it off.”

“She could still be doing that. When I did talk to her earlier she was groggy but still herself – she told me not to make her laugh because it made her cough.” You smiled a little. “And she didn’t have a fever when I checked a little while ago.”

Joel nodded and turned back to look at you. “Even when she feels terrible she’s still a force of nature. I can’t thank you enough, darlin’. I know it was a lot, and it took me longer than I hoped, but–“

“Joel, it was fine.” You cut him off. “It wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t even that long at all, and I did just what I would have done anyway.” You tilted your head towards your stack of graded papers on the couch. Joel turned fully towards you, hands on his hips, and tilted his head while he considered you. The unreadable face was back.

“You look mighty comfortable over there.”

“Oh sorry, let me clean up—“

“No, darlin’, that’s not what I meant. No need to rush out. It’s a good thing. You look good. Over there, I mean. Um.” He smiled at you, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, looking a bit sheepish. You knew what you wanted that to mean but you weren’t sure he meant it that way. Did you look good, or look good here, comfortable on his couch, in his home? You felt your face start to warm as you smiled at each other.

“Can I help with anything before I go?” You ducked your head a little and started shoving your papers into your bag. 

“No, I’ve got it. I’d invite you to stay for dinner as thanks, but I don’t think anyone in this household will be much company today. Next week, ok? Come over for dinner, maybe Sunday? Give her some time to get better first.” He took a couple of steps towards you, watching as you packed up your things. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Joel–“

“Come for dinner,” he interrupted you, catching your eye. “Please.”

You stood and found yourself only a foot or so away from him, which didn’t help you calm your reaction to him. “Ok, ok, you know I’d love to.” You smiled and Joel smiled in response. “I don’t need convincing.”

Looking satisfied, Joel turned and led the way to the door. You grabbed your bag and followed, noticing he was standing a little taller than he had been that morning.

You started to move past him towards the door, but before you could, Joel suddenly reached out and pulled you into a hug. You found yourself with your arms circling his waist as he placed one hand securely at your lower back and used the other to gently cup the back of your head. You pressed your face to his shoulder. So quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “Thank you again, darlin’. I was still worried, of course, but I felt so much better knowing it was you here with my girl all day.”

You couldn’t help it – you sank into his arms a little, returning the hug tightly. “It’s never a problem, Joel. You know I love that girl.”

You felt more than heard a little hitch in his breath as he paused before slowly stepping out of the embrace. “Yeah, I reckon I do. We’ll see you Sunday, right? Let’s say 6.”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled, touched his forearm briefly, and headed out the door. 

You felt his eyes on you the whole way to your front door, and glanced back as you dug out your keys to find him leaning against his own door frame, watching you. When he saw you turn he smiled a little and raised a hand to wave, finally ducking inside his own house only when you did the same. It felt like something had shifted. Something more was brewing between the two of you.  

Sunday. 

...

a/n: see you next Sunday for chapter 3! I decided not to split this or the next one half, so the next chapter has parts in Jackson and in Austin. Also, fun fact - this Austin section for chapter 2 was the first part of this fic I wrote, back in April.

Tag list:

@morgaussy @jay-zzle @bluetattoos

chapter 3 is posted!

[missmarveledsblog]

I'll show you different (Joel Miller x Reader ) Part 9 No outbreak! au

summary : as peach is wondering what happens next.. she doesn't expects the outcome and leading to things she never thought would happen nor things she would do .

warnings : mentions of domestic abuse , unrealistic law gibber jabber , fluffy

previous part

It wasn’t long til more and more showed up maria gave her statement , neighbor gave their own , camera footage and  his own dash cam added into the evidence . all the documents , court orders that held on her side being put through a fine comb and yet none of that was a priority . the priority in all their minds right now was on a table as surgeons fighting to save her life.  Maria was shaken it all happened in the blink of an eye , from him being on top of peach , to him plunging the knife in her gut , how peach pushed her way to take the brunt of his anger .  tommy memories of old friends fate to a new friend someone he considered family fate was hanging in the balance . nathan guilt of not seeing it sooner , not putting stop to it sooner . joel’s whole life behind that door , the first time in long time of opening up and it was or could be gone . each holding on to that hope she was going to be ok this was going to be something they would look back at and wondered how it was their life.  One thing they oddly felt grateful was john was still unconscious the stress of it all would kill the man .  they hoped they didn’t need to be delivering different kind of news .  

His eyes never left the door even as it opened he was first to stand  , trying to gauge the expression of the mans face coming towards the group . 

“ family of miss y/n l/n “ 

“ here “ joel  nodded , “ we’re her family , her grandfather is in a coma and sherif is here too “ . 

“ she is extremely lucky , it was touch and go for a while whoever try intended to do as much damage as possible but she is stable and will need to be on bed rest to recover , i will had over everything as soon as i can nurses are also taking pictures as requested “ he nodded. 

“ who requested them ?” sherif head tilted. 

“ miss y/n told us no matter what to give the extent of  her injuries to the sherif , including the dna we might find on her skin “ . 

“ smart girl “ he shook his head. 

“ you can see her as soon as their finished and all pictures and stuff will be sent to the lab , another bed will be put in her grandfathers room “ he nodded. 

“ thanks doc “ joel shook his hand as they all walked toward her grandfather room only to see the man himself sitting up . 

“ hey john “ tommy wince giving current state of the rest of them . 

“ listen old man what were going to tell you is going to be a lot but you need to stay calm she is ok and will be here shortly” maria smiled weaked. 

“ why y’all covered in blood  and who’s that guy or the two guys that sitting outside my room “ he asked . 

“ i’m nathan barnes friend and lawyer of your granddaughter , this is her blood , her ex took her but she fought back and he’s dead but she alive and out of surgery be here soon “ he explained as the monitor started beeping . 

“ calm yourself she fought like hell so she needs you alive” joel snapped. 

“ she’s ok ?” 

“ yeah she’s a fight so course she is , little bad ass “ tommy grinned. 

“ she save my life” maria smiled as tears filled her eyes . 

“ you saved mine first burst in like annie oakley “ the voice croaked 

“You little shit i go into a coma and you do all this “ her grandfather held his chest. 

“ oh give up  i fought back and won” she rolled her eyes as they all glared at her. “ no yelling this is hospital “ she added. 

“  little peach your gonna give us all a heart attack “ he grumbled .

 “ sweet as a peach i think i get why they call you that” nathan chuckled. 

“ i thought it was cause she got a nice ass” tommy winked only for maria to slap him . 

“ it’s because i ate all the peach filling on my grandma  that my grandpa said i was going to turn into one “ she yawned. 

“ there must of been a dozen peaches in that filling “ her grandfather chucked . 

Yet joel laughed til he saw the bruises formed around her neck , the cuts on her lip and cheeks as well as bruises scattered all over the part he could see . 

“Hey i’m ok other than sore side and aches and sounding like darth vader .. i’m alive and i’m ok “ she smiled softy . “ i fought back for first time in my life i didn’t run” . 

“ you scared the shit out of us all “ he sighed taking her hand in his . 

“ yeah i was scared  i was scared being back in that house more than the man that brought me there” 

“  he did what! “ her grandfather exclaimed as monitors start beeping loudly once more . 

“ why is that place still up ?” she asked . 

“ cause i was waiting til you gave the ok to bring it down its all your name now kid “ he sighed. 

“ well then bring it down til nothing left” she croaked  god even talking hurt . 

“ ok ok enough of this talk , save your voice they’re gonna wanna talk to you after about all this” sheriff spoke up .  

“ am i in trouble “ she asked . 

“ no darling i’ll make sure of it “ he patted her cheek softly. 

“ but i could be ?” she asked  more fear in her her voice . 

“Worry about getting better let me worry about the legal stuff  all this evidence we’ve got not a chance of it even going to trial “ nathan smiled. 

“ big city lawyers would know more” tommy winked . 

“ he’s right time to put you first ok  “ joel smiled soft not once did he move from her side on his hands from hers . afraid if he let go he would somehow lose her again . he heart was still beating fast at fact he almost lost her the first time .  seeing her in such a state he heart crashed and fell like it was hovering above ground stuck in a limbo if it was going to break or not and shit still felt like that . seeing her beaten, bruised and weak even though she was the victor in the fight hell it was close to being a loss no one of them would be able come back from .  now she could be in more trouble which he couldn’t understand one bit she tried to get away the evil bastard hunted her down like an animal . nathan was already working a strong case as well as email and text witnesses .  along her own evidence she was so easily able to give . 

A couple of weeks in the hospital she was called to the court house bundle of nerves as she walked into the room seeing the judge and The D.A. standing looking through files of her things picture of when she was younger and in new york , xrays of broken ribs , arm and wrists .  joel stood at her side given her grandfather wasn’t able to and honestly the images  in front of him would send the old man to the grave. 

“ you’re probably wondering why we called you here huh?” the D.A Micheal smith stood .

“ am i being charged?” she asked her voice shaking . 

“  no in this state” the judge spoke up . 

“ but on the condition you attend therapy ,  it’ not a punishment  more of a helping hand of support this is case  probably the most straight forward case of self defense and giving that he followed you here took you by force  , attacked you with force and deadly weapon and your not only protecting your self but your friend and your property , the law is on your side y/n and it sad it was taken to these lengths  “ michael shook his head . 

