#truth is joel would wear both

[theminecraftloser]

So joel has an etho binder, gem can have an etho miniskirt

[toxicanonymity]

it's hard (stepdad one shot)

3k words, stepdad!joel x f!reader

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” He whispers. “What?” You ask. He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

SUMMARY: You're at their house xmas wk. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, angst, pining, fluff, possessive!joel, sneaking around, outercourse, unsafe p in v, mess of cum. reader can sit on him. Mood board is for mood. A/N: Title is an album by The Who.

It’s Christmas week, only a few days after your first time with Joel, and you’re staying at their house. You show up later than you said you would, and Joel has already asked where you are. The truth is, you're nervous. You’re not sure you want to have sex in their house, and you’re also not sure you can resist.  It’s too mortifying to think about getting caught. There are plenty of other places you can do it–your apartment, a motel, a car. You’re trying to be smart and slow down. 

When you show up, your mom’s car isn’t there. Joel is in the kitchen wearing his standard gray joggers, a tight white tee, and socks with coconuts on them. No shoes. He lights up when you walk in. "Hey," you mutter and he replies in kind as you close the door behind you. You survey the living room where there’s a pillow and blankets on the sofa, and you pity him for a moment.  

“Oh,” he goes over to the christmas tree and plugs in the multicolor lights. “Merry Christmas week.” You stand there with your bags, not really sure what you’re doing, or feeling. He approaches you cautiously. 

You look at each other for a few seconds until you're both comfortable that the other still feels the same way. 

“I'll take those,” Joel finally offers. As he takes the bag off your shoulder, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you,” he mumbles. His shirt rides up as he slings the bag over his shoulder and you follow him upstairs. He glances back and teases, “Caught ya lookin’.”

Once you make it to your bedroom you ask, “where's mom?” 

“Grabbin’ dinner. Guess we’ll eat when she's back.”  He puts the bags down on your bed and steps toward you. You don’t step away. He gently pulls you into a hug. You inhale his scent as his arms wrap around you. 

The embrace lingers, and you can't ignore the warmth of his mostly-soft package pressing against you. 

You begin to whisper, “I don't think we should. . .”  trailing off when you realize you're not sure where to draw the line. Every second in his arms, you're less and less sure. 

“Okay,” Joel murmurs. He kisses you on the cheek–slower, more tender than his initial greeting. “Whatever you want,” he adds. He presses his lips into your cheek again, and they linger for a moment before he drags them away. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, then pull away, cheeks burning as his arms reluctantly loosen and his hands slide down, skimming your sides as you step back. 

“I'm gonna unpack,” you mutter, glancing at your luggage, cheeks warm. 

“Yeah,” Joel scratches one side of his beard. “Okay.” 

One day at a time. Have some self-control. You pull yourself away. 

He nods, looks down, and turns around to leave. His back is sooo broad.  You want to reach out and run your hand over his muscles, but you know you wouldn't stop there.

You lock the door behind him and hope it isn't too offensive. As soon as he’s out, you exhale. You lay down on your bed.  You open your nightstand drawer and your heart flutters at a box with a bow on it, and your name in his handwriting. Under it, there's a new pack of batteries. 

You wonder if he's about to jerk off, but you don't wait to find out. You close your eyes and imagine him coming back through the door, unable to resist.

—------------- 

Your Mom comes home with Thai food and the three of you sit down to dinner together. Your mom makes small talk while Joel makes a mess of the pad thai trying to serve himself. Noodles are dragging behind, tethering the pile on his plate to the main container.  Your mom bristles at this in her peripheral vision. 

“So,” your Mom puts on her best interested face and asks you,“Swipe right on anyone lately?” 

Joel scoffs silently. 

“Not many,” you answer. Every time she talks to you, your heart races like you’re about to walk into a trap. This is your own doing, and you know it. 

“How many guys are on there, anyway?”

“A lot.” 

“Can I see?”

It doesn’t even occur to you to say no. 

You open tinder and slide your phone over. “Just swipe left.” 

Joel’s chewing slows down as he stares at the dating app open on your phone. Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t used it at all this week. You would’ve deleted it if you thought about it, but you’re so used to ignoring the notifications. You look at Joel apologetically as your Mom keeps swiping left.

Joel’s nostrils flare, and his breaths become faster. He swallows and doesn’t take another bite. He taps his chopsticks on his plate. 

“Oh,” your Mom addresses you. “You know who’s single?” She looks up from your phone. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at her with his brow furrowed. 

“Harold, down the street.”

“What the hell would she want with Harold?” Joel snaps. 

Your mom chuckles. “What’s wrong with Harold?” 

Her phone rings. Joel puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands behind his chair to stretch his back. As soon as your Mom stands up from the table, he leans forward and takes your phone. 

“What’s this about?” he asks flatly.  It’s still open to tinder. His jaw clenches. He looks into your messages. At least he can see you haven’t sent any. 

“I forgot I even had it,” you explain. 

He goes to the home screen. “Good, you won’t mind.” He holds down the app and presses uninstall.

“What else ya got?” he starts scrolling your apps.

He goes on instagram and opens a picture of you in a mildly low cut dress. He deletes it and opens another picture. His breathing is still agitated. 

“Hey,” you reach for your phone. “What the hell?” You take it from his hand. “Are you gonna act even crazier now?” 

His brow furrows and he stares at the table, then meets your eyes and swallows. “I dunno.” His face softens as he looks at you.

Then he gets pensive and asks, “What do you think of Harold?” 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think about Harold at all.” You pocket your phone and get up from the table. 

“Wait, where ya goin’?”

“Meeting a friend for coffee.”

He’s rubbing his beard like he’s trying not to say anything, but he blurts out, “What friend?”

“Emma. . . Jesus.” 

On your way out of the neighborhood, you pass Harold’s house. It feels like every time you drive by in the daylight, he's struggling to bring some kind of delivery inside - Amazon boxes, or even donuts and iced coffee. Tonight he's sitting at his kitchen table alone, wrapping a present.

—--

When you’re at the cafe with Emma, Joel texts you, Sorry.

It’s ok, you reply. 

It's a struggle not to tell Emma what's going on, but you don't. You tell her you’re seeing someone but don't want to jinx it by saying too much.

When you get home, he’s in the kitchen casually leaning with his butt and hands against the counter.  “How ‘bout some egg nog?” 

“No thanks,” you tell him, but you linger. 

“We good?” he asks, quieter. You nod as you take off your jacket, then put it in the coat closet. 

When you turn around, he’s right in your space. His eyes are red and his hair is messier than earlier, giving you a rush of desire.

“Sorry,” he repeats and reaches for your head.

You don’t pull away.

He cradles the back of your head as he hugs you loosely. You let your hands lightly skim his hips, then wrap around him. It would be a harmless hug in a different family. Until he pulls his head back, then rubs his nose against yours. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nostrils filling with his aftershave. Then a toilet flushes in the background, and you break apart. 

“I’m going to read,” you mumble. His fingertips skim your ass as you walk away. 

—------------- 

You’re lying in bed later, still reading, when Joel sends you a snapchat. The notification makes you tingle, but when you open it, it’s not him. It’s the TV downstairs with the title card of Krampus. You get out of bed and pad over to your mom's room. You crack the door open, and she's passed out. 

You go downstairs.

Joel is lying on his side on the sofa. You and he are wearing the same pajamas you got for Christmas last year. The Christmas tree casts the room in a dim, cozy light. 

He welcomes you under his arm. Just a little cuddling, you lie to yourself.

Without much hesitation, you settle in as a small spoon so you're both facing the tv. He runs his hand up and down your side before dangling his arm over your waist.  The bulge in his pants is barely grazing you, until you push your ass back and he inhales sharply, then cups your breast, using his forearm across your torso to bring you closer. His nose nudges your neck and you can feel him inhaling your scent. His warm package nudges your ass. It's the first time you've felt him soft, like really felt him. It's still quite a bulge.

He's not soft for long. Soon he’s lightly grinding against you, hard and getting harder as the movie quietly plays. His hand leaves your breast, skimming down your soft pajama top to its bottom hem. His fingers creep under the shirt and when they hit your bare skin, the shock of arousal has you thinking very stupid thoughts. Like, maybe you should ride him on this couch, come what may. You stop his hand from going any further up your shirt. 

His arm relaxes in defeat. 

You gently take his hand out from under your shirt and bring it near your breast, where it was. Instead, he covers your hand with his and interlaces his fingers. His thumb brushes yours at a slow rhythm, and the butterflies in your chest nearly make you forget what you're trying to resist until his cock twitches against you.

He takes his hand back only for a moment to adjust himself, then his hand returns to yours. His arm wraps tighter over you. Against your back, his chest expands with each breath. The rhythmic stroke of his thumb lulls you half-asleep. 

“Can I tell ya somethin?” He whispers. 

“What?” You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches back to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

“I wanna do this every night,” he says. 

Your heart flutters. You turn on your side to face him. 

“I mean it,” his eyes are somber. He lays his hand on your side. He takes in a shaky breath. “I'm miserable without you.” 

“I'm right here.” 

He shakes his head. “I need all of you.” 

You look at each other for a few seconds in the light of the Christmas tree. There's not much to say. 

“Me too,” you whisper. His nose twitches and he shakes his head like you don't get it.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is. . .I’d ruin my life for you, if it wouldn't ruin yours, too.”

You read each other's eyes for a long moment.

“What life,” you whisper.

His eyes brighten. “That's how I feel.”  His gaze falls to your lips. “We’ll get a new one.” 

You want to kiss him, but don't want to end up naked. First you warn,  “I don't wanna take off any-”  

He cuts you off with his lips. They’re soft and needy. Then his hand runs down your side, over your ass, and his fingers dig into your flannel-clad thigh. You hike your knee up and wrap your leg around him. The hard shape in his pants presses right against your most sensitive place. “Mm,”  you moan softly into his mouth.

You’re throbbing for him. So turned on. His tongue slides against yours and he feeds on your mouth as he grinds against you. His dick is fat and hard and warm.

As you move against each other, pangs of pleasure dart to your nipples, your ass, your chest. He's so hard. Your body flutters on the edge of bliss but stays there. He grabs the plush of your ass, pulling you harder against him. You break the kiss with a gasp, and he latches onto your neck. 

With a push of his hips, he moans into your neck then whispers, “can't wait to be inside you again.” you throb and gush at the thought. He grinds against you a little harder, needier, but just as slow. “Fuck, you feel good.” He rolls over on his back, bringing you on top of him. Then he sits up and lifts your knees so your legs wrap around him and you hang onto his neck.

“God I wanna fuck you like this,” he whispers, holding you against him. His cock swells harder. You're throbbing madly. You card your fingers into his hair and he groans at your fingertips on his scalp. His strong arm holds you against him with his hips lifting under you. 

“Me too,” you whisper, your legs pulling yourself closer, harder. You groan softly. “Want you inside me—fuck, just like this.”

“Can ya feel it,” he asks, “ohhh–cause I still feel it–god–every time I close my eyes.” He moans as his stiff manhood twitches against you. Your clit pulses and you gasp. He covers your mouth with a kiss as you come. Everything else fades away. His lips break away with a shudder as he explodes against you through the soft flannel, pulsing hard. Your chest flutters at the feeling.

When you're both done, he lets you back onto the sofa, and resumes his position on his side. He pulls you back against him with a sigh. You're pleasantly surprised that you don't feel a bigger mess against your back.

“Shit,” he mutters after a minute.

“What?”

“‘s’not your problem.” 

“Say it.” You roll on your back to look at him.

His cheeks flush. “M’not empty.” 

Your heart skips a beat.

“Not your problem,” he repeats, but you’re already pulling down your waistband. Yeah, it’s. . .not a problem at all.

You turn on your side again, facing the tv. You reach back into his pants, and your breath hitches at the mess of cum enrobing his slowly softening dick.

“Do it,” you whisper, and tilt your hips for him.

He quickly notches his cum smeared dick at your entrance, no longer fully hard, but hard enough. He presses on your mound as he plunges into you, dividing your insides with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes. Your chest feels light as your body makes space for him. 

You close your eyes as he further stiffens, growing inside you, pressing against your walls. His hand slides up your top. He gropes your breast as he retreats, then bottoms out again. Within a few strokes, he’s as stiff as ever, and you’re as full as ever. 

He pauses, fully seated inside you, throbbing. He covers you both with a blanket. You're relieved there's another one beneath you. He breathes against your ear as his hand meanders under your top again. “Inside?” 

“Yeah,” You nod.  

“Where it should be,” he pants. He moans as he slowly fucks you.

“Want it all,” you beg, getting closer and closer with the tight drag of him within you.

He adjusts his position, sliding his arm under your neck so he can grope you with both hands, hugging you tight against him.

"'s'all I think about," he whispers. "Ungghhh---when I wake up---ohh--when I go to sleep."

He moans softly and his hands feel you greedily, "whenever you're ready."

“Fuck,” you whisper. He buries himself in you slow and deep. His breath is hot on your neck. You push back on him, swallowing every inch he’ll feed your drooling cunt. He buries his mouth and nose against your head. The Christmas lights are blurry in the corner of your eye.

“Feel so perfect,” he pants. He rubs your clit and you still his hand. He withdraws part way and pauses with his tip nudging just the right spot. He just barely rocks his hips, staying right there, rubbing over it, not letting up.

You gasp and tighten with tension, then sigh as you gush on him.

“Yeah,” he pants, presses your mound for leverage, and bottoms out as you choke his cock.

He sighs and begins to pulse with even more power than you remember. A huge burst of warmth, followed by a smaller twitch, another massive burst, a slow thrust. It keeps coming, and so do you. His breaths are heavy against you, his stomach flexing into your back as he empties his load. You're overflowing with cum. Your climax wanes, and he's still pulsing even once he's dry.

It finally stops, and he rests inside.

-

You catch your breath, and the smell of sex hangs so heavy in the air that dread bubbles in your chest. You pull yourself forward, letting his cock fall out.

“Shit,” you mutter at the mess between your legs. You pull your pants up. He squeezes your hip affectionately as you sit up.

He sits up on his elbow and tucks away his worn out cock. He takes a deep breath and searches your eyes.

You don't know what to say. You reach back to feel the blanket – soaked. “This is. . .we can’t do this again.”

He whispers your name, sits up and rests one hand on your back, one on your thigh. His chest is heaving like he's waking up from a nightmare. “What happened,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Here. We can't do this here.”

He sighs and swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“You know how to use the washer, right?”

“Yeah. I've got it. Of course.”

You take off your pajama bottoms.

“You okay ?” He asks.

You nod. You yearn to lay with him, but you’re also compelled to leave that room.

You read his face and the worry on it makes your heart hurt.

“It's okay,” you whisper, then kiss him good night. It's a long, soft kiss, and he doesn't want to let you go. “It’s okay, I promise,” you assure him.

You creep up the stairs pantsless. The air is cool on the cum between your thighs until more warmth trickles out.

You clean up in your bathroom and hear the washer turn on downstairs. You can't get his pitiful look out of your head. You send him a chat when you get back in bed: Good night ❤️.

Sweet dreams ❤️🤟, he replies.

—---

----

----

Thank you for reading!

PSA - The main story to stepdad is over, and I don't commit to another arc of them, but the AU is still open for one shots, asks, HCs, whatever I get inspired on. Basically I want it to be more casual without expectations.

There will be another post this month, because I already wrote the smut.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @nervousmumbling

[arcanefox207]

These are some PPCU fics I have read and enjoyed this past month and would like to recommend. Some new. Some Old. All have smut. I am going to be doing a monthly rec list going forward in an attempt to read more and help reblog and support some amazing authors out there. Please show them some love. Read all warnings! Not everything is for everyone and that is ok. Please always comment AND reblog fics you enjoy to show love to the authors 🖤

Joel Miller

Feelings on Fire // @pedropeach You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

But He’s The One I Want // @wheresarizona All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch. 

Only then, I am good // @joelsdagger You have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. daddy jackson!joel x f!reader

'Tis thee Season // @joelsdagger You’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together or,  joel fucks you after taking viagra.

Subscribe // @joelmillerisapunk When Joel accidentally stumbles upon your only fans he convinces himself he's only subscribing to help you through college. And then you send him his top-tier subscriber personal video and he's fucked because you don't even know it's him your dad's best friend

Inhale, Exhale // @sp00kymulderr This world is not made for intimacy and both of you know it.

Dance With Me, Darlin' // @milla-frenchy You go to a club and want to fuck. So does Joel

San Angelo // @macfrog It's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, Joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar where fate delivers him to you.

General Marcus Acacius

Prima Nocta // @fuckyeahdindjarin Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Fit For A Goddess // @ozarkthedog You wear Marcus’s gold laurel crown while he worships you.

Ezra

Little Wren // @schnarfer Wild. West. Priest. Ezra. That’s it, that’s the idea.

The Beast Within // @aurorawritestoescape Trekking the Green with his new partner, Ezra is overtaken by his need to have you. While you sleep in the camping tent, the animal within Ezra pushes him to act on his desires. Little does he know, you’ve wanted him as well.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

Nut vid with the sound on // @syd-djarin You accidentally send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

Javier Pena

Office Hours // @itwasntimethatdidit40 You should concentrate on work. But you can't do that with the charming bastard you share the office with in front of you. Why not find a more fun way to spend your office hours?

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika 🖤

[evolnoomym]

1. This is me trying

Sugar-Daddy!Joel Miller x f!OC

General Masterlist | „Runaway Butterfly 🦋“ Masterlist

Summary: You may have gotten out, but the damage is done. As you look back on the past you take a step forward in the present.

Rating: 18+ explicit content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: no y/n, f!reader, this is how my first OC Moon got born, childhood abuse, self hatred, alludes to sa & suicide attempt(s), 2 separate instances of underage OC getting taken advantage of, nothing to graphic, Weed consumption, panic attack, OC sexualizes herself, she has tits and ass

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: This is the first chapter of my my first Series, it’s been sitting in my notes basically for about 3 months. (Can we believe I’ve been here for 3 months already 😅) I know it’s rather short but the following chapters will be a lot longer. No Joel except in photos, also the Hawaiian Flannel he wears in one of those is the same as @strang3lov3 owns, hers is inspired by Jim Hopper. Bug was also the one that told me to write, so it’s all thanks to her 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Big thank you to for beta reading @fhatbhabiee & @jennaispunk 🦋🦋🦋

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 👌🏻

Technically you are missing, you didn’t tell them where you’d go, they didn’t even knew you’d go at all. Though, you are sure that they are happy to be ridden of the problem, connecting all of them.

They took your pride, confidence, dignity and hope. They clipped your wings early on so you’d never get away, no chance at getting out of this nightmare. Always destined to be the black sheep, the picture-perfect scapegoat for all of them, and whenever something went wrong you got blamed.

No wonder you started to hate yourself, believing their cruel words. You were never good enough and they made you think it would be better if you would just be gone.

They tore you apart, made you hate the girl in the mirror till you just wanted to give up, they put all the blame on you, they used you as a little girl sized punching bag, they made you believe that everybody grows up that way.

Since both of your parents were equally unstable people, it forced you to grow up quickly, so you could take care of them. Never would you know who that real version of yourself could’ve been, without all the trauma, a loss to carry forever.

How should you have known that what happened was wrong, if you never knew anything else. You thought the violence and the loneliness was part of being a little girl.

With time you became something akin to a shapeshifter, trying to be whatever it took to fulfill their desires, if it meant to be loved. Even just the tiniest amount of recognition, was worth giving yourself up.

But those closest betrayed you. Turns out it was all for nothing at all. All the sacrifices you made were so entirely useless, breaking yourself down to become the version they might’ve liked best, trying fit the shape of their choice and satisfy their deranged ego’s.

You scraped together any amount of savings you still had and sold everything you owned that was worth anything. Your Dad and Grandma gave you some money and that was it.

They had pushed you so far, you felt the need to flee to an entirely different continent, almost a 15 hour fly and 525 miles away from what was supposed to be home, that’s what it took to get some semblance of freedom and peace. Austin became your home, it was a fresh start and that’s exactly what was needed.

To much happened, to many unforgivable occurrences. You couldn’t ever heal in the place they broke you in, surrounded by abusers. They might have forgotten, painted an entirely new picture of the truth for themselves, but you’ll always remember what really went down.

You could still vividly remember your brother’s frantic calls once he realized you were gone. He couldn’t believe you’d really go through on that childish silly dream, he always laughed at you for saying, you’d just pack up one day and leave everything behind.

Guess he’s not laughing anymore.

After countless attempts you finally gave in and picked up, only to met by loud thundering voices yelling at you. It was all about how insane you must be, so incredibly selfish, overly dramatic, over-emotional and weak for simply running away.

A coward.

As always it’s just about them, their feelings and what would be best for them. No care for what you’d want and what the best for you could be.

You tolerated more than anyone else would’ve, before ending the call. It was just an accumulation of empty threats, supposed to put you back in line, but it did the opposite. That phone call was the last time you’d speak to them.

8 months have passed since leaving, its now May and here you sit lounging in the living room of your tiny two-room flat. The soft, grey, cloud-like couch was one of your best investments, making it your second favorite place besides your bed.

Its Friday. The clock shows that it’s close to 6 pm, the early-evening breeze flows in through the open balcony and alongside the bustling noises of the streets outside. Cars honking, tires screeching, kids yelling, people laughing and birds chirping, all of it reminds of the overwhelming world waiting outside of your safe bubble.

You just pulled out your rolling tray, trying to quiet your mind, you’ve barely finished licking the paper. When your phone suddenly goes *ping* *ping*, a sound you haven’t heard before.

Normally that might make you anxious but today you are just annoyed by any sort of interruption to your routine.

„Ughhh.”

You begrudgingly get up to retrieve your phone from the kitchen counter. When you reach it and take a look at the screen you immediately understand what caused the strange sound.

A notification for the Sugar-Daddy website you had started using earlier this week. You have tried those odd websites before, at 16 thinking it would be a good idea. Back then you were already after the attention of a mature, wealthy and significantly older Men.

Looking back you always had a weird infatuation with men outside your age range.

Your first kiss happened, when you were 13 and still played with dolls. He was 21 and had just gotten his drivers license, already moved out and had a job. He took you on a walk, then sat down on an old park bench and just kissed you which felt like heaven,at the time. He was your Bestfriend’s older brother who knew exactly how madly in love you were with him.

Two years later, at 15, you thought that 25 year old police apprentice was seriously interested in you, convinced he’d make you his. But, no, he wanted to fuck a minor, he was after the thrill of something tight and young, to be the first to break you in and then throw you away once you served your purpose.

Even though you were foolish and naive, the perfect opportunity for him to use, it seemed your desperate want for genuine love chased him away before he could go in for the kill.

In those instances you were lucky that nothin worse happened, but at 17 the luck had run out or maybe what happened is what you get for making the mistake of trusting.

It was the friendly guy in your semester group, the one who was troubled himself but made you feel like it’s okay, he seemed to understand you. He became a good friend, he made you feel less alone and in the end he became the biggest nightmare.

Your trust was already broken and played with many times before him, but what he did was one too much. He changed the way you viewed the world, the way you lived.

You were deeply afraid of ever running in to him again, and when it happened you could practically feel the world stop spinning.

It was just a worst case scenario that never came true until it did. You remember that day like it was yesterday, it was supposed to be a quiet run to the grocery store, shopping with a friend. Standing in the bread aisle, you were waiting beside the cart for your friend to make her decision. You just stared down at the ground for a split second before looking back up and there he was. Staring at you with this awful smile of his. Ringing in your ears, shivers running down your spine and shaking hands were all you needed to know that getting out of there was more than necessary.

As you stood at the cash register the thought that it might not have been him weaseled itself into your head. The hope that it might’ve been just some mix-up got crushed when a voice behind you spoke up. That voice, the way he talks, you would recognize it anywhere. He was right there, the monster who looked so nice in the beginning was just a couple inches away. You could practically feel him breathe down your neck, just like he did that night. Keeping your composure was the biggest challenge.

Afterwards on the way home, in your friends car you broke down, never ever would you want him that close again. He contributed to you wanting to get away.

Now at 21, even after everything that happened, you thought about giving the Sugar-Daddy thing one last chance. The money would be nice, of course it would, living free without having to worry, having someone who takes care of you and you get to just enjoy living, is the dream.

You wanted to experience that, so the Profil was created, a few pictures were added showing your face, one displayed a peak of cleavage and another with focus on your backside, wearing tight pants that accentuate your plush ass all while you are just sweetly gazing over your shoulder.

Those photos were choosen with good reasoning, you believed that showing skin would attract more attention from the Sugar-Daddy’s.

A classmate once told you „You know...the only fuckable thing about you is that set of tits and that ass. Nothin else, well except maybe ur mouth,“ all while smugly laughing.

And he wasn’t the only one who said shit like that, so you believed it, showin off the assets it was and it worked but none of these man were really what you were looking for.

After 2 days of being flooded with messages, little to nothing came through anymore which you were a bit happy about, since the overwhelming attention was too much too quickly.

You are a recluse, three friends that’s all you got, two of them not even living in Austin. A lot of times you just want to be alone with yourself. Branching out like 6 years ago is not your style anymore and you started to regret putting yourself out there like this. You would’ve probably deleted the profile if it wasn’t for the awfully handsome Man who apparently took a look at your profile which caused the whole strange notification-sound.

You could only see his name “Joel Miller” but that was enough to peak your interest.

You take your phone, walk back to the couch and sit down. You scutch backwards till you can feel the pillow at your back to lean against. You open his profile and your mouth goes dry instantly. He looks to be about 40 ish, his brown-grey streaked locks are neatly styled, a well groomed beard adorned his face and those grey patches certainly made you squirm in place.

They showed his age and that is what turned you on. His amber brown orbs were quickly pulling you in. In some of his photos he wore expensive lookin suits, all highly professional. In others he looked more casual, wearing flannels and even a cute hawaiian shirt in a picture that must’ve been taken on a beach.

He looked big, 6ft3 tall, tan skin, with broad shoulders, biceps that could crush you and his hands, oh they are a sight to behold, you thought of what he could possibly to with them. How would they feel on your body, holding your hand, caressing your face, stroking your head or squeezing your waist.

You feel your cheeks get warm, heart rate picking up and there is a tremble in your breathing, all because of him.

You can already imagine how much power he would have over you with his entire body, you want that.

With all the gawking and fanning you lost track of the time, 45 minutes where spend looking at him, that realization made you feel a bit embarrassed but it turned into shock when the *Ping* *Ping* sound of again, this time with a notification that read ”Congratulations, The verified Sugar-Daddy has sent you a message don’t let him wait to long, swipe here to answer,“ and then his name ”...Joel Miller“.

Maybe he would be different to those before him, maybe you got your luck back and so you decided swipe.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

People I think might be interested: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @punkshort @burntheedges @almostfoxglove @taeslarityy @joelsdagger @littlemisspascal

Taglist 🦋: @joelalorian @msjarvis @stevie75 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beefrobeefcal @baronessvonglitter @sherala007 @moonlitbirdie @thundermartini @sjc7542

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or taken off 🫶🏻

[obsessedwrhys]

Damaged Souls

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Grieving him, fluff, angst, relationship between reader and Joel is plantonic (father figure), reader is like the stone cold typa person (this is for the traumatised kiddies!!!), this fic is almost like a prequel to my ellie fic, reader is fem!!

ᯓ★

From how you two became acquainted. You knew Joel through Tess and at the time you were still a kid. But what you didn't expect was for the grumpy man to end up taking care of you after Tess died, going from some guy who comes to visit frequently to the only person you trusted with your life.

Even when Joel was ready to kill everyone in a hospital to save Ellie, you too were ready to do the same. For her and for him. After everything that went down, you agreed to keep the truth about what happened from Ellie. It was like you two had a mutual understanding.

So the moment you three moved into Jacksons, things were somehow looking brighter for your life. Though even good things didn't last forever. Eventually Ellie found out about everything. Going as far as to stomping into your home to initiate an argument that left you two on bad terms.

Now you felt hopeless... the only friend you cared about gone like that.

The winter became colder. The breeze stronger.

You rest your hands on the fence as you stood at your front porch, with nothing to do but to just enjoy the scenery. You were in your sweater and wearing a beanie as well as putting on a pair of mittens. Even with the pretty view, your mind were clouded with worries, worries concerning you and Ellie.

Is it more lonely to be hated or ignored? You wondered.

"Hey" Your eyes perked up as you turned to your side to see Joel approaching your house.

"What are you doing here?" You asked but he just brushes your words off. You watch him step up on your porch.

"How you holdin' up kid?" He stands beside you, mirroring your posture.

"You don't need to ask me, I'm good, you should check up on Ellie instead" You said which had him nodding his head with an amused smirk.

"I know, you're capable... but I'm still askin" He looks at you but you couldn't bring yourself to even look at him.

In a way you felt embarrassed, you always did whenever he cared for you, because almost your whole life you never showed your need for it.

"Won'tcha talk to me? What's botherin' you? Hm?" He nudges you slightly, almost playfully.

You sigh in defeat.

"I'm... scared...." You uttered almost too quietly that if it weren't for the quiet storm he wouldn't have heard you.

"What are you scared of?"

"Everything. Whatever that happens next" You suddenly rest both your elbows on the fence without even realising, seeming like the nerves have gotten to you.

"I'm scared of ending up alone" You admitted and he nods to your words out of understanding.

"Life's full of surprises kid... it's best you let go of those worries, you ain't gonna survive if you keep thinking like that" He stands up, straightening his back.

"You speak like I have a choice"

"You do"

Just then, he grabbed you by the chin to have you face him. With his other hand, he presses the tip of his index finger on your forehead. You didn't fight back but just bat your eyelashes at him.

"These thoughts... they're nothin' but problems you've overcomplicate. One day you'll see that things are better than how you perceived it. I'm sayin' this cause I care about ya" He said, staring directly into your gaze.

"You think Ellie would forgive me? For killing multiple innocents for her?" You raised an eyebrow.

"We did what we had to" He said as he lets go of you to grab onto the fence, staring off into the forest.

"She doesn't seem to see it that way"

"Just give her time"

"That's what I've been doing"

He could tell that from your tone you were frustrated. He was too, Ellie has been ignoring him as well but for some reason he doesn't seem as affected as you are. It made you curious.

"How are you not upset by all this?" You asked.

"... well... this is the kind of things you've gotta deal with once you have kids" He chuckles softly to himself but he clears his throat when he realised you were genuinely interested in his reason.

"Look... what I'm tryna say is... you and Ellie... you're both like daughters to me. It don't matter if we fight or what, I'll still be patient with ya'll, no matter how long the time takes" He said, placing a hand on your shoulder that instinctively made you turn to look at him.

"And how long is that gonna take?" You said, your gaze softening without even noticing.