“ your are strong young lady , remarkable in the strength is something admirable we wish you the best young lady “ the judge stood held out his hand as she shook it still processing the fact she wasn’t being haul off to prison.   

“ your lawyer also has something to discuss with you about properties and stuff so we’ll let you go and deal with that  , here’s my card if you need anything let me know “ michael smiled. 

“ here’s mine too little lady actually my wife holds a support group for women like yourself please feel free to stop by whenever you are ready “ the judge stood . 

“ thank you ?” she was almost asking as they walked out of the room completely .  “ that’s it i’m finally free from this whole thing “ she looked up tears in her eyes trying to process the feeling she was finally free . she couldn’t imagine a day where she could live and not look over her shoulder  having the monster hunting her and now she wasn’t the prey she was the purveyor of it all . she found her damn hardest  and came out the other side . now she live her life ,  like really live her life without anything holding her down  well other than recovery but if she survived the hell  already she could face it all. 

She and joel met nathan at the cafe near the courthouse knowing what was already to happen as he was finishing off the rest of the whole situation he sat smiling brightly like he was the cat that got the cream but then again it was just the fact it ended better than what he thought it would be . the outcome he was expecting was visiting her grave and not here in a cafe . 

“ so i got more good new since he had no other family nor took you out of the will well everything is your the bank  transferred  the fund in your own account  and his properties and cars will all be yours” he smiled .

“ does that mean i have to leave here” she asked almost sadly . 

“ no , you wanna stay here til your 90 then you can , they’ll be there for you  i can sort transport for the cars and …” 

“ sell the cars and donate the money to shelters and whatever from the properties i want to go to two college funds for sarah and ellie miller  and before you say anything it my way of thanking you for everything and it not going to change so accept it “ she turned as joel felt open so fast she thought it was gonna land on the floor . 

“  peach that’s too much honestly i know you love the girls but  and i didn’t help you for you to do this “ he began to speak . 

“ i know you did it without a reward but it not a reward what am i gonna do with all that money  “ she shrugged like it was nothing . 

“ done what about the firm?” nathan asked. 

“ you have it “ she smiled brightly. 

“ maybe you need to sleep and think about all this “ he gulped. 

“  stay on as my lawyer from new york run the firm , you are one who helped me when i thought no one  would ever believe me lost friends and your girlfriend because of all this  i mean it doesn’t even come close to repaying you for how you helped me “ she spoke from the heart he was the first person to see her to help her that was something she would never forget . 

“ only if your my partner in it i mean hell it could be doing nothing but knowing your tied to it all still would make it feel better “ he smiled feeling himself getting choked up . 

“ nope i’ll be your client but this is for you “  . 

“ ok ok thank you “ he hugged her tightly . 

“ thank you from me and the girls honestly its too much “ joel pulled her into a hug . 

“ hey so how does feel to be rich “ nathan chuckled  as they sat down . 

“  i like the fact i’m free more  i never thought i would be “ . 

“ well if anyone deserves this goodness  i would say it you hell your one of my favorite people “ nathan nudged her . 

“ your one of mine  , another is beside me “ she shyly looked at joel . 

“ well least i can leave knowing she will ok especially after meeting you  , it was a pleasure getting to know you joel and your brother and was finally amazing to meet your grandpa it’s shit it was under the circumstances but she alive so i can’t be any happier  i better get going peach i got my flight to catch if your thinking of visiting please let me know and you guys too  , already have plans with your grandfather so “ he chuckled standing as she hugged him again only tears weren’t falling down just her face as he held her  a bit  tighter , kissing her head .  “ i love you kid honestly never stop being you “ he pulled back .

“ it was good meeting you and visit on better circumstances “ joel held his hand out only to pull the man into a hug . 

“ take care of her for me … don’t worry i don’t love her like you do “ nathan whispered pulling back as joel chuckled .   the two led him out waving as he went off  , she was still crying as joel arm was wrapped around her shoulder holding her to his side. 

“ can we go home now “ she sniffled looking up . 

“ yeah come on peach “ 

She felt her eyes widen at the numbers in her account  , she knew he had money but actively seeing how much was astounding . she wasn’t thinking of herself though when she was thinking of the people in her life .  each playing a major part of making her feel happiness she’s ever known and sticking by her side when most would of easily told her to stay away , that her trouble and shit wasn’t theres to deal with but not they literally even risked their lives to have her in their lives making sure she wasn’t alone anymore . even if she had all the money and riches in the world it wouldn’t  be near enough compare to those people in her life . they meant so much more  and ever will  in short span of time they showed her what it was to matter and honestly feel wanted  make her feel human .   she really did luck out in her darkest moment she had people keeping  the light on her and it was only just the start.  More so the man at her side , he opened his home , stayed with her during night she couldn’t sleep or even when she was in the hospital  hell he even showered in the damned place .   she thought she knew what love was , she knew love but not love love . the love she felt for joel was something she only ever seen in movie , book or her grandparent even with her grandmother gone she could see the love her grandfather harbored for his late wife .  she never felt this for her ex husband not even when things were good , she never felt it for anyone before it was totally new , scary and yet welcoming as her hand was in his . touches like this becoming the new norm she wasn’t stupid or naive to think it was just friendly and yet she was still so nervous to take the next step , cross the line of whatever this was to something more. What if she was too damaged to give the love she felt to him in away he deserved .  But wasn’t that what life was about , what living was about. Taking such risks because even though in her experience it never was good but this time she could feel it was different , it would be different .  She didn’t realize how lost she was in her mind til she felt the hand move and the view of their street out the passenger side window .  the  midday sun casting it like over her as she got out of the truck .  the brightness and heat was nothing like the fire that was burning inside her as she stood thinking it all over til she  shook her head knowing she didn’t need to overthink anymore , she was free to make her own choices in life .  like the new lease on life finally setting in as she rushed around the truck ignoring the gathering audience on joel porch  no in that moment the only one in her mind was the man before her .  her hand reaching up to behind his head and her lips crashing against his  , a pleasant surprise when his own pulled her  closer almost instantly he was responding like he could read her mind but she didn’t care for the reason just savoring the feeling of his lips against her own .  How right it felt , how  she didn’t know that this was the feeling she was missing all her life . pulling away she rested her head against his chest a smile so wide she was sure her cheeks would hurt .  looking up words didn’t need to be spoken it was all there in a simple look all that love and adoration channeled between two souls . 

“ praise fucking jesus it’s about time “ tommy called as they looked up see the group beaming down at the two . “ y’all can suck face later come on peach we are celebrating to your new life “ he cheered as they broke out laughing . 

“ i thought i’d be dead and buried before it happened “ john called. 

“ we can drive off just say the word “ joel winked . 

“ i made your favorite mac and cheese “ maria shouted. 

“  yeah maybe after that “ she giggle running ahead as he followed  never did he smile as much as he did in that moment maybe he wasn’t so bad after all . all those harsh words of his ex gone when he was able to have peach  even if it was just that moment but something told him it wasn’t going to be that way he would make sure to not let a woman like that go so easily. 

last part

taglist : @harriedandharassed @missladym1981

[projectionistwrites]

EQUIFINALITY | SPRING

PART TWO, sequel to GESTALT

Joel Miller x afab!reader (6.2k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: angst, grief, graphic depictions of injury & medical treatment, discussions about murder & death, age gap (not mentioned), allusions to smut DISCLAIMER: although this is a continuation of my series titled GESTALT, it could potentially be read as a standalone. however, i strongly suggest reading the first series to provide context for the reunion and background on the relationships between the characters. this part is genuinely upsetting, i’m sorry in advance. NOTES: this part takes place after the finale episode, when ellie and joel return to jackson.

← previous part | next part →

He slept for almost 36 hours straight when they finally arrived back in Jackson.

He at least had the mind to shower before he collapsed into the mattress—scrubbing away the accumulation of filth and grime that his body had collected throughout the course of the past few months with Ellie. He spent an unreasonable amount of time picking at the dried blood beneath his fingernails—mostly because he wasn’t sure if it was his own, or someone else’s.

He nearly pissed himself when something smacked him on the backside of the head, startling him awake with a jolt and immediately forcing him into a sitting position.

When he regained his bearings, he saw Ellie standing next to the bed with a cheeky grin on her face, the pillow she’d hit him with clutched tightly in her hands. Joel reached a hand to cradle the back of his head, still reeling from the sudden and abrupt intrusion on his rest.

“Now why the hell would you go and do a thing like that?”

He tried to sound angry, intimidating, but his grogginess created a more bewildered tone than anything. Ellie snickered wickedly, her eyes lit up with mischief.

“I was making sure you weren’t fuckin’ dead. You’ve been asleep for more than a day.”

Joel’s eyes darted from her figure out towards the window, where the afternoon sun was just beginning to fall, the horizon line painted with fiery shades of crimson and gold. His brow furrowed.

“We got in early this mornin’, what are you even talking about?”

He laid back down with a grunt, making a move to roll over and get some more shut-eye, but Ellie grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stay facing her.

“No, genius. We got in early yesterday morning.”

He slowly pulled himself upright in bed, again, face pinched together in confusion.

“No, that’s not—no.”

He insisted, although he forced himself to shimmy from beneath the covers and onto his feet, walking towards the window to gaze outside more closely.

Ellie watched his movements with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Seems like you really needed the sleep, huh, Joel?”

His brain felt foggy, muddied with exhaustion. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d allowed himself to sleep freely—but in the comfort of a home, with four walls and a roof, an inviting mattress with somewhat intact blankets, he finally succumbed to the fatigue that consumed him.