"As long as it needs to be"

His response leaving you silent for a while. You turned to look away, thinking of the right words to say before looking back at him, but even with the time taken to think, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. His hand from your shoulder now moving to your back to give you a comforting pat.

"I'll leave you to your morning routine, I know how much you hate people interruptin you" He pointed out but you could hear him chuckle as he said it.

Without realising it ,you watched him start to leave, his back turned to you as your mouth was agape. You wanted to call out to him to say what you wanted to say but you were also too embarrassed to do so... so you let him go.

What you didn't realise was that that would end up being your biggest mistake.

The next day you were sent to go on patrol with him, the patrol was going well until a heavy storm hit, next thing you know you both were swarmed with infected. Having to encounter another girl and saving her, she was able to lead you guys to somewhere safe. Only to be lead into another trap.

The sound of a gunshot going off had your heart race, your eyes widening at the sight of Joel having his knee shot. Even with your struggle against the people pinning you down, it wasn't enough but everything went pitch black the moment you endured a punch to the face.

Then it was quiet.

But your consciousness came back. Slowly cries of a familiar voice woke you up. You almost wished you hadn't opened your eyes when you saw the sight waiting for you. He was bloody, hardly recognisable. You could only watch in disbelief as he was being held by Ellie in her arms, tears streaming down her cheek.

Even then, during his funeral, you couldn't even show up. It was too much. You were there with him when it happened. You felt as though you could have stopped it. You knew something felt off so why didn't you notice anything sooner?

The guilt was like a void drowning you in.

Just like that you spent your day pondering about the what ifs and alternative scenarios of what could have been. You made yourself coffee but the sound of you pouring into your cup was soon interrupted by the sound of knocking on your front door.

You let out a sigh before putting down the cups and then heading off to check who it was. When you opened the door, for a split second, an image of Joel appeared and it made you froze in place. Your mind was busy registering what happened that Tommy, who's the person that knocked, stared at you concerningly.

"You alright?" He asked and your lips moved but no words came out.

"I uh yeah... fine... I just haven't had my coffee yet" You said, quickly thinking of an excuse for your behaviour. He nods, seeming convinced.

"Well I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing. Lot of the folks were beginnin' to worry about ya, they say they haven't seen you around lately" He said and the reality of the outside world was crushing on you.

"I'm good" You said but his face was showing how he wasn't taking it.

"I highly doubt that... but I'm not sayin' I blame ya... everyone's going through it. I just hope you know you're not alone" He said, nodding his head at you out of encouragement.

"... thanks..." You could only say and he looks at you for a while to study your well being before finally leaving.

Even after he left, you didn't go back in your house to get back to your morning coffee. Instead your fingertips scratches at the wood of the door as you began to overthink, one thought overtaking the other rapidly. You've tried multiple solutions to solve this problem but none seemed to work so far. That was until you had an idea.

An idea you might hate but was willing to try.

Putting on your coat, you left the house and decided to walk towards your destination. On the way you could see multiple people going about their days. The sight of seeing parents getting along with their kids made your heart ache which made you look away.

You tend to distant yourselves from the kids at Jacksons.

It wasn't done out of hate or anything.

It was out of envy.

Their innocence were somehow still preserved from the cruelty of this world.

Because how is it that you never got to experience that at a young age?

And when you did experience the safety that you longed for from someone.

It eventually melts away like a lit candle... until it's nothing but just melted wax.

The sound of your shoes crunching on the snow stops the moment you stood at the location you had in mind. You could only stare down at him, his grave, decorated with flowers and messages. In a way you felt better knowing so many people looked up to him the way you did.

Then you looked around to make sure there was nobody nearby that could potentially see what you were doing. Being out in the open after shutting everyone out made you felt a sort of guilt. But you also wondered is it really guilt for putting yourself first?

You cleared your throat as you look back down at his grave. Your breath like smoke from the cold weather.

"I uh... I don't really know what to say..." You uttered and you stayed quiet for a moment before finally saying something again.

"I'm sorry... for everything. For letting this happen. You didn't deserve this" You shut your eyes, trying to control the pace of your breathing.

"I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared. I don't know what to do with myself now that you're not here. I want you back... fuck... e-every day I wish you'd just walk up to my house to give me one of your talks. Hh... I really miss you. I fucking miss your voice" You sobbed, tears welling up your eyes as your nose was clogged, making it hard for you to even breath.

"I know I suck and I'm sorry for always being such an asshole to you. Just come back. Please. I fucking beg you" You got on your knees and could only stare hopelessly at his grave. Some part of you inside still not accepting the reality of this.

"I wish I got to tell you how happy I would have been to be your daughter. You're a cool dad. You're the only dad I actually have in this hell hole. Somehow you made me feel loved" You said, the words you've wanted to tell him that day finally coming out.

"I don't wanna be alone. I don't wanna feel these things... please... please..." You trailed off, muttering to yourself that you failed to notice the butterfly fluttering around you... before settling down on his headstone.

The very fear that you've prayed would never come true had became reality.

You were now alone.

You really lost the very same people who said they would stay your side forever.

Your hands than clawed at the snow, the sadness in your chest slowly transforming into rage. Hatred. You could feel your head almost pop from it. The tears feeling cold under your burning cheek. You stare at his grave, your gaze sharp.

"I'm gonna hunt them down... I'll find whoever that girl is... and I'm gonna kill her even if it takes away what humanity I have left in me" You said, a promise.

The butterfly on the headstone flutters its wings at you, almost like it's trying to say something but soon it flies away. You simply watch it go before standing up on your feet and heading back, getting ready for your hunt for revenge.

[elliespuns]

Do you have any Joel Headcanons?

1. Joel and Tommy packing their bags and taking Sarah camping every month in spring and summer, and Joel spending time with her by teaching her how to fish (as he was taught by his father).

2. Joel wouldn't want kids when he was young, but once he knew his girlfriend was expecting a girl, it breathed life into him, and so he decided to marry her and making her his wife, to show her he was there for both her and his baby girl.

3. Joel is actually a pretty good dancer, but he doesn't tell anyone.

4. Joel can get pretty goofy at times when he feels comfortable (ahem, with Ellie, of course). He would tease her by sneaking behind her, tickling her, and running away, not to get the same treatment. Because god knows the girl gives hard punches. He would also do this thing where he would dance comically to some ridiculous song whenever he'd see Ellie's down, always successful in making her laugh.

5. Joel has a sweet tooth and nobody knows about it but Ellie. He wasn't like this when he was young but the older he gets, the more tasty the candy is.

6. Joel eventually telling Ellie the truth about him and his ex-wife.

7. Joel never shaves his beard because in his words, his face would look like a "baby's butt".

8. Joel playing around with Ellie in clothing stores when trying on new clothes whenever they needed to change into new ones on the road.

9. Joel and Tess starting their relationship after getting wasted and having sex.

10. Young Joel would be watching cooking programs and learning to cook this way when he became a single dad.

11. Joel was sad when Ellie decided to move to her little shed, but he wouldn't say it out loud because he wanted her to have some privacy.

12. Jackson Joel smells like leather, mint, and cedarwood, with a hint of a cheap soap that he uses not only for his body but for his hair too. When he's on duty in town, it's all that but with a hint of strong sweat.

13. Ellie calls Joel "Texas" this one time to tease him about his accent, unaware of the fact that Tess used to do that (in a completely different manner), and obviously, he can't tell her; he just smiles instead, eliciting a curious, toothy "What?" from her.

14. Whenever Joel feels like it's been too much, he sits by his kitchen window with a cup of coffee, and he'd lie if he said that spotting the light in Ellie's window wouldn't calm him down. Just knowing she's there, alive and well, and in his life.

15. Joel can imitate the intro to Eminem's "Slim Shady" and this one time he does it in front of Ellie when she finds the CD and plays it out loud in his living room. It makes her laugh so hard that she makes him do it repeatedly whenever she remembers he can do it because the fact she doesn't even know who this evidently famous rapper is and Joel does is somehow chucklesome.

16. Joel wanted so badly to talk to Ellie about Kat when he heard some rumors, but he decided to keep quiet regardless. He was worried about coming off as nosy (also, they weren't that close at that time which didn't help).

17. Joel hates wearing boxers because as he says, his junk "can't breathe".

18. Joel is too old for playing video games (and so bad at it), but he loves playing Tekken with baby Ellie because beating his ass every damn time makes her smile.

19. Joel enjoys watching horror movies with baby Ellie because whenever she gets spooked, she immediately gets clingy, and what she does is grab onto him (his hand, arm, or lay her head on his thighs), and this is what he lives for.

20. Joel calling Ellie "pumpkin" during the whole Halloween month and driving her nuts with it; "Do I look like a fucking pumpkin?" - "When you pout like this? Definitely."

21. Joel traded his ass (and maybe his front, who the hell knows) for those damn coffee beans

[pearlessance]

Dig Two Graves - Idle Threats [vii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel relives the worst moment of his life and finally reads your journal.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI (no smut in this part, but in almost every other in the series), brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, angst, canon typical violence, joel and reader fight the rat king, reader has an added backstory to progress the plot

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

There’s a certain sort of amazement in your horror. Joel watches you take everything in—watches you sift through trashed rooms, taking what hasn’t already been picked over. Scalpels, expired vitamins, and gauze all wind up in your pockets or your backpack.

You only encounter two clickers on the main floor, and they likely wandered in through the bomb-sized hole that’s been blown through the side of the hospital. 

He thought you were quick with the bow of yours, but it’s nothing compared to how lethal you are with that sawback knife. Before you even make it to the second floor, there’s blood splattered on your cheek and a murderous glint in your eye. When you take down the second clicker and turn to see him with his rifle raised, you draw a new, crystal clear rule. “We don’t use bullets unless we absolutely have to. We don’t use guns unless we have to. The less noise we make here the better.”

“‘Course,” he says.

But you narrow your eyes at him, unrelenting. “I’m serious, Joel. I’ll tell you when I need help. If you fire that thing every infected in this place will be on us in a second.”

He almost hears the echo of his own voice in your words. It makes him smile. There’s a sign hanging above the stairwell. Joel nods to it and says, “You got that list of stuff you need for Maria? Can probably find most of it in the labor and delivery wing. Third floor.” 

You nod in agreement and find the scrap of paper you’ve kept safely stored these last few days. It’s crinkled but still legible, the smeared ink list covering both front and back. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

There are spores on the third floor. Joel helps you secure your mask, tightening it maybe a little too tightly, and can’t help but smile to himself as you look up at him through the clear glass over your eyes. You look so innocent, so sweet—and he might die today and so he says, “You’re so beautiful, baby. You know that?”

You shove his shoulder playfully and scoff at his compliments, but your cheeks turn a shade of crimson he’s never seen before and he knows it’s gotten to you. “Shut up.”

The two of you slink through the halls on the third floor, and at this point, Joel feels like you’ve gotten too lucky on this trip. There haven't been any bad moments, any close calls. And you find a quarter of your list in just one room behind the nurse's station that Joel has to break into with brute force. But it works, and he tries not to think about how everything on the list for Maria had been easily accessible. 

He’s still bitter about this whole trip, in truth. Joel’s glad to have this time with you, glad to have gotten to know the most hidden parts of you. It’s all made him understand you better, made him see who you really are beneath the bratty facade you wear.

You’re different out here. And not just because of the inherent danger that comes with being outside the walls. You’re different with Joel. And he knows it’s likely because your rigid exterior has kept everyone else in Jackson from getting too close to you. Everyone except Maria.

Joel wonders if she knows how lucky she is, how fortunate someone like you has decided to love Jackson as much as its creator. Because if it were him, if it were Ellie in your position, Joel would never let her lift another finger for Maria even if she begged on her knees. You’re worth more than this. Your life matters beyond what you can provide. 

And he vows to remind Maria of it the moment the two of you return. He promises to put an end to this parasitic relationship formed between the two of you.

“Hey,” you say. “Look.” You pull something from a drawer behind the nurse's station. It’s an old folded paper, yellowed around its edges.

It’s a map of the hospital. Joel stands beside you, so close he can feel the heat of your body through the sleeve of his flannel. He scans the map briefly, taps his middle and index finger against the lowest level labeled operations. “That’s where we can find the rest,” he says.

“How do you know?” 

He doesn’t. Not for certain. “Operating rooms,” he explains. “They were always stocked with supplies, oxygen tanks, stuff like that. There was a cart full of things for anesthesia. Could be someplace else but it’s likely there. Maybe secured in some closet or somethin’ down there.”

You nod slowly in contemplation. He watches your profile, savoring the sight, watches you gnaw on your bottom lip. He can tell you’re nervous. He is, too. 

Joel presses a kiss against your hairline. “We’re gonna make it back home,” he says. But he can’t promise it, even though he wants to. 

Something is weighing on you. Your eyes are far away, misty. He wants to prod for answers but knows better. “Yeah. We will. Let’s go.”

The north stairwell past the third flood is blocked by rubble and debris, likely caused by the explosion from the bombings.

You end up doubling back, winding through the hallways down to the lobby and to the opposite side of the hospital. The south side of the building is in better shape but must have been where the quarantine rooms for Casper began because the infected are everywhere. A dozen clickers roam the halls, some hidden between solid steel doors or plastic sheets to section off makeshift rooms.

Thankfully, the task of eradication proves relatively easy. Until the last three, anyway. 

Joel’s crouched low, knife in hand, stalking slowly behind a clicker with fresh blood on its mangy shirt when a test tube shatters beneath his boot. 

The infected turns its head and lets out an ear piercing screech, gathering the attention of the other three clickers left. They descend upon him, and Joel is readying himself to jam his knife through the head of whichever one’s closest—but then he hears your voice. 

“Hey! Hey, over here!” 

And all three of them change course. You’re like a magnet drawing in death. Joel feels everything slow in an instant. 

It’s like he’s right back in that capitol building, leaving Tess behind as if she meant nothing. And Joel had never told her otherwise because he’d been too afraid of caring and losing. But then came you, who obliterated all of his defenses and wriggled your way into his worm-eaten heart anyway. 

And yet somehow Joel ends up in the same predicament. 

He abandons his knife altogether in favor of his rifle. He looks through the scope, aims, and the shot echoes off the hospital walls.

You’ve got your knife in the neck of one clicker but it still thrashes in your grip. You just missed the spinal cord—the first time he’s seen you miss any of your strikes. 

It’s too close for him to shoot without potentially hitting you in the process.

The other isn’t, though, and Joel looses another bullet that pierces true. 

He slings his rifle back over his shoulder and he’s only two yards away from you when you stumble backward, losing your balance, the clicker’s strength overpowering yours. 

You’ve got both hands holding its mouth just out of range of your face, knife still stuck in its neck, and Joel’s ears begin to ring.

He doesn’t remember reaching you. He doesn’t remember ripping the clicker off of you and onto the floor. He doesn’t remember shoving the heel of his boot through its softened, decayed skull.

All Joel can recall is the sound of your fearful scream in his ears. 

But when he comes back and the color red bleeds from the edges of his vision, the evidence is there. The infected brain matter has splashed across the white tile and his boot is covered in blood and gore. 

Your chest is heaving when he turns to look at you. You’re still sitting on the floor, arms stretched out behind you as you try and fail to catch your breath.

His voice is calm, and steady as he asks, “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

“Me? What about you, Joel? I said no fucking guns!”

He doesn’t know what to expect when you speak. But it certainly isn’t that. “I wouldn’t have had to use it if you didn’t try to get yourself killed,” he says, biting anger in his voice. Residual fear from the clicker, he tells himself. 

But it feels like a lie even in his own head. His fury has nothing to do with the clicker and everything to do with your brush with death, Joel knows.

“I told you if I needed help I would say so! I had it!”

Joel leans down and plucks your bloody knife from the dead clicker’s neck and hands it to you. “Did you? Cause it didn’t look like it from here.”

You push yourself to your feet furiously. “Yes, I did! And I don’t need you making decisions like that on a whim! It’s too goddamn dangerous out here. What happened to my run, my fucking rules? Hm? What about that?”

He’s never seen you this angry before. Even with Maria, you’d been more lax. It doesn’t bother him, though—because he’s just as furious. “A whim?” He scoffs. “You wanna talk about rash decisions? Alright—what about that stunt you pulled that got you into this mess in the first place? Yelling’ and hollerin’ like some banshee in the middle of a bunch of clickers and for what?”

“What was I supposed to do, Joel? Let them swarm you, kill you? Are you delusional? I—!”

He closes the space between you and takes your arm between his fingers, squeezing tight enough to bruise. Whatever you’d meant to say, whatever insult you’d had full intentions of hurling at him, lodges itself and stays stuck in your throat. “Don’t you ever do somethin’ like that again, you hear me?”

“What am I doing, then? Protecting you? Oh, sorry! I guess that’s my bad!” You raise your bloody hands in mock surrender. “Next time I should let them tear you apart, is that it?”

“Next time you don’t put yourself between me and a threat,” he says firmly. “I don’t care if it’s a clicker or the barrel of a gun. Your life fucking matters.”

You flinch as if he’d struck you in the face. It takes you a minute to come back from it, to gather yourself enough to respond. But the moment a crease forms between your brows Joel can sense a coming argument, and he cuts it down before giving you a chance to breathe life into it. 

“It matters,” he says again. “It might not to you, but it does to Ellie, to Tommy, to everyone in that town.” He doesn’t say Maria’s name, but he knows you mean something to her just as well. His voice cracks as he admits, “You matter to me.”

You search his face frantically, trying to find a lie when there isn’t one. He watches tears well that refuse to fall, watches your throat bob as you swallow down that fight in you. Your silence speaks volumes to him. 

Still, it’s not enough to settle the fear that’s curdled in his gut. “Promise me,” he says. “Promise me you’ll never do something stupid like that again.”

It takes a moment, but then you relent. “Okay. Okay, I promise.”

Joel releases his hold on your arm, and as his panic begins to subside, it’s replaced with urgency. He wants to get out of here, to make it back to Jackson. He wants to move all of your things into his two story colonial, wants to see you writing in that journal of yours on the porch while he sits beside you and strums his guitar. He wants to see you wearing nothing but his tshirt, padding barefoot into the kitchen while the moonlight streams in through the window. He wants to see you laughing with Ellie over a strawberry scone, wants the subtle sound of your breathing to lull him to sleep in the comfort of his bed. 

He wants to live.

As if you’d read his mind, you say, “C’mon. Let’s get this over with, I’m ready to go home.”

The south side of the hospital, while in better shape than the north, was still affected by the bombings. The descent proves treacherous, and more than once Joel has to hand you his rifle while he lowers himself down a steep drop in the rubble. When it’s your turn to climb down, he takes his rifle in addition to your bow and quiver, and stretches his arms out to ensure your safe drop. 

It must look much more daunting for you, he thinks. You move slowly, carefully, wiggling the heels of your boots between the unwavering stones.

“I’ve got you,” he promises, and gives a low grunt when you push yourself off the rubble slope and stumble into his waiting arms.

Once you’re on the lowest level of the hospital, you’re able to navigate through the building from the crumbled but still legible directories posted on the wall.

Your feet are silent as you round every corner carefully, an arrow knocked the whole time. Joel trails behind you, rifle poised against his shoulder, finger a hair's breadth away from the trigger.

The two of you clear the hallway that consists of only two runners—and it raises a bit of a red flag when you realize they’ve been infected fairly recently. You slaughter them both with your knife silently and send him a weary look over your shoulder. Joel knows, even though neither of you speak, that you’re thinking the same thing he is. 

What killed them?

But you discover nothing remaining in the hall. And the first operating room you investigate proves fruitful. Joel clicks on the flashlight tied to the strap of his backpack and closes the door behind him. “There,” he whispers, pointing to the cart behind the operating table. “An anesthesia cart.”

Unease creeps up his spine because this trip has been made easy. Too easy. But the cart has everything you need, and he’s not in a place to question the hand of God. Not anymore.

You place your bag on the floor between your feet and begin rifling through the cart’s contents. Joel watches you place viles, needles, surgical tubes, and a container of some sort of compressed gas all into your bag. Twice you have to readjust its contents to fit more into it. And when you’re finished, he switches you and lets you fill his just as full.

It doesn’t take long until everything on your list has been crossed off twice. You’re placing one last glass vile into his bag, trying to wiggle it into the pocket on the side. But you fail, and the vile slips through your fingers, shattering on the concrete floor. 

That’s the first time he hears it. 

A feral, angry sort of screech—deafening in the hospital’s silence. 

Joel’s eyes find yours, and he wonders if the terror on your face is reflected on his, too.

It’s a foreign sound. Not runners or clickers or bloaters—and Joel has absolutely no interest in making a new discovery. He tightens his hand around his rifle and nods towards the door. 

But the two of you don’t make it more than three feet before the wall standing between you and safety erupts into pieces, revealing the most monstrous thing Joel has seen in all his life.

It’s a massive, fleshy creature, and before the dust even settles he can see not one or two faces but four—bodies all held together by overgrown masses of cordyceps.

Joel can feel the icy fingers of death wrapping around his neck. He has only his rifle and your sure-fired arrows, both of which don’t have nearly enough ammunition for his liking. He knows, sure as rain, that he’s not getting out of this alive. 

But that doesn’t mean you have to die here. 

“Stay behind me,” he orders. “I’m going to clear a path—distract it, you go around and get out that door.”

He knows you’ll fight him on it but Joel doesn’t give you the chance. He aims for one of the heads and pulls the trigger. 

The creature wails and thrashes and charges forward blindly, teeth gnashing in the air. 

Joel fires again, but it barely registers. The first bullet seems to have made it somehow more lethal, movements harsh and angry. 

He realizes you’ve completely ignored his direction and instead have saddled up to his side, bow in hand with an arrow knocked. “You’ll have to shoot me, Joel,” you say over the clamor, and it makes his stomach turn. And then again, “If you want me to leave this place without you, you’re gonna have to shoot me.”

You’re not bluffing, he realizes when you loose your arrow and it buries itself deep within the creature’s mangled form. He needs you safe, he needs you out of here, far away from this place. Joel turns his rifle towards you, heart hammering behind his ribcage. He tries not to think about the way your eyes widen as he turns and aims for your thigh. 

But before he can pull the trigger the monstrous things charges towards the both of you. Joel surges to the left, pushing you out of harm's way and narrowly missing the onslaught himself. 

In a second you're back on your feet with another arrow whizzing through the air, piercing true. In that moment you remind him a little of Tess, and the thought crosses his mind that she would have adored you but he can’t linger in it long. Joel raises his gun and empties his magazine into the mass of infected.

He reloads and empties another. The creature slows but doesn’t stop and Joel begins to panic at the rapidly dwindling amount of ammunition. His heart is beating so fast that he worries it might burst. His palms are perspiring, sliding against the cold metal of his gun. 

“Joel!” Your voice cuts through the fog in his brain. “You think you can distract it for a minute?”

“I got it,” he says. He kicks the hospital bed in the center of the room and the mass of infected turns its gruesome head. He fires again and again and again, aiming for the several heads stuck between clumps of cordyceps.

He can’t see you but he can hear you fumbling with things on the anesthesia cart, can hear the soft click of a lighter through the cacophony. And then your sweet voice. 

“Hey, asshole!” An arrowhead drenched in blue flame flies through the air, landing true right in the creature’s center. 

It lets out a wail of agony, stumbles, and then charges towards you. 

Joel sees you falter, watches you become a deer in the headlights in real time. It reminds him so much of the look on Sarah’s face when she witnessed Joel’s first kill in their front room when Jimmy Cooper broke through the glass door; frightened, terrified. His chest pulls tight. 

He empties another round into its head, distracting it just long enough for you to come back to reality, to knock another arrow, light it, and release.

It takes every last one of your fiery arrows and all but six of Joel’s bullets before the creature falls to the floor in a mass of blood and flesh and fungus. 

He slings his rifle over his shoulder and tries to catch his breath, tries to accept the impossible reality before him. 

You’re alive. Alive, and safe, and he is too. It’s the first time in a long time Joel has felt this happy, this elated. His eyes connect with yours and you’re covered in blood splatter and grime but he thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful as the moment that pretty smile stretches wide across your face. 

You laugh, and he does, too. The sound fills the space with warmth and light and love. Joel swims in it, basks in it, savors the moment because it’s the best thing to happen to him in years. 

But then a clicker peels itself from the mass of decay on the floor and it’s on you in a second. 

Your laughter turns to blood-curdling screams, bow clattering to the floor and you tumble right along with it. 

Joel runs to you, shoving any fallen debris that stands in his way.  He angles himself just right, Aims. Shoots. 

The clicker falls limp over you. Your screams stop. Joel thinks his heart does, too. 

You don’t move. Even when he finally manages to get to you and shove the clicker away, your eyes are misty, far away. 

Your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, which is a relief, but you don’t look at him. He places both hands on either side of your face, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re okay,” he says, more for himself than for you. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay.”

He begins to wonder if he was too late. Maybe you’ve been scratched or bitten or—

That’s when he sees it. The blood covering your shirt, pooled in the center of your belly. And all he can think is not again. 

Please, God, if you’re listening, don’t do this to me again. 

It’s all too familiar. 

And suddenly Joel Miller isn’t in a hospital at all. He’s back in Austin, in the middle of that field, so goddamn close to the highway, so close to freedom. And that blinding light is being shined in his eyes again but this time it’s not his daughter dying in his arms, it’s you.

He must have missed. Must have shot right through the clicker. This is his fault.

Joel peels the wet cotton of your shirt up and doesn’t see any injuries. No scratches, bite marks or bullet wounds. But there’s so much blood it covers his hands now.

“Sarah,” you choke out. 

He freezes, trembling fingers still intertwined in the hem of your blood-soaked shirt.

It doesn’t feel real. You don’t feel real. Joel’s grip on reality is swaying. He must have heard you wrong, right? He must have. 

But then you speak again, voice stronger this time. “My sister’s name was Sarah.”

He says nothing. What can he say, anyway? 

Your eyes are still clouded when you finally look up at him. “Maria doesn’t talk about her. I…I want to, I should. I don’t want to forget her name.” The confession is broken in your mouth, breathless. “Please, Joel. Don’t let me forget her. Don’t let me forget—“

“I won’t,” he says. He swears he’ll circle back, swears to let you talk about this later. Promises it to himself, in fact. But right now he needs to get you to safety, needs to get you far from here. 

He helps pull you to your feet and doesn’t look away from you for more than two seconds while he searches for both abandoned backpacks full of supplies.

Joel carries them both and then wraps a tight arm around your shoulders, half carrying you. The ascent back up to the street takes longer, but he manages. And when you come upon two runners just outside the hospital, Joel wastes them easily even with extra weight on his back. 

It’s not the weight or the runners or the two mile distance between the hospital and the house where you’d stashed your horses and supplies that bother him though. It’s your complete and total silence that does. 

He doesn’t want to make things worse for you. Doesn’t want to get involved if you’re not ready to share. But he can tell something’s weighing heavily on your shoulders and the urge within him to fix it chafes him raw. 

By the time you make it half a mile from the hospital, it begins to rain. It’s a spring rain but still cold enough to make you shiver. Joel gives you his canvas coat, but it doesn’t have a hood. And you’re leaving a murky blood trail with every step you take. He thinks about clearing a house somewhere closer but knows even being away from the horses this long is a risk for thievery.

So, he forces himself to power through it, to watch you suffer silently while he can do nothing. Even though exhaustion is heavy in your bones, on your face, in your heart. And when you do finally arrive back at the house, the ends of your hair are plastered to your neck and the majority of the blood on your clothes has vanished.

He orders you to sit with the horses as he rummages through the bedrooms in search of something warm and dry. Joel returns with a pair of black jeans, an oversized sweater, and two towels to dry you off. “Stand up,” he says. 

And you obey wordlessly, which breaks his heart because he wants to hear some bratty remark, some unhinged comment. But you give him nothing but compliance. 

He strips you of your clothes, uses one towel to dry your skin and the other to ring as much rainwater from your hair as possible. He works slowly, gently. And then he maneuvers your limbs of his own accord, running two fingers over every inch of your bare skin. 

Your voice is broken and you sound so tired as you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Checking for bites,” he explains softly. “Maybe scratches.” He can feel your gaze on the side of his face, but Joel doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied with his inspection.  He dresses you in the clothes he found. The jeans are a little tight and the ivory sweater has a moth-eaten hole in the sleeve, but your shivering lessens.

He knows it’s risky, but he breaks apart the crumbling oak dining chair and tosses the wood into the fireplace. He’s already striking a match and trying to light it before you catch onto what he’s doing. 

“No fire,” you tell him, a frantic tone slipping into your voice. It’s the first emotion you’ve shown since the hospital. “Joel, what if someone—?”

“Then I’ll deal with it,” he says, leaving no room for argument. You’re cold, and he has the tools to fix it. What kind of man would he be if he chose not to? 

The fire catches, illuminating the dark room in orange and yellow hues. He doesn’t want to leave you but he does for only long enough to feed the horses, bring them fresh water, and find dry clothes for himself. While sifting through one of the dressers he discovers more than just jeans and a black tshirt, though. 

When he returns to the main room, you’ve moved to sit in front of the fireplace, hands held out in front of the flames.

He moves the rickety old coffee table towards you and sits on the other side of it. “Look what I found,” he says, holding up the set of fifty-two playing cards. They’re no longer shiny and white, weathered and yellowed now with age. But they’ll still serve their purpose. Joel begins to shuffle the deck as he asks, “Is there anything you know how to play?”

You take your hands reluctantly away from the fire and tuck them beneath your legs instead. “Rummy,” you answer quietly. “Maria taught me.”

Joel nods and begins to deal out ten cards to the both of you. He can feel your stare, heavy and weighted, but doesn’t meet it until he’s lifted his cards to observe them. 

He’s got shit for luck. Always has. “Went out to a casino once with Tommy,” he says, smiling fondly at the memory. “Promised myself I’d only spend a hundred bucks but ended up spending double and left with less than fifty cents that night.”

You start a discard pile. Joel picks up your eight of hearts. “I’m okay,” you say. “You don’t need to do…whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

A crease forms between his brows. “And what’s that, exactly?”

“Distracting me,” you tell him, drawing from the stack of cards. “Trying to make me feel better. I’m just saying you don’t have to. I’d tell you if I needed to talk.”

He doesn’t believe it for a second. Because you might have a foul mouth and a habit of thievery but you’re also the most selfless person he’s ever met. You didn’t tell Maria you didn’t want to go on that run for her pregnancy craving, you didn’t tell him you needed him with a clicker trying to tear you apart, you didn’t ask for a fire or dry clothes while you shivered in the dark. Joel Miller doesn’t think you’d say a goddamn word even if you were drowning. “Would you?”

You don’t answer. You discard a three of clubs instead.

Joel discards and draws. He inhales deeply and lets out a slow breath. “You don’t have to do things alone anymore,” he says. “Supply runs, life riskin,’ grief…whatever it is, I’m with you.”