Joel startled when Ellie lightly smacked the pillow against his back in an effort to regain his attention.

“Your brother’s waiting for you outside. I would’ve let you sleep forever, but he told me to come wake you up.”

He ran a tired hand down his face before he settled both hands on his hips, looking down at Ellie just as her lips curled into a teasing grin.

“Besides, your girlfriend is worried about you.”

Joel blinked, his brows lowering into a glare that he aimed towards the girl.

“Knock it off. Go tell Tommy I’ll be there in five minutes.”

When she finally left him in peace, her footsteps fading down the staircase with heavy stomps, Joel sat back down on the edge of the bed, trying to quell the headache that was already forming behind his eyes. Christ, he’d really slept that long?

His mind flickered to you. He hadn’t seen you since he'd returned—of course, you were the first thing on his mind when he’d passed through the gates of Jackson, but he was too ashamed to face you. Your most recent interaction hadn’t been particularly friendly, and he wasn’t quite sure how you’d react to seeing him, even several months later.

But Ellie had already stopped in to see you—he caught sight of the butterfly bandages placed atop the gouge in her forehead, holding the wound closed with precision. He imagined the gentleness in your fingers as you’d treated the wound, the fondness in your eyes that undoubtedly sparked when you spoke with the girl—the same look you’d once held for Sarah.

With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet again, slipping a flannel over his black t-shirt and lacing up his boots. Much to his surprise, he found himself pausing in the entrance of the bathroom to check his appearance. There was a toothbrush, and toothpaste, and he allowed himself to indulge in the amenities the quaint household provided—rinsing his face with cool water, putting on deodorant, combing through his grown-out hair with his fingers. God, when was the last time he’d actually thought about how he looked? You always brought out the strangest parts of him.

Tommy lifted a brow when his brother finally exited the front door, closing it shut behind him.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

He teased, smirking lightly at Joel. The man rolled his shoulders back, feeling his joints pop and his bones creak in protest. He cracked his neck before fixing his eyes on Tommy.

“Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

Tommy chuckled, beginning to trek towards the town square with Joel trailing closely behind.

“I know how you are about keepin’ watch while you’re out there. When’s the last time you got more than a few hours of shut-eye?”

Joel didn’t reply, which was enough of a response for Tommy to know his assumptions had been correct.

“Where’s Ellie?”

He asked finally, immediately noticing the lack of the girl’s presence—especially considering that they hadn’t been apart for practically a year.

“At the stables. She likes helpin’ out there, gets along with the horses.”

Joel hummed in response.

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the crackling of gravel beneath their uniformed footfalls.

Tommy walked him right to the entrance to the MEDICAL facility.

“She don’t wanna see me.”

Joel grumbled, and although his eyes were cast to the ground, they quickly shot up to stare at his brother at the sound of his incredulous laughter. Tommy shook his head at him.

“Oh, please. She’s been worryin’ herself sick over your sorry ass.”

Joel’s expression softened a bit at Tommy’s admission, and the nerves that were clinging to his insides were briefly replaced with a pang of guilt. His brother sighed, leaning in a bit closer and lowering his voice.

“Look, you didn’t hear this from me, alright? But—about three days after you took off, she tried to follow you.”

Joel felt his jaw go slack at the information, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides.

Tommy took notice of his reaction, but continued nonetheless.

“Tried to sneak out between guard shifts. Luckily Maria and I caught her in time—I had a feelin’ she'd pull somethin’ like that, but—she was a wreck, Joel. Haven’t seen her so upset since her momma’s funeral.”

Joel’s eyes fell to the ground once more, his throat feeling hoarse with emotion. He didn’t deserve that. You shouldn’t have been willing to risk your life for him. Not after everything he’d done.

Tommy clapped a hand onto Joel shoulder.

“Go on, man. She’ll be glad to see you’re still kickin’—and she’ll be able to help you with all your...”

Tommy gestured to Joel’s face with a vague wave of his hand, referencing the various nicks and bruises he’d acquired along his journey.

Joel watched his brother walk away from him, hands sitting heavy in his pockets.

Someone exiting the clinic brought his attention back to the building in front of him—he watched a teenage girl with ginger hair shuffle out of the door, a plastic baggy of feminine products clutched tightly in her hands.

Joel reached to hold the door open for her, and she offered him a brief grateful smile before departing, leaving the man to enter the waiting room with his stomach churning with nerves.

There were people in there, this time. An older gentleman in a rocking chair, a dated magazine held in front of his face, and a young Asian man sitting behind the makeshift reception counter. The boy smiled meekly as Joel cautiously walked further into the place.

“Welcome in. You’re... Joel, right?”

He asked, brows raised knowingly. Joel nodded, a bit surprised that his name was already known to someone outside of his immediate circle.

The boy turned to the other occupant of the room.

“Hey, Ron? Do you mind coming back in tomorrow morning? Doc said that him and the girl get priority treatment.”

The boy jutted his thumb towards Joel in reference, and he stuttered.

“Wha—no, I don’t need—”

“No problem, Ian. Let ‘er know I stopped by, okay? Just wanted her to check on my bum shoulder.”

Ron accepted the news graciously, a bit overzealous for what the situation called for. He stood to take his leave, offering a crooked smile to the two other men.

“Tell Y/N I said to have a good night.”

He winked playfully, and Joel’s nose crinkled slightly, although Ian just laughed it off.

“You got it, sir.”

The bell chimed when the door shut behind Ron, and Ian turned back to Joel.

“She’ll just be another minute.”

He assured, subtly hinting that Joel could take a seat somewhere in the waiting room. The man awkwardly nodded in thanks before slowly making his way over to the nearest piece of furniture. Just as he went to sit himself down on the worn leather sofa, the door to the office pushed open.

“—and just let me know if you’re feeling any more discomfort, okay? Hopefully those meds will help, but if not, we can try something a little stronger.”

Your voice spilled from the open doorway, your figure following closely behind a middle-aged woman whose arm was in a sling.

“Thanks, doc, I appreciate it.”

The woman smiled, and Joel watched your eyes crinkle as you grinned in return.

“Hey, it’s no problem, really. Can’t wait to hear more about the harvest yields for this Spring.”

You sounded sincere, but Joel knew you well enough to recognize the slight sarcastic lilt to your tone, and he felt the corner of his lip twitch upward at your feigned enthusiasm.

The woman nodded gratefully, opening her mouth as if to continue the aforementioned conversation, but then your eyes flitted to Joel’s awaiting figure and you lifted a hand to cut her off.

“Sorry, Opal, but I’ve got another patient to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You were gentle but firm, and the woman nodded in understanding, eyes passing over Joel briefly before she offered a modest farewell and exited the facility.

The air stagnated between the two of you, eyes simply drinking each other in without words being spoken. After a few tense moments of silence, your face turned towards Ian, although your eyes were still trained on Joel’s face.

“Hey, kid, thanks for your help today. Why don’t you head out early and enjoy the nice weather?”

Ian’s head perked up at your suggestion.

“Really? You sure?”

You glanced at him finally, smiling softly.

“Of course. This’ll be my last client for the day, anyhow. And don’t worry, I’ll still mark you off for the full shift.”

You offered, and the boy thanked you once more before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following in Opal’s steps as he pushed through the door.

You were alone.

Joel didn’t know what to say, but luckily, you offered him some reprieve by breaking the silence yourself.

“So. I see you’re out of hibernation.”

Your right brow quirked upward slightly, the scar on your face creasing as you smirked teasingly at him. He felt himself grow bashful.

“Yeah, I—I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was ‘til I woke up a day and a half later.”

The angelic sound of your laughter was divine as you regarded him softly, a warm smile lighting up your features.

“Hey, your body obviously needed the sleep. Heard you’ve been through Hell and back since the last time I saw you.”

His face darkened slightly, his features turning stony. He shifted his gaze away from your face, knowing that you were the only person capable of cracking him open with just a single glance.

“What all did she tell you?”

He asked quietly, referring to Ellie. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Most of it, I think.”

Joel rolled his eyes, a low groan of annoyance escaping him.

“Can never keep her fuckin’ mouth shut.”

He mumbled to himself, but you obviously heard.

“Hey, don’t be mad at her. Like I told you before, I’m easy to talk to. That’s part of my job, anyway—70 percent doctor, 20 percent therapist.”

Your smile was lopsided as you joked with him.

“What about the other ten?”

He questioned, feeding into your playful banter. You laughed.

“Ten percent is me pretending to know what the fuck I’m doing.”

A small smile invaded his face before he could stop it, and you reciprocated the gesture, your eyes twinkling with triumph at your ability to make the seemingly unbreakable man surrender his defenses, even if just for a second.

You gestured with a slight nod of your head for him to join you in the examination room—you were a bit embarrassed with yourself when you felt your heart rate pick up when Joel started walking towards you, your face flushing when he briefly towered over you while brushing past through the door.

Without any prompting, he found his place on the steel exam table without complaint. You let the door click shut behind you as you walked towards your desk, grabbing a pair of latex gloves.

“Heard someone tried to use you for batting practice.”

You started, making your way towards him on the table. He shook his head slightly at your joke, his hand instinctually reaching up to rest over where the wound was still healing.

“Yeah. It—well, wasn’t great. Got infected, too. Told Ellie she shoulda come back here and left me, but she’s too damn stubborn for her own good.”