“Even back in Jackson?” There’s disbelief in your tone as you draw a new card. “People are gonna talk, Joel. You said it yourself.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, yeah I did.” He discards his ace of spades. “Turns out, I care less about them and more about you.”

You don’t say anything. Joel wishes so badly that you would give him just an inch of an idea as to what’s going on inside your head. You pick up his discard and get rid of the two of clubs.

“That alright with you?”

“I don’t care about what the people of Jackson think or say about me. I already told you that.”

“I’m not askin’ about them I’m askin’ about you,” he says. Joel wonders how long you’ve been forced to put all your wants and needs aside for them. Long enough that it’s become a habit, even here when it’s just the two of you. 

“What about me?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, which only further proves his point. You discard a nine of hearts.

He picks it up. “I’m old,” he says, discarding his four of clubs. “Got a good fifteen years left in me, twenty if I’m lucky. You gotta whole lot more than that. An’ I don’t live on the exciting side of things much anymore. That really what you want?”

You roll your eyes and Joel feels warmth bloom in his chest at the sight. It’s something. 

“You could die tomorrow and so could I,” you say. “You know that as well as I do. Something as trivial as age doesn’t matter. Maybe it used to, but things are different now.”

He nods contemplatively and draws another card. “That’s true enough.”

“And you won’t ever hear me complaining about monotony,” you say, a little quieter. “Never had much stability. Doesn’t seem like a bad thing to me.”

It’s not meant to provoke sympathy but he feels it anyway. Joel wants to provide that for you more than anything. But he doesn't want to be the kind of man that keeps things from you. He learned his lesson the hard way with Ellie. “My, uh…my daughter. Her name was Sarah, too.” Joel lays his cards down on the table, displaying a perfect ace through king run of hearts.

You don’t even register the fact that he’s won the game. Your cards tremble in your fingers. He knows you won’t speak, so he decides to instead. 

“I think I’ve known for…for quite some time. Just didn’t want to admit it to myself s’all. But the minute you looked at me and said her name?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “When I realized we shared this loss, you and I…that we were…connected somehow—I knew there’d never been another option. No goin’ back. It’s when I knew it without a doubt.”

You lay your hand down this time, a perfect run of spades.

A tie.

“Knew what?”

“That I love you.” It surprises him how easy it feels to say it, how naturally it flows from the tongue.

You tense up, muscles going rigid at his words. He watches the orange flames reflect and flicker in your eyes, watches you hesitate to speak.

He doesn’t expect you to say it back. Doesn’t matter to him whether or not you ever do, in truth. Because he doesn’t love you for what you can provide, he just loves who you are. He just loves you. 

You make a sudden decision and stand to your feet, crossing the room to rummage through your backpack. It takes you a minute, but you finally pull the battered leather journal from the bottom and then you return to your spot. “Goodnight, Joel,” you say, tossing the journal into his lap and lying on your side in front of the fire. “You’ve got the first watch.”

He spends it learning everything about you. The entries are vague, details omitted. But it fills in the gaps left behind by what he already knows. He gets a glimpse of who your Sarah was, and in those entries, he sees bits and pieces of you within her. He sees your distrust of Maria spiral into acceptance and then into attachment, sees your view of Tommy’s arrival and your apprehension to trust him, too. 

He learns that ultimately it was a day you spent on patrol together that his little brother won your faith. Tommy told you all about his sibling he would kill and die for, a conversation that must have struck you deep enough to decide to protect Tommy the same way you protect the whole of Jackson.

One of the older entries shocks him. The first interaction you ever had with Ellie, it seems, was the night after they returned to Jackson when he followed her back to the hospital in Salt Lake City. Joel remembers very vividly how awful he felt back then. And Ellie, it seems, was much the same.

In the entry, you say you find her sitting beneath the willow tree across the street from your home. You find her crying, alone, and so frustrated and confused that she’s barely making sense. You bring her inside, and she confesses all to you. Ellie tells you about the hospital, about how she both loves and hates Joel at that moment. She tells you about her friend Riley, about Marlene and Tess and Sam and Henry. She tells you she’s immune.

And in the next sentence, you make a confession in ink that you would do no differently than Joel had. You say that you would damn everyone else if it meant the safety of this crying girl at your kitchen table, and Joel’s eyes begin to sting the longer he reads. 

You document a run that happened seven years ago in which you made your first human kill at fourteen. You reference it in several other entries as The Dying. It takes Joel until halfway through the journal before he realizes you formulate several things in this dramatic metaphorical way. 

Discovering Jackson is The Finding, you call your bow The Cursor and sometimes refer to Maria as The Director. Your sister’s death is referred to simply as The End.

With less than a quarter of the journal left to read, he finds an entry dated the day before he was assigned to watch duty with you. You refer to yourself as The Wraith, comparing yourself to the dead, to a ghost. You express your longing to be a sibling again, despite that fact never changing even after enduring such a heavy loss. 

And then the next entry, dated the day after your shift in the watchtower, is an almost blank page. In the center, there’s a hand-drawn moth, the only thing within the journal’s entirety drawn in color. Below it, a single word is written.

Joel.

[part six] [part eight]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef

[let me know if you'd like to be added!]

[pascallftv]

Girl Next Door— Part 3

Previous Part Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel invites you over for dinner and you watch a scary movie together.

Word count: 2.8k

AN: This had me kicking my feet and twirling my hair BAD

The drive down the road to Joel’s house consisted of your mind rerunning the events over the past few days. You over analyzed each touch, conversation, and even the way Joel looked at you. Consider it delusional, but you had yourself convinced that maybe your infatuation wasn’t one sided. The memory of Joel wrapping around you from behind to show you how to tear down the tiles replayed the most. Surely there was more to that interaction, you had thought to yourself. More so, you considered what your intentions were for the evening. Your plans to watch a movie could be harmless. The truth was you were lonely at the house alone, and you could only imagine how lonesome Joel got living by himself, so watching a movie together would lessen both of your times’ alone. However, there was a voice at the back of your mind laying out the potential to make a move on Joel.

Sure, the idea of being able to finally touch Joel in the way you wanted sounded captivating, but the consequences of your actions could be detrimental to the progress you’d made so far with him, and even ran a hazardous line for he and your father’s friendship. You fantasized about the sheer chance of Joel accepting your advances and everything working out perfectly when breaking the news to your father. It seemed within reach to you, but also so unobtainable at the same time.

After parking your car in Joel’s driveway, you tucked one hand into the pocket of flowy sweatpants, with a tote bag in the other containing a couple of movies that you’d picked out. For being a summer evening, the temperature had cooled off and you were a bit chilly with just a white camisole on your top half. Joel’s porch light was on, illuminating the steps and front door. You were nervous. It felt like the nerves before a first date, although this interaction was far from that. You lifted your knuckle and knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door opened to Joel wearing a pair of dark gray sweatpants paired with a black t-shirt. The outfit was very different from his usual attire, but damn did he look good. His muscular biceps and forearms were on display, as well as his tanned complexion.

“Hi.” You said, adjusting the tote bag over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes trailed down to take in your outfit as well. Your thin, yellow sweatpants flowed down your legs, and your tight, white camisole with lace details didn’t leave much to the imagination. The chilly evening air left your nipples erect, the fabric of your top peaked around them. Joel swallowed hard, his eyes falling upon yours before you caught him lingering on your chest for too long.

“Hi.” His gravelly voice responded, stepping aside to let you inside. His house was surprisingly decorated and very cozy. The walls were off white, and the foyer accommodated a beautiful dark green cabinet. The rug beneath your feet was an aged maroon with an extravagant bohemian print. A gold framed mirror was hung on the wall above the green cabinet. Joel’s attention to decorative details shocked you. You slid off your slip on shoes and sat them adjacent to a pair of Joel’s shoes against the wall. The aroma of cooking food wafted into your nostrils, the smell making your mouth water.

“I grilled some marinated chicken. The garlic potatoes are finishin’ up in the oven.” Joel explained, leading the way into his living room that was connected to the kitchen.

“It smells amazing, Joel.” You said, your eyes wandering, still observing the interior of his home.

The living room was just as breathtaking as the foyer. There was another bohemian rug across the dark, polished wood flooring. In front of a flat screen TV was a brown sofa and an aged wooden coffee table that matched the flooring.

“Your house is beautiful.” You spoke as you entered the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of the food was more intense, and you couldn’t wait to try his cooking. Joel looked back at you and smiled.

“Why thank you, darlin’.” He responded, grabbing an oven mitt off the counter, using it to pull the pan of potatoes out of the oven. He placed them on the stovetop next to the chicken breasts that looked grilled to perfection.

“I didn’t take you as a cook.” You said, stepping closer to steal a look at the food Joel prepared.

“It’s always the ones you least expect.” He said, reaching into one of the black cabinets to grab two plates. After dishing out a piece of chicken and some potatoes, Joel handed you one, then grabbed a fork and knife out of a drawer for you.

“I poured you a glass of wine, I wasn’t sure if you drank so I got you a glass of water too.” Joel explained, glancing over at the dining room table. It was a small, dark wood table and chairs with black cushions. The colors of his house felt like home somehow. In the center of the table was a clear vase with yellow flowers. They appeared to be flowers from the field behind your houses. For being such a gruff man, Joel’s house was delicate and cozy.

“I do love wine.” You chimed, following him to take a seat at the table.

You picked up your fork and knife, cutting into your chicken. You popped a piece into your mouth, and nearly melted at how amazing it tasted.

“Joel, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You gushed. Joel looked up at you from his own food, a smile toying at his lips.

“You sure do know how to flatter an old man like me.” He teased, taking a bite of his potatoes.

“I can’t believe no one has tied you down yet. I mean shit, you can cook, you’re an excellent builder and decorator.” You rambled. “Not to mention, you’re very easy on the eyes.”

Joel watched you with wonder in his eyes as you spoke. God, you were everything.

“If you find the answer, be sure to let me know.” Joel conceded, taking another bite of chicken. After he swallowed, he knitted his brows and rested his arms on the table. “You know, I could say the same for you.”

“Is that so?” You raised a brow, sipping on your white wine.

“Well, look at yourself, darlin’.” Joel gestured towards you. “You’re young, beautiful. You’re intelligent. What else could a man want?”

You swallowed hard, running your tongue over your teeth. You couldn’t decipher if he was simply being nice or if there was an underlying reasoning behind his words. You cleared your throat and chuckled softly.

“You’re blowing sunshine up my ass.” You said, poking a potato with your fork and bringing it to your mouth. Joel chuckled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He insisted. You felt your cheeks flushing. You ate in comfortable silence for a moment, your thoughts running crazy. You felt even more delusional after Joel’s words.

“So I brought over a couple movies. I have the original Halloween and the first Scream.” You changed the subject.

“I haven’t seen Scream in a while.” Joel imputed, taking a swig of his mixed drink that appeared to be a Jack and Coke.

“Then it’s decided.” You winked.

When you both finished eating, you helped Joel pack away the leftover food into Tupperware containers. Even his refrigerator was organized. You helped put your dishes in the dishwasher before you both retired to the living room to put on the movie. You brought your glass of wine with you, placing it on the coffee table. Joel grabbed the movie from you, setting up the movie while you got comfortable on the sofa. After your conversations at dinner, your nerves had practically evaporated. You felt much more comfortable and less like you needed to act a certain way to impress Joel.

You watched his back flex underneath his black t-shirt as he leaned down to put the disc in the DVD player. You longed to run your hands down his back, feeling every curve and muscle of his back.

It was dark outside now, the only light source being a lamp that Joel had turned on. He walked to the couch, reaching behind you to grab a large wool blanket. He sat down beside you, your legs being only a few inches apart. Joel placed the blanket over both of your laps, and grabbed the TV remote off the table to click play on the menu to start the movie.

“This is going to give you nightmares, isn’t it?” Joel spoke, looking over to you. Your legs were curled up into your chest on the couch cushion, you pulling the blanket up over your arms.

“No.” You said with a smirk, looking from him back to the TV. “I’ll probably be scared shitless in that house by myself though.”

“A scary movie was a terrible idea.” Joel sighed, resting his arm over the back of the couch.

The first kill of the movie played across the screen, and Joel startled beside you. You turned to look at him, your mouth parted in surprise.

“Maybe it’s you we need to be worried about.” You teased, reaching over to squeeze his leg. His head snapped over at your touch. You turned back to keep watching the movie, but Joel’s eyes lingered on you. Your touch made him feel crazy. The power of your fingertips was enough to make him melt entirely. His eyes lowered to your plump lips, the shadows from the TV dancing across them. Your gaze was locked on the movie, not even paying attention to how you had Joel caught in a trance.

Strategically, Joel decides to lean forward to take a swig of his drink, coming back down to sit even closer to you. Your thighs were touching under the blanket now, his arm falling behind your head to rest on the back of the couch again. You glanced down to observe your close proximity. Your legs were still tucked up on the couch, so your knees were practically on top of his lap.

You continued to watch the movie, but you weren’t really paying attention. Your eyes followed the images flashing across the screen, but your brain wasn’t comprehending anything. All you could focus on was how good it felt to exchange body heat with Joel. You wanted to cuddle into his side, but you couldn’t find the courage to do so. Little did you know, that’s exactly what Joel longed for you to do. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie either. Likewise, he was fighting every urge to drape his arm across your shoulders instead of the couch.

As the movie progressed, a jumpscare happened, and you jolted and covered your eyes. Without thinking, you leaned into Joel’s side. He looked down at your head pressed into his chest, and he lowered his arm to wrap around you, his hand squeezing your arm gently.

“Holy shit, I even expected it too.” You muttered, leaning your head back just a little to peer up at him. Joel stared back into your eyes, the emotion in them unreadable. Joel reached his free hand up hesitantly, brushing your hair back out of your face. Goosebumps rose on your skin, your eyes flickered back and forth between his eyes, searching for any hint of emotion.

Joel didn’t speak. His thumb was working soft circles on your arm while his other hand lingered in the hair by your face.

“Joel.” You whispered. His eyes flickered to yours.

“Hmm?” He muttered gruffly.

“Kiss me.” You exhaled. Joel stared at you for a moment, his eyes dancing between yours and your lips. He furrowed his brows as he considered.

He was fighting himself mentally. If there were zero consequences, he would’ve kissed you way before this moment, but there were so many obstacles with taking things to that level with you. Would it make things awkward between you? Would you realize he was too old for you? What about your father?

Joel’s hand moved to your jaw, his thumb running gently over the soft tissue of your bottom lip.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Joel asked softly, the pad of his thumb still on your lip. You nodded, your hand reaching up to cup Joel’s face. His complexion was rough and tanned with wisdom, the crow’s feet by his eyes deepening with the perplexed expression on his face. You ran your fingertips over his beard, ghosting them slowly over the gray patches.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Joel cautioned. You stared up at him, your fingers venturing into the hair by his ear. Your gaze flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.” You assured him, your tone smooth.

Your words were all Joel needed to hear. He leaned down, his lips softly pressing to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, your fingers moving deeper into Joel’s salt and pepper hair. The kiss was sweet, the taste of the white wine on your lips mixing with the savory flavor of the Jack and Coke on Joel’s. Your bodies pressed together, your chests flush against each other. Your gut was swarming with electricity, Joel’s arm dropping to your lower back to press you closer to him. He craved you closer. Your tongue darted to brush against his bottom lip, a gentle whimper leaving his mouth, leaving enough of a gap for you to slip your tongue inside.

Joel’s hand lowered to your ass, pulling you up onto his lap, deepening the kiss further. Joel wound his hand into the back of your hair, his fingertips massaging into your scalp lightly. You placed your hands on either side of Joel’s face. You broke away from his lips, lowering your mouth to his jaw, peppering gentle kisses there, then moving to the rough skin of his neck. He exhaled deeply, leaning his head back into the couch, opening up more skin for you to press kisses to.

In that moment, the both of you knew you were playing with fire. You were at the point of no return. The intense infatuation reigned champion over the moral dilemmas that troubled your subconsciouses. The desire you felt for each other took precedence of any sort of reason about the reality of the situation.

Joel’s hands ran down the warm skin of your back as your lips ventured back to his. Your tongues danced together, Joel’s hips rutting up against yours. You felt him hardened underneath you, and suddenly reality swarmed your thoughts. A kiss was one thing, but the thought of moving further scared you. You wanted nothing more to be intimate with Joel, but it felt too soon. You wanted to take your time with him.

You pulled away from the kiss, resting your forehead against his, your warm breath fanning across his face. He ran his hands from your back to your hips, running them slowly up your sides.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Joel whispered, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. He brought a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the supple skin of your cheek, then lowered his mouth to your neck, breathing in your sweet, vanilla scent. You breathily moaned, intertwining your hands behind his head, pushing your breasts together.

“So so pretty, honey.” He murmured, his mouth ghosting over the soft skin of your breasts, his fingertip tracing over the peaking fabric from your nipples. Your brows taught together, your lips parted at his gentle touch.

“J-Joel I want to—” you began, “but it’s too soon.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Joel reassured you, lifting his hands to cup your face, pecking a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m just enjoyin’ tasting you. I don’t want to rush anythin’.”

Your belly fluttered, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You bent down and kissed him again, this time with a little more pressure. You couldn’t verbally tell him how you felt about him, but your kiss told him everything he needed to know.

“Stay tonight.” Joel spoke against your lips. “We don’t have to do anythin’, just want to be with you.”

You nodded emphatically, running your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay.” You muttered breathily.

You lifted yourself off his lap and sat back down in your spot next to him, this time cuddling into his side. You couldn’t hold back the smile that overtook your lips.

[hopepetal]

Some ranchers. Because I said I'd write them <3

––

First out.

Again.

And by his own stupid hand, his own stupid actions, because he never learned. He never learned.

No matter what he tried, no matter what he did, Jimmy would always be the canary.

“I hate myself,” he cried into the empty afterlife, drawing his knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth, wrapping his golden wings around himself as if they could shield him from the harsh reality. As if they could protect him from the truth.

“I hate myself,” he wept, and nothing changed for it. Time still ticked, tocked, sand trickling through the hourglass of life. His own hourglass was cracked open, sand spilling to the ground.

“I hate myself,” he whispered, and it echoed throughout the empty white space that stretched out infinitely.

And then he wasn't alone.

And then Skizz was there, with a gasp and tears streaking down his face but a smile on his lips. And then Joel was there, with a frustrated scream of rage. And then Bdubs.

They all exchanged brief words. Joel hugged Jimmy tightly for a moment, mournful whispers of a planned sacrifice in his ear. It wouldn't have worked. It never did. But Jimmy thanked Joel for trying.

And then someone was sitting next to him, cross legged and hands in their lap, tail swishing back and forth slightly. Jimmy didn't even need to look over to see who it was. He knew the presence of his rancher, knew the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing.

“I'm sorry you got out first again,” Tango said, just as Jimmy muttered, “out first again, huh?”

They both looked at each other, meeting eyes that were finally their natural hue, and for a moment just stared. Then, Tango giggled nervously, and Jimmy couldn't help but smile as well.

“I'm still sorry about hitting you,” Jimmy apologized, wrapping a wing around Tango. “I was just bein' bad, you know how it is.”

Tango laughed, leaning against Jimmy. “I think it suits you. Black leather brings out your eyes. When you're not wearing sunglasses. I mean. Obviously. Because when you're wearing sunglasses your eyes are covered and–”

“Tango, Tango, buddy, I get it,” Jimmy interrupted, his mind far away from the self-loathing of earlier. “Here. Hold on.” He took off his sunglasses and fluttered his eyelashes at Tango. “Better?”

Tango's face went red, and he nodded. “Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Cool! Those are your eyes! Wow!”

“You two really are soulmates,” Cleo commented from where they stood with Bdubs and Scar, an arm around the former. “Get a room, jeez.”

Jimmy shot her a glare, though there was nothing behind it. “Oh, buzz off!”

Tango burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking and tail tip flicking back and forth. “Ohhhh, oh man. I'm glad I got to see you again, Jimmy.”

“You need to visit more often,” Jimmy muttered, “I missed you.”

Tango pouted slightly. “I know... I'll try. I promise. But you know me, I start working on some project and then forget about time...” Noticing how Jimmy's shoulders slumped, he hurried to add on, “but I'll try! I will! I promise!”

“Good.”

“Good!”

As the last of the sand spilled from Martyn's hourglass, Jimmy and Tango watched. And as with every game, they slowly began to fade away from the afterlife, sent back to their home servers.

“Remember,” Jimmy told a translucent Tango, his voice resonating strangely, “you promised you'd visit.”

Tango grinned, nodding. “Rancher's honor! See you soon!”

And with that, they faded away.

Somewhere, a tiny toy sheriff awoke with a gasp, and felt like something was missing.

Somewhere, a hermit awoke with a soft yelp, and felt as if he'd broken a promise.

[rottenblur]

My modern Romeo |J.MILLER| part two.

Summary: The one year anniversary of meeting joel is your favourite memory, almost getting caught, him confessing his love. Your first kiss with him, only if a year of desire could be cured with just one kiss..

Warnings: fluff, you and joel playing truth or dare like cmon fluffiest shit ever, alcohol you and joel, kissing, making out, grinding on joel???? Semi smut. Joel says a naughty thing y’all. Almost getting caught

It’s one whole year since you met the grumpy old man that lights up your Friday without fail, looking at your watch it reads 2:20am. On your last trade you and joel both decided to meet before four, as every time it ends up dawn before either of you want to go back.

It’s starting to get risky, not that Joel wasn’t trusted to be out till daylight. It’s the fact suspicions of what he was doing out that long, started to rise.

You on the other hand, you weren’t aloud to be out at night, upon request of your parents. Anyone on watch was told to snitch on you, if they saw you out past 8pm.

A whole adult and you were still being treated like you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You take off your grey shorts, slip on your tight black jeans and take a peek in the mirror.

You catch your gaze falling on how your ass looks. God the fuck is wrong with me. Never once have you caught him looking at you in that way, yet you still want him to.

Taking off your loose hoodie to reveal a tight tank top, the heat giving you an excuse to show more skin, you pull on a tight crew neck sweater. Maybe a little too small for you, the bottom of your tank top showing when you lift your arms.

You always dressed up for joel, wanting him to think you were put together. Even though he always showed up in the same worn out blue jeans, he probably had a closet full of them.

You thought about what he might be doing, is he reading one of the many books you had given him, talking with family? Did he have family, you’ll have to remind yourself to ask.

Was he getting ready thinking about what you would think? Probably not, he had confidence. Alot more than you could ever dream of having.

Three am hits, you put on your holster, slipping your gun into it and taking one last glance into the mirror. Okay, you look fine, he probably doesn’t care anyways.

Walking to the meeting spot, a field surrounded by large rocks about a twenty five commute for the both of you. Your heart is in your throat, it always was when you walked to see Joel.

He had an affect on you. Scared of him not showing up, or him actually showing up just share some news that, its getting to risky, he has to stop seeing you.

Your feet hit the familiar grass, it’s worn down into a path from the common commute. You can see a figure sitting in the grass, wearing that same god damn tan jacket. You never got tired of seeing it, seeing him.

A smile that refuses to give rises to your face. “A bit too warm for a jacket don’t you think? Do you have another jacket, poor thing gets too much use.”

He turns his head and a smirk comes to his face, you sit down next to him. “Ya trying to get me outta my clothes? Actually I do you smartass, I just like it.”

Yes. Yes you were trying to get him out of his clothes, even in this god damn felid. You could never say that though.

“So, i know you said we weren’t trading today, but you said something about a walkman last time. I couldn’t forget that, as im incredibly jealous, i got you something.” You pick a cassette out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

He smiles and takes it out of your hand, reading the worn lettering. “Radio head? I actually brought something too..”

You look at him. “What is it?”

He opens his bag and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

Oh fuck. This, drunk you, is definitely gonna ruin this friendship.

“You ever try this kind before? It’s okay, found it on a supply run. Wanted to save it for a special occasion.” He holds up the bottle for you to see.

He remembered. He remembered!

He opens the bottle takes a swig effortlessly downing it. “To the anniversary of you almost shooting me” He laughs at his own joke, then passes you the bottle.

“Oh fuck you.” You shove him, then take a gulp, coughing as it burns down your throat. He tries to hold a laugh in.

“First time?”

You clear your throat and try to play it cool. “Just been a while”

He shakes his head and takes the bottle back. “No point in lyin’ darlin’. Gonna be a long night, you’re not leaving without getting shitfaced.”

Thirty minutes has passed of you and him passing the bottle back in forth, you’re clearly way more gone than he is, you’re already saying your every last thought.

“You know, i never really got a proper teenage experience like in books.” Taking a sip out of half gone bottle.

“Well I can’t exactly say i know the teenage girl experience, but books are kinda over dramatic.” He looks at you with glossy eyes, maybe he was drunker than you thought.

“Like truth or dare. Never played it before, not alot of kids in the group.” You huff and pass him the bottle.

He laughs, pinching his nose bridge. “I’ll play with ya sweetie.” Tliting his head.

Was he flirting? Was joel fucking miller flirting with me.

“Truth or dare?”

He smiles at the stupid childish game he was playing. “Truth”

You let out a “hmm” then come up with a question. “Do you have family?”

He lets out a groan, takes a sip then passes you the bottle. “I do. A brother, back at jackson, tommy he’s younger.”

A brother, you wondered what their relationship was before the apocalypse. If they got along growing up, if they got along to this day.

You take a swig, slowly growing to the strong burn, a blush spreading to your cheeks.

You two go back and forth for another twenty minutes, the liquor disappearing till the last shot is left, all yours he says.

Its his turn to ask you a question. You’re not sure if you could give him a straight answer, nor talk without giggling. Everything was slowed, the gust of wind didn’t bother you anymore, your body was on fire. You understood why people drank now.

“Truth or dare hun.” The petnames were littered in every sentence now, if you didn’t think he was drunk earlier, he was now. You take the last swig, throwing it across the felid, it shattering on impact.

“Dare.” Little did you know that one word would change everything between you to.

“Kiss me. I dare you to kiss me.”

Fuck. You were in no state to say no, your feelings were overwhelming, the confidence you had was overwhelming.

You were wrong, wrong all this time. Maybe he was checking you out when you weren’t looking. Thinking he was staring at eyes, but he was admiring your plush lips all along.

You swear the blush from the alcohol, mixing with your blush from the words, had turned dark crimson, his desire burned your body.

You lean forward, he looks surprised you’re actually doing it, unknown to him you’ve had a intense crush from the first time you saw him. A year of pining and teasing was finally rewarded.

The space between your face and his disappears, he leans towards you pushing your lips together. He places his hand on your jaw, the other in the crook of your neck. He kisses with hunger, like he wanted to consume you. You kiss him back, he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, exploring.

It was too late to tell him this was your second kiss, your first real makeout sesh.

You grip his hair and straddle yourself on him, this pulls a groan out of him.

He moves his hands down to your hips, pulling them down onto his. You’re so close to him, you can’t breathe. His jeans rubbing into yours, your chest pressed tight against his, his hands engulfing your hips.

He pulls away for air, panting practically, you can see the blush covering his cheeks. “Is- is this okay- do you want-“ You cut him off pulling him back in for more.

Your hips unknowingly start to grind on him, the more pressure you put on him the more he moans in your mouth. The kisses getting more sloppy, more teeth and spit.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Your panties soaked, your jeans creating the perfect amount of friction, all you wanted to was undress him, see all of him, have all of him.

Its getting hot, the harsh weather due to the lack of sun meant nothing. Between the alcohol and the fire that was burning in your core it was unbearable, you rip your sweater off. He pulls away, looking you up and down, his eyes holding a tight gaze on your chest.

You both are out of breath, he moves a hand up to grope your chest, squeezing and holding. Your hips pick up a faster pace, a rougher pace.

The sounds of his groans, your whimpers fill the air. No other sounds are heard in the dead of the night, other than your wet lips fighting for more and the sound of your jeans brushing on his.

He mutters something into your mouth, you pull away.

“What?” You’re out of breath and flustered.

He looks at you, those god damn glossy brown eyes could make you cum alone.

“Fuck, i dont know what to do with you. I can’t stop thinking about you darlin’.”

You whimper. “Neither can i”

He kisses you one last time and pulls you off his lap, adjusting himself and sighing. You spot a stain of precum soaking a spot in his jeans, god that make you tremble.

“I- uh we gotta stop. I won’t be able to control myself other wise.”

Fuck. That make your knees weaker than the alcohol did, you drank a shit ton of alcohol, yet he had a bigger affect on you.

“Fuck, i hate it has to be this way, i want you. All of you.” You say, letting out the biggest sigh you could muster.

He practically growls at that.

“I can’t believe i waited so long to do that.” He shakes his head.

“Are you serious? You’ve liked me that long? I’ve been thinking you didn’t even think i was pretty.” You almost shove him.

“Darlin’, what if you didn’t feel that way ‘bout me? I’d feel like a shitty person, especially since you know, you’re young..” He sounds sad, but jesus he’s fucking hot, how could he ever think you weren’t head over heals for him.

“..For the record, i think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Wish i could get you out of my head, thinking the dirtiest things ‘bout you when i get home from seeing ya.”

Fuck. It was unbearable how he was making you feel, you push your thighs together.

“I-“ You get cut off by the sound of  hooves pittering on the ground, matched with a deep voice yelling echoes off the mountain’s rocks.

Your heart jumps to your throat, you check your watch, fuck. It’s five, its been three hours since he had left.

His face drops, he signals you to go hide in a cluster of bushes a couple feet away. You run over trying to be quiet, before you become one with the bushes, he holds up three fingers. Got it three am, next Friday.

“This” wasn’t over, he was willing to risk everything for you.

You try to peek through the bush to see whats going on. Joel pulls out his gun, the man approaches on his horse, dismounting it and pushing joel.

“God damn it joel, the fuck are you doing, you were supposed to be home for patrol.” The man looks around. “What are you even doing here?”

You squint your eyes trying to get a better look at him, the sun aiding you. He looked like joel, longer hair, shorter and younger. Tommy. His brother, it must be.

“Chill tommy, i went for a walk, heard a clicker. I’m fine though, thanks for askin’.

It was almost attractive how easy he could lie, especially when it was to protect you.

They walk off, all you could here is mumbles. Till those mumbles turned to the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground, the sound slowly disappearing.

That was the first time you almost got caught, yet it is your favourite memory.

You replayed the night over and over walking back. Sneaking back in praying you wouldn’t get caught. Even if you did, you would die happy, joel likes you, he kissed you.

Part one here

Part three here

My masterlist

AN: PART TWOO!!! Even though this series isn’t getting much attention i very much like it!! Answering a question no one asked study break part three is coming soon don’t get your panties in a bunch unless joel put em in your mouth, then go right ahead ;)this is kinda a slow burn cause like they aren’t supposed to see eachother

[integra1127grimmreaper]

I'd Come for You (Joel Miller)

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prev

Warning: fluff, implied smut.