“Hmm. Sounds a lot like someone else I know.”

You teased, stopping a few feet in front of him. He rolled his eyes.

“Can you take of your shirt?”

Your question startled him, his body tensing as he lips parted slightly, brows furrowed as he studied your face. Your inquiry was serious, he realized.

“What—I don’t—”

You genuinely hadn’t comprehended the implications of your statement—it was just standard protocol; you needed to examine his injury. But you saw a blush creeping up his cheeks beneath his patchy beard, and your body mimicked the response.

“Sorry. I mean—you don’t have to, but I need to see how everything’s healing up. You can just lift it up if that’d make you more comfortable.”

A wicked retort sprang to his mind and rolled over his tongue—he didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until he watched your eyes widen at his words.

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Joel’s own eyes widened as his inhale turned sharp, surprised and somewhat appalled with himself. Your expression mirrored his own, heat pooling in your cheeks as you froze, paralyzed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, that just—dunno why I said that, just reminded me of that time you—”

“I remember.”

You cut him off curtly, face and neck stinging with embarrassment. It was a call back to one of your prior shameless flirtation attempts when you were young—the same night your mother died, the same night he kissed you for the very first time.

“I’m… surprised, that you do.”

His brows furrowed at that. An ache settled somewhere within his ribcage, squeezing around his heart.

“Darlin’—I remember everythin’. All of it.”

You looked away, trying to keep yourself in the present moment—you could feel yourself slipping back into your memories, the night he’d left you, cold and alone on your living room floor. The things he’d said. The truth he’d spilled.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, taking a slow deep breath to combat his own humiliation. Before he could wallow in anticipation any longer, he shouldered off his red flannel and lifted the black undershirt over his head, setting it at his side.

Oh, God, you felt faint. Nauseous, even. How many times had you thought about this? Sure, you’d seen Joel shirtless on a couple occasions—at the pool a few times, when he just rolled out of bed in the morning, when the Texas heat was too unbearable. But that was years ago. And now—it felt different, now. More intimate.

You took in a deep breath, walking towards him with purpose. Focus, damnit. This is your job.

But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the newly exposed skin of his torso. His chest was smattered with faint salt-and-pepper curls, his skin peppered with white scars and abrasions that contrasted the tan of his skin. The muscles of his pectorals flexed, and your eyes wandered over the soft expanse of his stomach, before settling in on the wound on his lower right side.

“Can you lie back for me?”

Your words sounded somewhat breathless, and you cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away from his chest to meet his eyes. There was doubt swirling behind them, insecurity, and your heart yearned to comfort him, to press your lips to every inch of skin and assure him that he’s still as beautiful as he was twenty years ago, your feelings hadn’t changed, Joel, I still love—

Joel heeded your request, turning to the side and cautiously lowering himself down onto his back, the cold steel like ice against his skin, causing him to hiss.

You inhaled through your nose when you finally approached him, closing the gap and leaning in to inspect the area more closely.

It was healing up well, all things considered. The skin surrounding the wound was inflamed, but it certainly could be worse. However, the crude blue thread that had been used to stitch his skin closed was mildly concerning to you.

Joel felt your hair tickle against the skin of his abdomen, the light brush of your gloved fingers tracing over the afflicted area.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to focus on the way your hot breath felt against his lower stomach. The last time you’d been this close to him, you were on your knees between his legs the night before his birthday.

“You know,”

He started softly, mulling the words over in his mind before speaking.

“you seem to remember more than I thought you did, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers stilling over his skin at his statement. You knew exactly what he was referring to—the confession you’d regrettably included in the farewell letter you’d given him before he left Jackson with Ellie. You probably shouldn’t have remembered, but it was hard not to—the rest of that night was a blur, sure, your memory clouded over from the mixture of liquor and drugs in your bloodstream, but you couldn’t forget the way he’d laid beside you, his lips brushing over your fingers, your hands tracing the outline of his face so you could commit it to memory, keep it close to you. The promise he’d made.

“S’all I’ve ever wanted, Joel. All I think I’ll ever want—to be with you.”

You’d confessed with bleary eyes.

“Will you kiss me, Joel?”

The tenderness in his eyes suffocated you, smothering you with the uncharacteristic softness of his gaze.

“Tell you what,”

he’d said.

“You close your eyes, and keep ‘em closed for five minutes, and I’ll kiss you.”

“I’m gonna have to remove the stitches.”

You stated, tone suddenly cold and matter-of-fact as you pulled yourself out of your recollection.

His head lifted to look at you just as you turned towards the shelf on the wall, retrieving some supplies and setting them on a metal surgical tray.

“Why? S’healin’ fine.”

He insisted, and you pursed your lips, sliding the cart closer to you so you’d have the supplies at the ready.

“We can keep them in, if you really want, but that could lead to some serious complications down the road. This is sewing thread, Joel, it won’t dissolve on it’s own. If your skin heals over it, it could lead to more infection and a nasty looking scar.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, not particularly excited about the prospect of reopening an old wound, picking at the scab. If only he knew that’s exactly what he was forcing you to do...

“Joel? Is that okay? I’ll numb it first.”

You slid your office chair up towards his face, leaning over him slightly to catch his eyes. Your silhouette was framed by the harsh light behind your head, creating a fuzzy halo of glow around you. He nodded dumbly, somewhat hypnotized by your proximity—shit, he’d let you do just about anything to him if you looked at him like that.

He watched you slide back down towards his waist, your hand dipping into the half-empty tub of lidocaine ointment and swiping a generous amount on your index finger. Joel hissed when the cooling sensation hit his skin, your touch smoothing it over his tender flesh carefully.

“Sorry.”

You whispered absentmindedly, reaching for your forceps and a pair of small medical scissors.

“Let me know if it hurts, okay? The internal abrasion seems to be healed, it’s just the entrance wound left. It shouldn’t bleed too much and you shouldn’t be able to feel it, but there might be a slight pinching sensation. Okay?”

“Jesus, you sound like a real doctor.”

He chuckled quietly to himself, folding his hands atop his chest and trying to relax as he felt you move towards the wound. You let out a breath of a laugh.

“Yeah, well, maybe not officially licensed, but by apocalypse standards…”

Your forceps tucked beneath the loop of the first suture, gently coaxing it out from beneath the scar tissue. His abdominal muscles rippled, but you forced yourself to focus.

“I’m about as qualified as they come.”

He let you work in silence for the most part, teeth gritted and jaw clenched tightly as you pulled each stitch out cautiously. He definitely wasn’t gonna admit to you that he could feel each pull of string beneath his skin, tugging against the tender flesh of his insides.

“Ellie didn’t do half bad.”

You chuckled slightly, discarding another removed stitch on your tray.

“Might be givin’ me a run for my money.”

You heard Joel huff.

“Yeah, well, lemme tell you—you’ve certainly got a gentler touch, that’s for sure.”

That earned a giggle from you, although you immediately quieted when Joel grunted in pain as the stitch you were working on got caught on the edge of his torn skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

You whispered, one hand reaching to soothingly rub across the healthy, untarnished skin just above the wound, on his lower stomach. Joel squeezed his eyes shut tightly at the feeling of your fingers brushing across his navel, his brows pinched with pain. Or, at least, you thought it was pain. He knew differently.

When you got down to the final two sutures, your eyes grew soft.

“You’re lucky to be alive, cowboy.”

Your breathy laugh was humorless, more an expression of disbelief than humor. He shook his head in acknowledgement, humming.

“Believe me. Say that to myself that every damn day.”

“No, Joel.”

His head lifted at the sincerity in your tone as you removed the final stitch. You reached for a sterile piece of gauze, soaking it in antiseptic solution before carefully wiping away the blood that had begun to seep from the site of the removed suture.

“This... this should’ve killed you.”

His features softened just slightly as the severity of your remark dawned on him. He knew you were probably right. He’d felt himself slipping several times when he was fighting for his life on that dingy mattress in that musty basement—but he always pulled himself back.

“Couldn’t let that happen.”

He admitted quietly, letting his muscles final relax as you finished cleaning up his injury.

“Ellie... she needed me.”

You were silent as you moved to dispose of the used supplies, putting the rest back in the rightful spots on the shelf.

Joel watched your movements carefully, the contortion of your shoulder blades beneath your deep purple scrubs as you reached up on your tiptoes to put something on a high shelf. When you’d finished, you paused for a moment with your back facing him. He saw your fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically at your sides.

“M’sorry, Joel.”

You finally spoke, voice quiet.

“About everything I said. I shouldn’t have—”

“You were right.”

Joel Miller wasn’t sure he’d ever said those words aloud before—he was never one to admit he was wrong or own up to his mistakes, too prideful and headstrong for his own good. You turned to face him, your eyes cloudy as they scanned his face, scrutinizing his features carefully. He propped himself up on his elbows.

“About Ellie. About—about me. Wouldn’t’ve been able to live with myself if somethin’ had happened to her, if I hadn’t been there. I almost—”

He felt tears spring to his eyes as he thought back on the moment Ellie had rushed into his arms, face speckled with blood.

“—almost lost her, and I couldn’t—”

“—I know.”

You cut him off softly, taking a few steps towards him to sit back down in your chair and roll closer to him. He was grateful that you’d granted him a reprieve from speaking. He rapidly blinked back the tears flooding him.

“She told me. About—about David.”

Joel’s brows lifted, his eyes on yours.

“She did?”

He asked, slightly breathless and entirely surprised.

“She never—I still don’t know everythin’ that happened, she didn’t wanna talk—”

“I think that’s probably for the best.”

You nodded sadly, and Joel watched the movement of your arm as it lifted and reached for his hand, fingers wrapping around his comfortingly. The feeling of your soft skin against the callousness of his palm made his pulse jump.

“I’m—I’m glad she told you.”

He started slowly, eyes still fixated on your intertwined fingers.

“Glad she has someone to talk to.”

Your grin was small, but genuine, and you lifted your other hand to clasp his between both of your own.

“It’s good to get that stuff of your chest.”

You agreed, and Joel nodded quietly, letting his head fall back against the steel table as he stared up at the ceiling. Your next words made him falter.

“Speaking of… you ever gonna tell anyone what really happened in Salt Lake City?”

Joel’s neck almost snapped with how quickly he turned to stare at you. His mouth fell open, and you quickly backtracked at his abrupt reaction, pulling your hands away.

“I mean—it doesn’t have to be me, I’m just sayin’—it’s not good for you, to carry that all by yourself. That shit’s gonna eat you alive.”

His mind was racing, thoughts stumbling over each other at a mile per minute. You must’ve interpreted his silence as disapproval, because you sighed as you rolled your chair across the room towards your desk, busying yourself with the papers that were scattered about.

Joel pushed himself upward into a sitting position, his legs dangling off the side and his back leaning against the wall. He watched you carefully, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he reeled.

You cautiously breached the silence that permeated the room, although you still pretended to be preoccupied with another task.

“Ellie told me what you’d said—about what happened. They stopped lookin’ for a cure, there were others who were immune. Who knows, maybe that really is the truth, but I feel like I know you better than that, and I—”

“I killed them.”

It was barely above a whisper, his confession, but you heard it loud and clear. The statement rang through your ears like a church bell, vibrating within your skull. You froze, slowly turning to face Joel once again. He seemed to be staring straight through you, his face set in resolution and jaw rippling as he continued.

“All of ‘em. They—they were gonna kill ’er. The fungus, it’s—s’in her brain, they said the only way to get a sample was to... to—”

You nodded knowingly, standing up from your chair to approach him slowly, your eyes soft and sympathetic. He felt gross, disgusting, repulsive, your gaze far too tender for the atrocities he was admitting to. His breath hitched caught in his throat when he tried to speak again, the tears he had been rapidly blinking away gathering back in his waterline.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t. I mean—she’s just a kid, they didn’t understand, and—they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I had—had to go through them, it was the only way—only way to save ‘er."

A tear fell from his left eye, overflowing until it slipped down the side of his cheek. He reached up to swipe it away as you finally reached him. You were paused in front of him, standing between his widely spread legs. Your eyes never wandered from his.

You knew what he meant—knew deep down why he did what he did, even if he wouldn’t or couldn’t admit it. He’d lost Sarah. He couldn’t lose another daughter. Not on his watch.

He flinched away when your hand reached up to cradle his face, your thumb swiping over his tear-stained cheek as your fingers slipped behind his ear, threading into his hair. No, you shouldn’t be touching him, he didn’t deserve your pity—

“You can’t tell her.”

He suddenly begged, his hand reaching up to grab your wrist desperately, his eyes wide and pleading.

“She can never know, Y/N, she’d never forgive me, I need you to—“

“It’s alright, cowboy. You have my word. Okay?”

The self-hatred he felt was sickening him, festering deeply in the pit of his stomach even as your thumb rubbed soothingly against his cheek, over his graying beard.

Why didn’t you hate him? Why were you still here? He was a monster, he was evil, sick, twisted—

“Stop.”

He finally came to his senses, using his grip on your wrist to pull your hand away from him and gently urge you to step backwards.

“Stop, don’t—don’t go feelin’ sorry for me, don’t go and—and—you don’t know all the things I’ve done, you don’t—”

“I know you, Joel.”

Even though it was gentle, your tone was firm and insistent.

“I know you. I might not know all the things you’ve done, but that doesn’t change who you are, deep down.”

He shook his head. You didn’t understand, couldn’t understand—

“We’re like trees.”

His brows furrowed at that, confusion evident on his face at your sudden and seemingly random shift in conversation.

“Tree trunks, they—they have rings. The innermost ring of the tree is the oldest, and as the trees grow, as time passes, new rings are added, but the core of it always stays the same.”

You pressed yourself closer again, meeting his resistance with ample willpower.

“It doesn’t matter if the outer layers wither, if they decay, if they’re ugly—it’s still the same tree on the inside.”

He shook his head. You and your stupid fucking analogies.

“You don’t get it. ’M not who I was. I’m—everythin’ about me is bad, Y/N, I’m—I’ve rotted straight through to my core.”

To his surprise, you smiled at him, sad but reassuring, shaking your head.

“No. You’re still here. You’re still standing. If the badness had reached all the way to your middle, you’d just be a stump.”

“Can we stop with this damn metaphor? M’not a fuckin’ tree.”

He grumbled, but then you were moving closer against him, standing between his splayed legs with your hips flush against the metal edge of the table as you pushed your chest against his bare torso. His breath hitched.

“No, you’re not. But you’re still Joel. Yeah, things are different. But I still see him in there, the person I knew, the person I—I loved. See it when you look at Ellie, and Tommy. See it when you laugh. See it in your eyes.”

No, no, no—what was he doing? You were so good, so painfully kind, and good, and his poison was going to seep into your fingertips and taint your perfect disposition.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been the person you thought I was.”

His eyes met yours, and he could see your face fall slightly before you recovered, helplessly trying to change his mind.

“Maybe not. But you already said it today—you remember. You remember the way things were, the person you used to be. Those memories, those reminders—they’re proof. Your now can’t erase the then.”

You felt dizzy, lightheaded—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to stop, back off, you’re gonna hurt yourself all over again, slam the door and walk away—but the despondency in his eyes was simply devastating. It was always his damn eyes.

His entire body seized up tight when you slowly lowered your head down towards his stomach, maintaining eye contact as your warm breath passed over his navel. He watched on silently as your lips brushed over the wound you’d just tended to, featherlight and barely-there, but the touch was searingly hot.

“The same Joel who had magic kisses.”

You raised your head again, lifting your arms to wrap loosely around his neck, coaxing him forward towards you. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He let you guide him closer into your embrace.

“The same Joel who can’t wrap a damn Christmas gift."

His lip slightly quirked up at the corner as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“The same Joel who’s never been to a college party.”

His eyelids fluttered as your nose brushed against his. You were gazing at him from beneath your lashes, tempting and so damn sweet. He felt your warm exhale across his cheeks.

“The same Joel who still owes me that kiss.”

For a brief moment, he lost himself, his mind emptying until all that was left was you, everywhere, overwhelming and all-consuming. But as you leaned forward to close the gap, he knew he couldn’t do this to you. Not again. Couldn’t let you give yourself away to someone so unworthy.

“Your dad.”

He said suddenly, his words loud and intruding in the small distance between you. You felt the vibrations on your lips when he spoke, and you drew back quickly, the haze of desire in your eyes replaced with a puzzled look.

“What?”

Joel stared you down, arming himself against your targeted attacks on his protective barriers.

“Your—your old man. He was one of the doctors at the Firefly hospital.”

His words rammed into you like a fucking semitruck, the wind momentarily knocked out of you. You stumbled back slightly, your shoulders bracing with tension as a new emotion flickered over your face—fear.

“You’re—you’re lying.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”

Joel's brief apathy corroded at the sight of such horror on your face, his eyes flooding with tears yet again as he squeezed them shut. He had the sudden uncontrollable urge to wrap you in his arms and shield you from the world, to protect you—but how could he? How could he possibly protect you from himself?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—by the time I’d realized, it was already too late, and I—”

“I didn’t even think he was still alive.”

His lids snapped open to look at you once more where the initial shock on your face had worn off, replaced with a frigid sort of acceptance, a jarring finality. Joel felt like he was suffering from whiplash at your abrupt change in demeanor.

“Never got close enough to see him in California. At least now I know.”

You couldn’t be fucking serious. You were just... content with this? Forgiving Joel so easily, so readily? What the fuck was wrong with you?

But then he saw the way your posture shifted, suddenly on the defensive, your stare now pierced with suspicion and criticism. The tenderness in your eyes had shifted to communicate your wariness, your distrust. For the first time, it was like you were looking into the face of a stranger.

Somehow, he felt more comfortable with this than the love you’d so shamelessly displayed for him just moments prior. This, he deserved. This, he could handle.

“Y/N—”

“I think you should go.”

You declared curtly, shutting him out completely as your turned away. You felt your heart begin to split in two all over again—you hated the sudden animosity you felt towards the man you cared so deeply for, but it was threatening to overwhelm you as you listened to him sigh heavily, his feet thumping against the ground as he slid off of the table.

You heard the rustling of his clothes as he slipped his shirt back over his head, his posture sagging lowly as he stared at your back, the distance between you two only widening with each shaky rise and fall of your shoulders.

It was better this way, Joel convinced himself. Better for you to hate him than to love him. Better for him to push you away than to let you back in. Better for both of you to keep moving forward without looking back—better to hurt you a little now before he hurt you a lot later.

He left without another word.