Summary: Final pt of Should Probably Leave. As always, Joel is there for you when needed. Inspired by - Nickelback's - I'd Come for You.

Stupid. It was absolutely stupid of you to let slip the origin of your necklace in hearing distance from Tom. You knew he hated you constantly wearing and refusing to ever remove it, just as much as he hated the close relationship you once had with Joel and his family and yet you had gone and blurted out the truth of it having been a gift from Joel. It was an honest mishap on your part when one of the ladies at the party you were attending enquired about it. Tom was not too happy about finding out about it and the minute you were alone, had insisted that you remove it, you had refused as always and a huge fight a broken out between the two of you over it.

You had started seeing glimpses of Tom's true colors when he had started to slowly distance you from your family but had naively thought it was all in your mind, yet after last night, you knew differently. Tom had finally shown all his darkness during the argument, acting in the nastiest manor you had ever seen him act before and that was something you would not stand for.

"Hello..." a voice answers the phone.

"Joel" you utter softly out.

"Y/N?" Joel frowns at hearing how deflated you sound. "What's wrong?"

"I-" you begin but stop short when realizing he might not even care. "I'm sorry to be bothering you. It was silly of me... just forget I called. Take care-"

"Nuh-uh" Joel tsks over the phone, "something's wrong. Tell me."

Tears prick at your eyes as the dam finally burst, "I need you, Joel..."

Joel doesn't think twice at hearing the fear in your voice, "I'm on my way."

Just one more moment That's all that's needed Like wounded soldiers In need of healing Time to be honest This time I'm pleading Please don't dwell on it 'Cause I didn't mean it

*

You had taken the week off from work and were hiding out at a friend's house, refusing to go back to that house or that asshole, Tom ever again. And that was where Joel knew to find you when arriving in New York.

You were watching a movie on your laptop when a text message came through on your phone. "I'm downstairs."

Jumping up in excitement, your rushed for the front door, almost ripping it off its hinges with your enthusiasm. "Joel!", you fling yourself into his open arms.

"Hey, Sweetheart...", Joel chuckles into your hair, clutching tightly onto you as he deeply breathes in your scent.

After some time, you both finally let go of each other. "How are ya?, Joel gently cups your check.

"Much better now you're here...", you smile at him.

I can't believe I said I'd lay our love on the ground But it doesn't matter 'Cause I've made it up Forgive me now Everyday I spend away My soul's inside out Gotta be some way That I can make it up To you now, somehow

By now you know that

I'd come for you No one but you Yes, I'd come for you But only if you told me to And I'd fight for you I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you You know I'd always come for you

I was blindfolded But now I'm seeing My mind was closing Now I'm believing

*

"What happened?", Joel enquires once in your bedroom.

"I was stupid", you remark.

Joel frowns at your words, "how so?"

With sorrow filled eyes, you looked at Joel, "I was stupid for leaving home... for leaving you."

"Ya ain't stupid, Sweetheart", Joel protests as he pulls you into an embrace. Pulling back a bit and resting his forehead against yours, Joel stares deeply into your eyes. "If anything, I'm the stupid one for letting ya go."

"Joel...", you murmur, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"Sweetheart?"

"Kiss me...", you utter.

Searching your eyes for a second, Joel gently tilts your face upward as he captures your lips in a soft kiss. As difficult as it was, Joel does his best not to overwhelm you with his desire, but you were having it. You push to deepen the kiss, pulling Joel's body over your own as you lay back onto the bed.

Breaking from the kiss for air, Joel's eyes were tightly shut as panted heavily whilst rocking his forehead against yours. Taking a deep breath and reopening his eyes, Joel searches your own one last time. "Ya sure?"

A broad smile spreads across your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek, "more than anything..."

It's been three months since your return, and it was the best decision you had ever made. You were happy again for the first time since leaving for New York and it was all thanks to Joel.

Joel, who came running the second you needed him. Joel, who silently listened as you explained what had happened to trigger your call for help. Joel, who comforted you when you tearfully explained of how in a fit of rage, Tom had broken the links of your necklace when he found out Joel had gifted it to you.

Flashback

"What happened?", Joel finally breaches the topic after you had settled in bed.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you move out of Joel's arms to sit up. "We had a huge fight over the necklace you gave me."

With a deep scowl, Joel sits up as well, "what about it?"

"He's always hated it, always questioned why I never took it off. I let it slip at a party, that you had given it me and he overheard. Throw a massive fit when we arrived home and he-", you cut off mid-sentence as tears formed.

"Did he hurt you?", a furious Joel enquires, gently gripping your chin to look at him when you don't immediately answer. "Answer me. Did he hurt you...?"

Hastily shaking your head in a silent, no. Head dropping in shame not long after, "but-", going silent again, you motion for him to hold on as you turn toward the bedside table. Turning back, you present the necklace in your open palm to Joel, "he ripped it off during the argument and the links broke..."

"That all?", Joel stares it, then back up at you. You give a silent head nod, and Joel reaches out to grip your chin as he narrows his gaze onto yours, "ya sure?". You silently nod again. "Did he hurt you?", Joel presses once more.

"No, Joel", you finally utter out.

A huge smile spread across Joel's lips as he lovingly stares into your eyes. "I'll fix it", he responds, pulling you into his lap and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Long as ya safe... I can fix it."

And just like that; that chapter that was your life in New York was closed.

End

The move back home was much easier than you thought it would be, Sarah was ecstatic at your return and to your surprise, so were your parents. What surprised you even more was their nonchalant attitude to your and Joel's relationship.

Flashback

You busy preparing snacks in your parents' kitchen for the football game when Joel entered, wrapping his arms around from behind. "Missed ya...", he utters, peppering kisses along the column of your neck.

"You saw me last night...", you giggle at the sensation of his beard scraping against your flesh.

Turning you around to face him; Joel captures your lips in a hard kiss, resting his forehead against your, "always miss ya when ya not around me."

"Same", your arms wrap around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The kiss becomes more heated as Joel hoist you up onto a clear spot of the kitchen counter. Not too long into the make-out session, the two of you are interrupted by the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat.

"Don't mind us...", your mother waltz in pass your father without batting an eye, to place the drinks they gone out to get onto the nearby counter.

"Mom. Dad.", you stammer as Joel steps back and helps to place you safely back on the ground. "I- We-", is all you manage to get out.

Your father silently stares at you through narrowed gaze for a spilt second, his gaze moving toward Joel then; a huge smile spreading across his face. "Wanna help with the grill?"

"Sure", Joel smiles in return.

"What the fuck just happened?", you stare open-mouthed at retreating forms.

"You think we didn't know?", your mother answers with a soft chuckle and your eyes widen at her word.

"What...?"

Moving toward you, she reaches out to cup your cheek. "Honey... you've been in love with the man since you were sixteen... and we've known since then."

"How...?", is all you utter in response.

"You weren't really that good at hiding your feelings, Sweetie", your mother remarks. "Neither was Joel once you turned eighteen."

"And Dad?", you nervously enquire, "what has he said about it?"

"Your father was a bit uneasy at first. But he knew Joel was too much of gentleman to do anything inappropriate back then", your mother explains.

"Really...?", you utter, mind reeling with all this information. "Dad doesn't have a problem with me dating our older neighbor, that is also his friend?"

"Your father loves Joel...", your mother brushes your concern off with a scoff. "Said, he couldn't think of a better man for his daughter."

"Is that why he was so standoffish with Tom?", you ask once the puzzle pieces fell into place.

"Yup", your mother nods, a light giggle spilling from her lips then. "Can I confess somethin' to you?"

You silently not in response and she continues. "Your father and I had made a pact. That if the wedding with Tom happened, we woulda objected to it."

"What?", you giggle in response and your mother nods.

"We weren't 'bout to let you make the biggest mistake of your life, marrying a man you didn't love and didn't respect you. Especially knowing how much Joel and you loved one another."

Tears begin to prickle your eyes as you smiled at her, "thank you."

"We're just glad that Joel and you finally got ya heads outta ya ass and got together", your mother remarks, placing kiss to your forehead. A broad smile on her face then, "now I can finally say, yes, when people ask if Sarah's my grandchild."

And the rest of your fears involving going public with your relationship with Joel was history as your parents welcomed both he and Sarah into the family with open arms.

End

I finally know just what it means To let someone in To see the side of me That no one does or ever will So if you're ever lost and Find yourself all alone I'd search forever Just to bring you home Here and now, this I vow

By now you know that

I'd come for you No one but you Yes, I'd come for you But only if you told me to And I'd fight for you I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you You know I'd always come for you You know I'd always come for you

*

Two months after the scene in your parents' kitchen and now you were moving in with Joel.

"That's the last of it", Joel announces placing a box containing your belongings on the bedroom floor.

"Thank babe...", you call out from your spot on the floor, busy sorting out a box. Getting up when Joel moves toward you, meeting him halfway to wrap your arms around his neck. "I love you..."

Joel flashes you a dimpled smirk, uttering in response, "I love you too", as he tips down to kiss you. Breaking from the kiss; Joel rests forehead against yours, a glimmer of mischief shinning in his eyes as he stares at you. "Fixed ya necklace..."

"Thank you!", you squeal in excitement at getting it back, peppering Joel entire face with kisses.

"Easy there, Sweetheart...", Joel chuckles at your overexcitement. "It's in my top dresser draw", he encourages you to go retrieve it.

Narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously, you slowly head toward the dress. Joel moves to stand behind you as you open it, finding a large jewellery box inside; you take it out, a loud gasp escaping your lips when opening it. Inside, lies your repaired necklace but caused the shocked response; was the ring accompany it.

"Joel...?", you softly utter, turning around to find him on one knee in front of you.

"Marry me?", Joel utters out.

With teary eyes, you stared him for a second, finally nodding and utter out, "yes. Yes, I'll marry you!"

"Yes!", Joel hollers out in excitement, jumping up to scoop you into a tight embrace. "I love you...", he states, resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you too...", you tearfully whisper in response, and he tips to kiss you. Breaking the kiss, Joel carefully takes the ring from the box and places it on your finger. "Thank you...", you reach up to cup his cheek. "Thank you for coming to get me."

Placing his hand over yours, Joel brings your hand to lips and gently presses a kiss to it, "ya know I'll always come for ya... No matter what. No matter where... I'll always come for ya..."

No matter what gets in my way As long as there's still life in me No matter what, remember You know I'll always come for you

Yes, I'd come for you No one but you Yes, I'd come for you But only if you told me to And I'd fight for you I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you You know I'll always come for you

No matter what gets in my way As long as there's still life in me No matter what, remember You know I'll always come for you 

[ktwritesstuff]

Then Comes Marriage (a Last of Us fic)

Title: Then Comes Marriage Fandom: The Last of Us (no-pocalypse AU) Rating: PG Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x plus size!Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: The rough and ready followup to First Comes Love. Wedding day fluff.

A/N: Apologies for the lack of smuttiness, but I feel that wedding night sex is overrated. Un-beta'd, may God have mercy on my soul.

-

In lieu of a bachelor party, Joel and Tommy chartered a fishing boat out of Galveston the week before the wedding.  You hadn’t vetoed strippers–it would hardly be fair after the Cirque du Soleil-level adult performer your sister had hired for the bachelorette weekend you spent with her in New York.  You suspected it was more for Sarah’s sake than yours, but Joel had politely insisted (to Tommy’s great disappointment) he was getting too old for that sort of thing.  

While the Miller boys spent some quality time on the Gulf, you and Sarah got to have your own girls’ weekend.  You went to the mall for mani-pedis and had lunch at the Chinese buffet.  In J.C. Penney, a saleswoman at the makeup counter helped you both pick out new lipstick and eye-shadow for the big day.  Just because it was a simple courthouse affair didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun with it.  After you took Sarah over to the jewelry counter as well.  

“Why don’t you pick something out?” you said.  “I want to get you something for being my bridesmaid.”  

Sarah looked over the display case and ran her fingers over a display of charm bracelets.  Her fingers paused on a gold bracelet bearing the word MOM.

“What should I call you,” she asked.  “After you and my dad get married?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said.  “I’d love it if you decide to call me mom one day, but I certainly don’t expect it.” 

Sarah shrugged.  “Do you think you’ll have kids of your own?” 

“We’ve talked about it,” you said.  “We’re going to try, but it doesn’t always work out.”  

Neither you nor Joel were exactly spring chickens and unless you wanted to be mistaken for grandparents in the kindergarten pickup line you’d have to get started.  The truth was you had already thrown protection to the wind the past few months, so far without success and you could already feel the anxiety mounting.  You told yourself that three was enough; three was a family, but there was still a powerful yearning inside you.  

Of course, Sarah didn’t need to hear about that.  You could sympathize with her reservations.  Not many of her friends or classmates had a thirteen year age gap with their siblings.  

“I know it’d probably be weird for you to have a baby brother or sister,” you admitted.  “But I hope you know no matter what, you’ll always be your daddy’s baby girl.”  

Sarah turned the bracelet over in her hands so the lettering formed a different word as she waved it in front of your face.

“Wow,” she teased.  “That was cheesy as hell.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, nudging her arm.

“No wonder you and my dad fell in love,” she said, rolling her eyes.

When the clerk came back around the counter, Sarah chose a teardrop shaped ruby on a gold chain that would compliment the dress that Joel had gotten her to wear for the ceremony.  

“I think you should have a baby,” Sarah said as you walked through the parking lot, content with your purchases.  “I charge $20 an hour for babysitting.”  

You laughed.  “You drive a hard bargain.”

“$15 once they’re out of diapers,” she added.

“Fair enough.”

You took Sarah home and stayed with her until Joel and Tommy got back, sun-kissed and still a little hungover.  You and Joel had agreed not to see each other again before the ceremony on Friday, which gave you some time to pack up your apartment and put the finishing touches on the flowers.  

Your sister flew in the day before to scout the best locations around the courthouse for family photos.  She did your hair and makeup in the morning and offered to drive you to the courthouse, but you didn’t quite trust her behind the wheel.

Once you made it through courthouse security you met Tommy in the lobby and he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“Are we all checked in?” you asked.

“Yeah, they’ve got us in courtroom 6,” Tommy pointed down the hall.  “Supposed to be about a half hour.”

You realized you were shaking as you swapped out your flats for a more elegant pair of heels and Tommy reached out to steady you.  

“How you holding up, buddy?” 

“You know, I’m good,” you said.  “How is he?”

“The same,” Tommy said with a bright smile.  “I think he’s really keeping it together; only asked me about 50 times if I thought you were still coming.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you said, letting out a peal of nervous laughter. 

“I’m running down to the cafe to grab a coffee, do you want anything?”  

“Water,” you said, your stomach churning at the thought of fried food and burnt coffee.  “Maybe a ginger ale–with a straw–” Your sister would kill you if you ruined your lipstick before taking a single photo.

“You got it, Sis,” Tommy gave you a thumbs up.

“Emma’s got your boutonniere if you want to grab it on your way down,” you explained, pointing back to the metal detectors where your sister was still reinstalling her various piercings.

Once you were both sorted, you gathered the rest of the flowers and started down the hall.  Then you saw Joel.  He was pacing back and forth across the hall, but froze on the spot when he saw you.  

You always thought he was handsome (or at least, almost always) but seeing him all put together in a dark navy suit, with a vest no less!  It was surreal, for a moment you forgot this was the man you were supposed to be marrying in a little less than half an hour. 

“You look beautiful,” Joel said, leaning over to kiss you.