TAGLIST: @spiidergirlsworld @canpillowscry @str84pedro @daddy-din @pedropascal-whore @canpillowscry @pppmitt @thirdoffive @lovekk2plus @elliescumsl0t @kagajgajaguwbeidheubqk @cookielovesbook-akie @kamcrazy123 @ohnosy @dayrdreaming @notsosecretspy @arquiiva (please comment to be added/removed)

[wordywarriorwrites]

Calendar Girl: December

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

December

Joel was three servings deep on a surprisingly decent single malt when he realized the two of you were seated directly beneath the mistletoe.

You’d made an effort to be festive - donned a dark green sweater and a red knitted cap. Joel hadn’t even tried - just rolled up to the Christmas Eve gathering in his usual flannel and jeans. Every few minutes, his eyes swept over the crowd with a cold indifference most of the townsfolk still hadn’t gotten used to, whereas you waved at nearly everyone who passed by, and they greeted you warmly in return.

He recalled how you’d smiled up at him the very first time all those sunrises and sunsets ago. Your kind, welcoming eyes had been nonjudgmental, open, and endearingly curious. In fact, you’d made his world go topsy-turvy that day, and things hadn’t been quite the same since.

Something about you had revived and coaxed out parts of him he’d thought dead and buried long ago. But he played it very close to the vest - not only because you’re half his age and completely out of his league, but also because you deserved more than his old bones and bloodied hands could ever give you.

You deserved better. You deserved the fucking best.

Everyone in Jackson adored you, and they were right to do so. Even after all you’d been through, all the pain and loss you’d endured, you were still so good. Joel, on the other hand, had always been a blunt instrument - contractor, smuggler, killer, guardian. And sure, he may have been permitted to be a member of the town, but he’d never been widely well-liked or fully embraced - not in the way you and Ellie had been.

For the longest time, the need to protect Ellie and keep her safe had outweighed everything, including any misgivings he’d had about a prolonged stay in Jackson. But after a year in your continued presence, he realized he stayed because you’d made him remember what it felt like to actually want something - to want someone - for himself.

And the longer he remained, the more invested he became.

Rushed meetings, focused on getting assigned a house, learning the town rules, and being added to the job rotations. Then, more prolonged conversations over meals in the mess hall. In the past few months, there’d been walks and rides and movies and books. Ellie liked you, trusted you, and seemed to enjoy your company as well. The more time Joel spent with you, the more he realized he wasn’t just attracted to you; he’d started to feel comfortable - maybe even safe - with you, and that complicated things.

It wasn’t until you polished off your drink, and the tip of your tongue darted out to catch a wayward drop, that Joel started to think about your mouth and all the ways he’d enjoy it if you ever became his. And as his thoughts continued to mosey on down that unlikely, dangerous path for what seemed like the trillionth time, he realized your tongue would taste especially good coated in whisky - all warm, smoky, and sweet. 

“Any plans for tomorrow?” you asked in a conversational tone.

Joel shrugged away his treacherous thoughts and raised his hand for a refill, “Might visit Tommy and his family. Hang out with Ellie. You know, the usual.”

You nodded. Offered up your plate for sharing. Joel accepted your ready-made concoction of bread, cheese, and jam; a surprisingly good combination, but then again, you’d never steered him wrong.

“What about you?” Joel wondered as he wiped crumbs from his shirt. “Spending time with Carl?”

You gestured for your own refill and waited for it to be delivered before you spoke again.

“We decided to go our separate ways,” you announced tersely.

Joel paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, “When did that happen?”

“This morning.”

You tilted your head back, and he watched as the amber liquid disappeared down your throat in one swallow. You maintained an even temperament and possessed an impressively good poker face. Even when Carl sidled up to the opposite end of the bar - bold as brass, with his arm wrapped very familiarly around another woman’s waist - you didn’t react.   

The reason for the split became all too clear, and just like that, your ex went to the top of Joel’s own special kind of Naughty List.

“You can’t kill him,” you insisted.

He rolled his jaw, “Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t his fault.”

“He’s the one who cheated. Not you.”

You let out a self-deprecating laugh, “There are different kinds of cheating.”

Joel wanted to know what you’d meant by that, but you steered the conversation out of those muddied waters, and asked about Ellie and how she was doing in school. That safe topic saw you both through another round, and while you shared another plate of food, you talked shop and swapped stories about past Christmas celebrations.

“I mean, I was eighteen when it happened,” you explained. “But I remember Christmas at my house was always a bit stuffy. Not like this, you know?”

“You mean you weren’t hanging out in a bar, doin’ shots of whisky with an old man?”

“Shut up.”

Joel smirked, “You sure you shouldn’t be at home, dreaming of sugar plums like the rest of the little children?”

You pursed your lips and smacked his shoulder, “Har-fuckin’-har.”    

While everyone in town would attend a big Christmas Day dinner, the Christmas Eve party was an adults-only affair. With the kids safely tucked into their beds, the grownups had gone out to play, and as people started to blow off steam, the party became both raucous and crowded.

Someone attempted a rendition of Elvis’ Blue Christmas and failed spectacularly. Then, the jukebox was turned on, and people danced like fools. The delicateness of pine, mixed with the headiness of firewood. Laughter and mindless chatter and a bit too much Jingle Bells.    

Joel sipped and chewed, and as he pondered your new relationship status, you ordered yourself another. As the night’s bartender hustled over, she jerked her thumb toward the ceiling, and he watched as you caught sight of the mistletoe. Something he’d hoped and feared you’d notice had been blatantly pointed out, and Joel tried not to cringe as the bartender poured and explained that it was tradition to kiss beneath it and not doing so would bring bad luck.

You waited for her to walk away before you looked at him, brow arched, “That true?”

Joel shrugged and scratched his chin, “It’s an old wives’ tale, but yeah.”

You nudged him. He nudged you back. A shared laugh, and then, a moment of hesitation. A flash of unspoken, are we really going to do this? You nodded - said it would be better not to tempt fate. Joel agreed - said he’d had enough bad luck to last a lifetime.  

Like all fires, it started with a spark; the anticipation of first contact as you both leaned toward each other on rickety, unbalanced stools. A rush of flames soon followed; your lips fitted sweetly against his, stoking the need, causing it to flare brighter.

Without any conscious thought whatsoever, Joel gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and swept his tongue into your mouth. From there, it turned into an inferno. Your nails dragged along the skin at the tape of his neck, and he introduced his teeth to your bottom lip in response. When he cupped your face in his palms and caressed the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs, you wrapped your hands around his wrists and squeezed. Joel felt the vibration of the pleased sound you let out, and as goosebumps erupted along his body, he slanted his mouth more firmly over yours, and let himself get lost in the warmth of your kiss.

A couple of very inebriated, gray-haired women singing Santa Baby at the top of their lungs bumped into you and effectively burst the bubble. They apologized profusely. You graciously waved it off. Then, you looked at him - lashes aflutter, pupils blown, and mouth all shiny and kiss-swollen; you’d never been more beautiful, and Joel would’ve happily picked up where you’d left off had you not suddenly jerked away from him and rushed to your feet.

“I have to go,” you announced abruptly.

Joel cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “Alright. You want me to walk you?”

You shook your head. Pulled on your coat. Mumbled Merry Christmas and hurried out the door.

Just his luck.

Next Chapter: January

[thirstyforcharacters]

Healing

Part 3 of the Mistakes Series

Part 1: Mistakes. Part 2: Reconnection

Summary: The past repeats itself, but Joel refuses to make the same mistake twice.

Warnings: angst!! canon typical violence, brief description of gunshot wound, Joel is finally getting good at emotions :)

WC: 1279

Notes: Hellooooo! I wasn’t sure if I was going to write a part 3, but I was inspired, so I wrote the entire thing this morning! Finally, we get to the fluffy stuff, but of course I still had to sprinkle in some angst! This is definitely the last full installment of the series, but I wouldn’t mind writing some blurbs and whatnot about these two, so if you still want to see this pairing, you can totally send me some requests for that :) or if you just want to send requests in general, feel free to do that as well! thank you all so much for reading this series: I’ve never written this much angst before, so I was afraid it wouldn’t turn out well, but I’m super thankful that you all enjoyed Mistakes!!!

PS: anything in italics is a flashback :)

Things were awkward for a while.

You didn’t feel as though you could fully trust him yet. You were too afraid of him hurting you again. But you adored Ellie, and because Ellie insisted upon you coming over and sharing her stack of comic books, Joel slowly became a more consistent figure in your life again. As spring became summer, you learned to trust him more. You told him about your solo travels, how you had taken out a raiding party single handedly and survived more than one encounter with Infected. He opened up to you as well, telling you the tale of how he and Ellie came to Jackson just a few months ago. You really felt for him: the things they had been through were terrifying, and you could see how much the two had grown to care for each other throughout their journey. And seeing the way Joel loved Ellie gave you hope. That maybe he could love you and not shut you out.

Little did you know that that theory would be tested sooner than you expected.

The two of you were paired up for patrol often (which Tommy said was because “you’re one of the only people he tolerates in this town, and I need a break sometimes.”), and today was no different. You were trudging along the craggy mountain path, stepping over long, broken branches, dodging wildlife, and trying not to make too much noise. During this part of the patrol, you always walked in silence, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. There would be time for talking once you got to the safehouse, a cabin that you were now about halfway to.

The silence was broken by a gunshot. You barely remembered what happened next.

You collapsed to the ground, pressing your hand to your stomach as it became coated with red.

Joel couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe as he saw you fall. He could only think of the first time.

“Sweetheart, please.”

His pleas fell upon deaf ears. Your eyes had fluttered shut as you lost consciousness, unable to reply.

“JOEL!”

Tess’s shout was the only thing that pulled him from his own head. He had never moved so fast, scooping you up without a second thought and sprinting after Tess, carrying you the entire way to Bill and Frank’s without rest.

“Y/n will be okay, Joel,” Tess assured him, “Frank will take care of things.”

Joel nodded, barely hearing as he ran. He needed you. Holy shit, he needed you. More than he needed anyone else in this god-forsaken hellscape. He loved you too much.

He shook it off, seeing the concealed figures through the bushes. He saw red, going after the raiders with a rage he had only felt a few times. When Sarah was shot. When he killed an entire warehouse of Fireflies for Ellie. And now, for you.

The raiders had no chance. They dropped like flies under Joel’s thunderous fury, with knives sunk into their stomachs, gunshots to their hearts, and fists breaking in their faces until they could speak no more. When they were all dead, the threat of any danger to you taken care of, he ran to your side, seeing your eyes were already closed.

“Shit,” he hissed, quickly tearing off strips of his shirt to tie around you and attempt to staunch the bleeding, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Not fuckin dying on my watch.”

He picked you up, not unlike the first time, as he ran to Jackson. The year and a half between the first time he did this and now was affecting him: his legs burned and his breaths were ragged. But he didn’t stop. Not for a goddamn minute. He needed you.

It felt far too long before he saw the towering, wooden gates to the town, which swung open almost immediately as the gatekeepers saw the scene before them. Joel sprinted down the streets, carrying your limp body to the infirmary.

The doors burst open as Dr. Casey and two nurses saw Joel, frantically looking around with you in his arms.

“Raiders,” was all he could get out, but they understood.

“Here,” the doctor said as calmly as she could, gesturing toward a table, “we’ll get the bullet out and stitch Y/n up. Don’t worry.”

Joel grit his teeth. Don’t worry? How in the absolute hell was he supposed to do that? But he didn’t say a thing as Dr. Casey got to work. He trusted the doctor fully: she was one of the few people who actually was a doctor before everything went to shit, so she knew what she was doing. But he was terrified. He just got you back, and he could lose you again.

One of the nurses, Allen, who had been there when you were first brought to Jackson, looked at him and said, “Joel. Y/n will be okay. We promise.”

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as the door swung open again.

It was Ellie, who for once, didn’t speak. She just gently took Joel’s hand and led him to their home. And he broke down, holding one of his girls as he cried for the other.

It was a few hours before a knock sounded as his door.

It was Allen, who had a soft smile on his face.

“Y/n’s fine. Lost a decent bit of blood, so she’s still weak. But she’s okay. Do you want to se-”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence as Joel bolted past him in the direction of the clinic.

Ellie giggled, “Sorry, he’s just excited. So I’ll thank you for the both of us.”

Allen nodded, smiling a little wider, “Whole town thought he’d be a grump forever. But having both of you in his life seems like it’s helping.”

She smiled, “It’s not just helping him.”

The door to the infirmary burst open again, but with a much different purpose. You were in the corner. You were bandaged and pretty beat up, but you were alive. You and Dr. Casey looked up at the sound of the wooden doors banging against the wall. You couldn’t help the fond smile that made its way onto your features as a blur of a black flannel and blue jeans burst onto the scene, wrapping you up into his tight embrace.

“I’ll leave you alone,” the doctor whispered before disappearing into a back room.

“‘M okay, Joel,” you murmured, your voice muffled into the fabric of his shirt, “you saved me. I’m okay.”

Hearing your voice confirm the very words he needed to hear allowed him to catch his breath.

“Thought I lost you again,” he said, gripping your shirt with calloused hands.

You shook your head, “Didn’t lose me.”

He pulled away, gently cupping your face in his hands. You could see the wetness beginning to gather in his eyes.

“I-” he swallowed hard, “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, “I won’t leave you.”

There was still a bit of fear in you. There was still a chance of him pushing you away as soon as you were healed. You were terrified of that possibility.

But any fear you had immediately washed away as his lips pressed to yours. It was years in the making, and the way you felt when you connected made you wish it had happened years ago. He cupped your face so delicately, and his lips mirrored the softness of his hands, kissing you so tenderly you could cry.

It ended too soon, Joel pulling away to whisper, “I’m not leaving you, either. Ever again.”

And you knew it was safe to believe him.

[lillaydee]

Matchmade Part 2

Millionaire! Joel Miller / Reader

Having experienced traumatic, life altering events, a freshly divorced Joel worked to repay his debt to the person he owed his life to.

WARNINGS:

Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Character Death, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 1

---

***So many possibly inaccurate medical jargons and conditions ahead. I don't know why i keep writing about medical conditions - I am nowhere near the Doctor spectrum occupation-wise. Just a shit ton of Grey's Anatomy and House. So, sorry about that.***

What? No, that’s impossible. She was there. She must be hiding. He had only known her for a day, but she seemed like the type. He had to make sure she was safe.

Joel’s thoughts were suddenly lost. He had lost consciousness, his energy completely depleted, he had lost too much blood. Tommy radioed the main boat, and they called for help. His heart had stopped by the time they got to the main boat, and he had to be shocked several times to get it going again. Soon after, he was flown into the nearest hospital, Tommy going with him, praying to God his brother would make it.

He was severely injured. Aside from the many, many, many lacerations and sunburn that he had, he was also severely concussed, his stomach wound had festered, nearing sepsis, he had a fever, his lungs were partly filled with seawater and debris, his main organs affected by it all, not to mention, a few bruised and cracked ribs, and hairline fractures on his arm and leg bones. The doctors were shocked when Tommy told them he was mobile when first spotted, one wouldn’t be able to tell from the extent of his injuries.  

When he finally woke up from his surgery, his first question was about Sarah. She’s at home, with Tess, Tommy told him. She was far too young to see him like that. He asked what happened. They received a distress call from the boat, fire in the engine room. It blew up. So far, he was the only one found. How long had it been? Five days, Tommy said. Joel only remembered being on the island for a night. He must have been unconscious for three days before he woke up.

The doctor said he was extremely lucky. If the boat hadn’t spotted him when it did, he would be dead that very night from the bleeding. He was lucky he was unconscious; the wood plugged his wound from bleeding too much until he pulled it out. The water and food he consumed definitely helped, too. He would’ve just slipped in his sleep from dehydration of he hadn’t had a drink.

Joel asked about Allison. Allie. The doctor looked a little apprehensive before answering – he was concussed, it was mostly delirium. He was seeing things. The rescue team went and scoured that island. No one was there.

Joel couldn’t understand. She was there. He wouldn’t have been alive and rescued if not for her. She woke him up when it rained, made him drink and clean his wound, made him plant the makeshift flag, made him go get the crackers, which he wouldn’t have found on his own, weak as he was. She woke him up when the boat was sighted. She made him draw their attention.

He would be long dead if not for her.

But as they had told him, there was no one else there. Maybe he did imagine her. maybe his mind was trying to save him?

Tommy stayed with him at the hospital, not wanting to leave his brother for a second. Maria and Tess came to visit when his parents got back to look after Sarah. Joel hadn’t wanted to speak to her on FaceTime, his face was almost unrecognizable. There were cuts and bruises all over, his skin was peeling, he didn’t want to scare her.

Tess and Maria told him that Tommy left as soon as the distress call was made, and didn’t come back until he was found, refusing to believe he was dead. Liz came to the office, demanding to see his will, and for Joel to be declared dead. She made a scene when she found out that Joel had instructed that all his money and other possessions to be given to Sarah, with Tommy as the executor until she turned 21. Joel was only going to give her the house in the event of his death. She was also still the sole beneficiary of his considerable life insurance. It’s not a wonder she was antsy for him to kick the bucket.

He was suddenly exhausted again, his head hurt from all the information that was given to him. His body was hurting from his injuries. After dinner, a nurse came in and gave him some painkillers, and before long, he was asleep again.

---

“Joel! Joel! Wake up! You have to wake up! You need to get help!”

He opened his eyes slightly; Tommy was sound asleep in the chair right next to his bed.

“Joel! Look alive, old man! She’s doing something!”

He glanced to his left, a nurse was standing next to his IV, checking something. He didn’t move, unsure if he was awake or dreaming.

“Joel! Wake your brother up! Do something!”

Who was speaking? The voice sounded familiar.

The nurse glanced at him and Tommy. He closed his eyes, not wanting to make a scene if nothing was going on. He couldn’t see her face from the angle. From her clothing, she was a nurse. Maybe she was just there to administer some medications. She took something from her pocket, and produced a syringe, still in its package. Joel placed his fingers around the call button, ready to press it if necessary, careful not to move, his eyes only slightly open to watch her. She removed the syringe from the package and pulled the plunger all the way back.  She placed a needle on it and inserted it into the IV line and began to quickly push.

Joel pushed the button as many times as he could, while shouting as loudly as he could for Tommy, who jumped upright and yelled for help, despite his grogginess. Something about his brother’s voice set off an alarm in his head. The nurse, unable to complete her task, tried to run, but Tommy managed to grab her, screaming for help.

The alarms were going off. Joel had gone into cardiac arrest.

“SOMEBODY HELP!!!”

---

Joel opened his eyes, feeling as if his chest had collapsed. Tommy was sitting at his bedside, his hands rested on the bed, his chin on them, his eyes red from sleep deprivation, exhaustion and possibly emotion.

“What happened?”

Tommy heaved a sigh of relief, calling for the doctor instead of answering him.

The doctor came rushing in and gave him a quick check-up. Once satisfied, the doctor left, instructing Joel to rest as much as he could. Joel’s eyes followed the doctor out, realizing that there were police officers outside his room.

Tommy took a cup and filled it with water, and asked Joel to drink.

“Tommy, what happened?”

He looked at Joel hesitantly.

“Liz tried to kill you. She injected air into your IV line. You had a heart attack. You flatlined. It took them forever to get you back.”

Tommy began to cry.

“The only reason you didn’t die was because she didn’t manage to finish the job. You woke me up before she could. If she did… Joel, if you… I can’t…”

He sobbed. His face buried on Joel’s side, his hand clutching at his brother’s arm. 

Joel rubbed his little brother’s head, telling him he was alright. It took a while for Tommy to calm down. By then, Tess had come in, trying hard to get Tommy to go home and rest. He hadn’t left Joel’s side at all. She was starting to worry for him. He refused. Terrified to even sleep, now that Liz had done what she had done. Maria came in a while later, bringing Tommy some clothes to change into, and food for the three of them. She told him not to worry. Liz wasn’t coming back anytime soon. She was charged with attempted murder. Caught red handed. Tommy looked relieved. He was terrified she was going to get off scott free.

“Hey, Joel? How did you know she was here? How did you know to ask for help? You were on painkillers,” Tommy wondered.

Joel tried to get up. They helped him adjust the bed, so he was more comfortable.

“Someone woke me up. Screamed at me asking me to get up. Wake you up.”

“Who? There was no one in the room.”

“I know. I didn’t see her either.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“That girl I told you about. Allie.”

The room got really quiet.

“But Joel…”

“Look, I know what you said. But I didn’t imagine her. She helped me on that island. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead. Maybe she’s in my head, but she was real to me. And it was her last night. I didn’t see her, but it was her. She was screaming at me to wake up, just like she did when it rained on the island, she told me to drink. Clean my wound. She told me there was some food washed up. I couldn’t move. She forced me to. She told me to make the flags. She woke me up when she saw your boat. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have seen me. It was all her. I swear, I’m not crazy. Maybe I imagined her, but it was all her. Allison. Allie. With an A, but she wishes it was spelled with an E instead. Because her teacher kept calling her first in class.”

He laid his head back down, exhausted from trying to explain this. He knew what concussions could do, and he was concussed. Maybe she was in his head. But that didn’t make her unreal. She was there, and she saved his life. Twice.

Tess let out a deep breath.

“Well, if that’s the case, then thank you Allie.”

“Thank you Allie,” Maria said, raising her soda.

“Thank you Allie,” Tommy said, “here’s to you, Allie,” raising his soda before drinking the whole thing in one go, earning himself a brain freeze.

Tommy decided to stay with Joel, promising that he would rest. Joel requested a cot for him, the man looked as if he was about to fall over. The police officers had left, Liz being in custody, sure that he was not in anymore danger. They did move him to the room right in front of the nurse’s station though, at Tommy’s insistence, just for his peace of mind.

As much as Joel rolled his eyes at his brother’s overprotectiveness, Joel was secretly glad. He was having trouble sleeping that night, despite his exhaustion. Since he had arrived at the hospital, his sleep had been aided by medication. Now, he was terrified of falling asleep, worried that Liz was coming back, or that he would wake up on the island again, that all this had been a dream. He watched something on TV while Tommy slept, his eyes closing every now and again, only to be jolted awake again, too nervous to properly sleep.

But eventually, sleep took him.

---

When he woke, someone was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed. He glanced at the clock, three am.

“Allie.”

“Hey old man. Glad to see you made it.”

“Where did you come from?”

“What are you reading from a script? Have some originality, old man. Is that all you could ever think to ask me?”

“Quit calling me old man.”

“You are old, old man.”

“I’m in my 30s, thank you.”

“Ooh… that’s not old at all…” she said, waving her hands around.

“How did you get off the island?”

“You know, you are far too interested in how I got here and there.”

“Okay, what are you doing here?”

“Visiting you.”

“It’s three am.”

“So? Maybe I’m not just visiting you.”

“Who else would you be visiting?”

“A friend, she’s on the 4th floor.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

She shrugged, averting his eyes.

Tommy stirred. Joel turned to look at him.

When he turned back, Allie was gone.

When Joel woke up the next day, he was sure he’d dreamt it all.

Really, if he really thought about it.

First of all, she disappeared when he looked away, in a split second. He didn’t feel her move or hear her run off. He might have been severely injured, and according to her, old, but to his knowledge, he could still feel his legs, and his hearing was intact, for now.

Second of all, she was what, maybe thirteen? Fourteen? It was three in the morning. Who in their right mind let their teen daughter visit someone at the hospital at three in the morning?

And finally, when he asked the nurses about it, they informed him the main door to the ward was locked at eleven at night. Someone had to buzz her in, and no one came in at that time.

Yeah, he must have been dreaming.

---

Joel had been healthy all his life. He was a strong man, made stronger by his size, his occupation, and his youth. Big, strong, imposing, deep sea fisherman. But right now, he was quite the opposite. He couldn’t talk for long without going out of breath. He couldn’t walk properly without help. He needed help showering. He needed help getting dressed.

It's so easy to give up when you went to bed a strong, horse of a man, and woke up as he did. He honestly had no idea how he had managed to walk at all on the island. His legs were severely chafed, cut, bruised, the soles of his feet practically robbed off the skin. All the bandages, the casts, the sutures were only making things worse. He had lost so much weight in the five days he was lost at sea; you would think he was a different man altogether.

He missed Sarah so badly he felt as if he was losing his mind. He talked to her on the phone, but he still didn’t look his best, and the last thing he wanted was for his little girl to think he was weak and couldn’t protect her anymore. So he waited. but it was killing him.

That first week he spent at the hospital was not necessarily bad, save for the attempted murder scenario, but other than that, he was sleeping most of the time. Whenever he was awake, Tommy was there, so that helped with the boredom. But once the doctors declared him stable, he persuaded Tommy to go home. The man had a life, a wife, a job to take care of. He couldn’t bogart him like that. But the very first day he was gone, Joel felt it. He was never an idle man, and laying on a hospital bed alone, not having company, hardly able to move, was annoying, to say the least.

He started taking short walks as soon as he could manage standing without getting dizzy. He had to use a walker, but he was walking. Just around his room at first, and then to the nurse station, before eventually making his way around the ward.

He was still not sleeping through the night. He kept waking up every couple of hours but managed to sleep longer and longer each day. He was sure he saw Allie sitting in one of the chairs one night, but when he turned the lights on she was gone. He couldn’t get her out of his head. Why did he keep seeing her? She was always in the same clothing. That should’ve been a clue that she wasn’t real, but he had a hard time accepting it.

After two weeks, he was improving, by a lot. He no longer needed the walker but could only manage walks around the ward. Tommy helped him walk beyond the ward, following him with a wheelchair just in case. He went outside for the first time after three weeks, breathing in fresh air, having been too cooped up these last twenty days. His parents brought Sarah to visit him that day. He held her tight for so long she started squealing, missing the weight of her little body in his arms, the smell of her hair. I missed you BabyGirl, you got so big. His head magically cleared up after that, finding himself able to sleep longer – he had seen his BabyGirl, he felt more like himself.

The next day, he was taken for a final scan. He fell asleep during the scan, waking up as they were wheeling him back to his room. In his groggy state of mind, he saw Allie get into the elevator. He tried to call her, but the doors closed.

As soon as Tommy and Maria got there that evening, he asked them to accompany him to the fourth floor. This whole ‘Allie is not real’ thing was really bothering him. This girl saved his life – twice. He needed to know.

They accompanied him to the fourth floor – the pediatric unit. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, she said she was visiting a friend. He scanned the faces of the children in the ward, their parents/guardians in the open floor ward, looking for anything that could help him find her.

He found nothing.

Until the sound of a door closing caught his attention – a corridor with private rooms laid before him. He walked in and began reading the names on the door – most were open, their occupants resting, or talking to their guardians. Right at the end of the corridor, was an open door, sounds of machines beeping inside. He glanced at the name on the door – Williams, A.

The three of them peeked inside. Joel’s insides turned cold.

There, lying unconscious on the bed, covered in tubes and wires, was Allie.

“Tommy, this is her. This is Allie.”

The three of them stared at her unconscious body, her eyes taped shut, a breathing tube down her throat.

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know. I swear I saw her walking around this morning.”

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

Joel turned around, and saw you standing by the open door, a cup of coffee in your hands.

---

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m here to visit Allie.”

“You know my sister?”

“Yeah, she, well, she saved my life.”

Joel told you everything. The island, the ward, everything.

You listened and asked him when this happened. Three weeks ago, he told you.

You stared at him and pressed the call button.

“You need to leave.”

“Wait, why?”

A nurse came in.

“Can you please escort these people out?”

“Look, I’m sorry, I just wanted to thank her, I mean no harm,” Joel was pleading with you, as the nurse began to escort him out.

“My sister couldn’t have helped you. She’s been in a coma for four months.”

---

Part 3