“Not on the mouth!” Emma screamed, still lagging a few steps behind you and Joel leapt back in alarm. 

“I did not bring enough makeup wipes to clean you both up,” she warned, combing her fingers through Joel’s hair unsolicited, arranging his curls more to her liking.  For his part, Joel was very patient with her or at least too nervous to protest.   

“You two shouldn’t be kissing before the ceremony anyway,” Sarah chimed in.

“You look beautiful, sweetie,” you said, beaming at Sarah.

Emma handed you Joel’s boutonniere and snapped a few pictures as you pinned it to his lapel–a red rosebud and yellow alyssum to match the sunflowers in your bouquet with a few sprigs of evergreen for balance.  

“You look very handsome,” you said, resting your hand on his chest.  

“I’m glad you’re here,” Joel said.

“Me, too,” you giggled. 

Joel rested his big hands on your bare arms and pressed his forehead toward yours.  You felt like a teenager with butterflies in your stomach and bubbles in your throat. 

“We got you something, too,” Joel said, taking a small box out of his jacket.  

Inside was a delicate gold necklace with “MOM” in cursive letters suspended between the two sides of the chain.  As simple as it was, it felt like a great honor as Joel reached to fasten it around your neck.  

“Dad, you put it on wrong,” Sarah protested, reaching for the charm nestled at the base of your throat and flipping it over  “It’s supposed to go like this.  Now you’re my Wow.”

You laughed, holding the charm between your fingers, contemplating your own special nickname. 

“I love it,” you said, pulling Sarah into a hug.  You heard the click of Emma’s camera as you embraced, but you ignored it.  “I love it so much.”  

Emma had the three of you pose for more photographs and then you took a seat on the wooden bench while she had Sarah and Joel stand together on their own.  

“For the bride,” Tommy said, trotting down the hallway with a can of soda in hand.  “With a straw.”  

“Now let’s get one of the boys,” Emma said, herding Tommy and Joel into the good lighting.

Sarah took a seat beside you as you sipped the ginger ale to try settle your stomach.

“How are your feet?” you asked, watching her point and flex her toes in her sweet little kitten heels.  “Mine are already killing me.  Try not to lock your knees–cuts off the circulation.”

Sarah shrugged, leaning against your shoulder.  You reached for her hand, looping your pinky finger around hers.  You never imagined as a child that your wedding day would come complete with a nearly grown up daughter, but now that it was here you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.          

“We’re ready for you,” a clerk announced, poking his head out the door.  

In the judge’s chamber you signed the marriage certificate and recited your vows with Tommy and Emma as witnesses.

“I’m told you’re exchanging rings,” the judge said. 

“Oh shit,” Tommy rifled through the inner pockets of his jacket while you laughed nervously.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groaned as Tommy finally handed over the rings.

Joel went first, gripping your hand as if he still expected you to try to run as he repeated after the judge and slipped the ring on your finger.  Then it was your turn.

“Joel,” you said.  “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.”

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas,” the judge declared finally.  “In the presence of God and the witness of friends and family, it is my great privilege to pronounce you husband and wife–”

Without hesitation, Joel took your face in both his hands and kissed you on the mouth.  You smiled against his lips as a wave of relief flooded your body.  A tornado hadn’t destroyed the courthouse, aliens hadn’t invaded, you had done it.  You were officially married.

Tommy had a friend from the service who had opened up a Salvadoran restaurant in San Antonio who had offered you the use of the back room to host a small reception with friends.  You ate pupusas and drank sangria and danced your first dance when “Love Me Tender” came on over the classic radio station playing from the bar.  

You were surprised to learn Joel was actually a quite willing dance partner, at least after a few beers.   His strong arms and firm hold on your waist made it easy to follow his lead despite how out of practice you were.

By the end of the day you were so tired (and at least a little tipsy) that you nearly got into a car with one of Tommy’s army buddies while Joel went to pull the truck around and gave everyone a good laugh.

“I’m going to stay with Uncle Tommy tonight,” Sarah said as you loaded up the car.

“Are you sure?” you asked as Emma made sure you were safely arranged in the passenger seat of the truck.  You worried about putting Sarah out of her home as your first act as her step-mother.  

“I’ve got her, don’t worry,” Tommy said, handing you a doggy-bag from the restaurant.  “This is from Dan and Gia.  Good night, guys.  Love you both.”

“I love you, too,” you crooned out the window as he closed the car door for you.  “I always wanted a baby brother named Tommy.”

The last of the guests waved sparklers as Joel pulled out of the parking lot.  You opened the bag on your lap and squealed with excitement at the sight of a large piece of tres leches cake.

“Oh my god, this was so good,” you moaned.  “I had two pieces!  I had seis leches.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Joel chuckled as you ripped open the little plastic package of flatware.  “I’m pretty sure that’s for the anniversary.”

“You think I’m going to let this cake get freezer-burn for a year?”  

You stabbed the cake with a fork, scooping the moist, creamy cake into your mouth.  And just to be fair, you held the next bite out to Joel as you were stopped at an intersection.  

“That’s good, right?” you said, wiping a bit of cream from his chin.  “You want more?”

“I’m stuffed,” Joel waved you off, pulling the car into the driveway.  “Home sweet home.”

Joel came around to open the car door and help you out of the truck.  On the porch you both paused, having a moment of internal debate.  Joel clearly thought he should carry you over the threshold, but you didn’t want him throwing out his back on your wedding night.  

“I can lift you,” he said.  “It’s bad luck, you know, for the bride to walk over the threshold.” 

“It’s bad luck for the bride to trip,” you said.  “Just don’t let me fall.”  

You reached for Joel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his.  

“I won’t.  I promise.”    

Inside the house you indulged in loud moans and sloppy love-drunk kisses on your way to the bedroom, but once your ass made contact with the bed you remembered all at once that you had been up since five in the morning being primped and poked and coiffed to perfection.

“I’m so tired,” you moaned.

“You don’t want to?” Joel paused, his hands knotted in your panties already half-way down your thighs.

“No,” you sighed.  “I want to, just don’t be offended if I nod off half-way through, okay?”

“You’re sure,” he said, sitting up in bed.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face first." You reluctantly climbed out of the bed.  

Joel let his hands linger on your face, placing a kiss on your mouth.

“Unzip me?” you said, turning your back to him and sweeping your hair off your neck.

“Of course, Mrs. Miller.”

Joel slid your zipper down carefully, but as he moved his hands lower you ducked away from him, wagging a finger in his face.  You slipped out of your dress and went to the bathroom to scrub your face, putting on a satin night dress.  

Back in the bedroom Joel was stretched out on his stomach in bed, snoring softly, and you chuckled, slipping under the covers beside him. You snugged yourself against his solid warmth and ran one manicured nail down his nose as he slept.

“I love you, Mr. Miller.”  

[thatstoomanysausages]

is Scott in your funky life thing (can’t spell sorry)

He is not! But not for long‼️‼️💥💥

GAY RIGHTS🏳️‍🌈‼️‼️‼️😭😭(Tomodachi Life)

- CuteGuy has been changed to Ariana Griande just because of how feminine I made CuteGuy😭, bear with, I’ll make CG again)

- As always I have short term memory loss and I forget if I have said this but: Lizzie and Pearl are besties

- I feel like I’ve said it before

- Getting Deja vu

- Just let it happen

- Grian: “It feels like I’ve known Joe all my life” The duo I never knew I needed

- Cuteguy has a fucking incredible poker face btw

- Iscared a fart out of BigB

- I gave Etho a ballet manual and now he is spinning in pirouettes around the room😭

- Tango is dreaming about being seaweed… good for him ig😀

- I got fried seafood as a gift😭

- Tango told me to go to Pearl cause she had a story to tell me and she’s saying FUCK ALL😭😭

- All men do is lie

- Joe and Ella (Pearl and Ren’s child) are friends ‼️‼️‼️‼️ COOL UNCLE VIBES‼️

- Martyn did an impression of Timmy and he just sounded the same but I can’t tell if the impression was shit or I made them have the same voice😭😭

- Joel wants to take Jimmy on a date oh my god😭😭

- The beach for sure😍

- HotGuy and Poultry man have had a fight guys

- I gave HG crisps and he calmed down instantly 😭😭 me

- Okay they made up

- That was rlly anticlimactic ‼️

- Joel and Jim are on the beach while they are both wearing dresses, one of which being a maid dress😭😭😭 PLEASE

- So… did a a judgement bay thing which is basically “choose a side”

- I drew a dick and vag on each side

- 16:4 (dick wins)

- Here are some honourable mentions:

- For dick:

- Etho: A kid would definitely choose this (😨 I mean… he’s not wrong😭)

- Tango: I went on my instinct (okay… go king..?)

- HotGuy: this is basically the only choice (gay rights‼️‼️ bisexual allegations destroyed in one fell swoop)

- Jimmy: This choice just feels right (I wanna say a slur rn…😟)

- Martyn: It makes the most sense (to you babes… to you)

- Grian: This is okay, isn’t it? (The internalised homophobia is crazy😭 (so real))

- Ariana Griande: There’s more than one correct answer (BISEXUAL QUEEN😍😍😍)

- And for the vag side (the correct one):

- Skizz: This one! My reasons are secret (my first day at high school, I hope no one notices I’m straight!!🥺🥺)

- Joel: A kid would definitely choose this (Pls Joel not you too😭😭)

- Lizzie: This one is so grown up (real! Liking vag is a very maturing experience😍😍😍😍 (I’m aroace))

- Okay, now: 3rd Life vs Last Life vs Double Life vs Limited Life

- 4:2:9:5‼️

- Mumbo (3rd): To tell the truth, I have no idea (yh cause you weren’t there babes😭)

- Grian (Double): This is basically the only choice (Yeah okay😭 Gayass)

- Scar (Double): Unbelievably, it’s a good choice (why both of you😭)

- Impulse (Double): I was under pressure to go here (😭HAHA)

- Pearl (Limited): A noice wouldn’t know to go to this one (SO TRUE‼️ LIMITED LIFE🔛🔝‼️)

- Did a men vs women vs both vs none

- Both won🩷💜💙 bisexual rights

- And to the surprise of no one, Grian and Scar were in the men’s section😭

- Ren, the only one in none: I was under pressure to go here (okay aroace with a wife king)

- TANGO IS IN LOVE

- WITH JOEEEEEE

- GAY RIGHTTSSSSSS

- yes confess in your flamenco dress

- JOE GHOSTED HIM

- OH MY GOD

- “He didn’t even show up…” ARE YOU FUCKINF SERIOUS😭😭😭😭😭

- HES DEPRESSED

- I’ll hyponise him… yes😍

- It did not work👍😍

- He’s kinda a buzzkill to be around😬

- Anyway

- SCOTT SMAJOR IS HERE‼️‼️‼️

[asterssunzephyr]

@steller-the-storyteller

New I see [My] Reflection in your eyes developmeny!!

Shelby literally rewrites history, so much so that the Crystal Cliffs and Grimlands still live in s2. Count Fwhip and Grand Wizard Gem have mastered transformation and now live as "Familars" in the Evermoore. Tortiose is Shelby's real familar, but everyone assumes Shelby's just a strong witch with three. Fwhip goes by "Count" in his "familar" form, while Shelby lies and tells everyone that her familar-cat is named Gem because of her eyes, not because of the Sun Princess.

Fwhip's form is a bat, while Gem's is a calico cat with more orange and white than browns and black.

The familars can talk but they only do so when theyre alone w Shelby.

Witches & Wizards get along after the history-fix, and theres two rumours of 1) A time travelling witch who lived between the Crystal Cliffs and the Grimlands, and 2) That the timetravelling witch was Grand Wizard Grim's apprentice (half-truth)

Gnomes can be seen every now again, after being found 500 years post s1 timeline. The Overgrown became GlimmerGrove and was never cursed.

Shelby is covinced Kat will choose Joey now that she isnt cursed.

The Sculkby arc happens different (will be in teal when I get there)

Tortiose's vc will be Grian in the sense that he's like Count & Gem, a human who can transform into an animal. (Tortiose doesnt look like Grian, its just the voice claim in this au)

s1 Joel is s2 Joel. They are the same person, Joel knows who Shelby is, who "Count" is, and the truth of Gem The Calico. Not his secrets to tell though.

Shelby wears the Xornoth Crystal, which begins to absorb the magic of sculk – no one realizes before its too late for Shelby. When She's corrupted, its like a haze for her. He doesnt remember what he does under the corruption, but everyone else does. The arc is longer, and still ended by Sausage stopping them but he's helped by Count and Gem The Calico. They tell him everything from Shelby rewriting history to the crystal corrupting them.

The overall timeline for this au is as so:

s2 takes place over 4 years. One of these years, Shelby goes missing and history is literally changed. The year after is when Shelby's corrupted (He's corrupted in December of the first year, Back To December (Taylors Version) is the song for Nature Wives (s2) in this au for multiple reasons that Ill explain in pink)

The last two years are with Shelby fixing themself and healing from corruption – this also leads to Nature Wives going on their coffee date. Rather than 10 years post s2, wcsmp would take place 6 years later:). Shelby's 18 at the start of this au, and 22 by the end!!

Back To December TV:

The Princess Tea Party takes place mid-december and Shelby's corrupted earlier that month. She's still corrupt by the time of the party, and it still leads to the canon "fight" between her and Katherine. at this time, Shelby still has half of his mind intact and thats why hes so confused and doesnt know what to do anymore. When Katherine offers help, its Sculked-Xornoth who leaks out and into Shelby's voice about "You cant even help yourself!"

Fast forward to Late December of the next year. Shelby's no longer corrupted and his hair is white now. They stand at the Glimmer Grove castle after a year of avoidance and one-sided hatred from them. (Both have been avoiding each other, Shelby's onesided hatred was unknown to Kat but known to them)

January of the third year is when they go on their coffee date.

[anhed-nia]

I'm sorry about this post. It's really long and I don't know if I had a point to make! But I didn't realize I was maybe just torturing myself and others until I was neck deep in it, and now I feel obligated to post it due to sunk cost fallacy. Sorry again. I guess this is how you find out who your real friends are.

In the pursuit of my masochistic project of understanding the enduring Phantom of the Opera phenomenon, last night I spontaneously went to a rep screening of Joel Schumacher's Oscar-nominated 2004 adaptation. This was a singalong audience participation type of thing, which I would usually avoid at all costs especially for something I have no emotional investment in, but it was just too strange that it was randomly happening while I'm in the middle of this assignment, so I went! We all got fake roses and Phantom masks and rubber bracelets that say OPERA GHOST and little artificial candles to light up during the big chandelier scenes, and there was a singing contest before the movie started and I almost had a panic attack, but I managed to maintain my sense of humor. Apparently the climate control was totally broken and it was oppressively hot in the house, to the point that I wound up sitting there in a painted-on Uniqlo undershirt for most of the movie, and I couldn't bring myself to get dressed again for about half an hour after it was over. I walked down to the bar attached to the theater where the queen running their drag bingo night and the bartender were laughing about how they should leave the heat blasting because everyone was buying a lot more drinks. The bartender quizzed us drinkers about which theaters were we in and were they hot; I said "This is not an outdoor shirt!" and everyone laughed. I'm so glad I wasn't wearing a weird bra.

Anyway.

It would be too much to say I had high hopes for the Schumacher PHANTOM, but I had a certain amount of optimism about it; he seemed like a really good choice for this irredeemably kitschy product, but the truth is that the movie is completely neutered. It really needed some of that BATMAN FOREVER juice, but the whole thing just has no energy. Apparently Andrew Lloyd Webber had "complete creative control" and I think it really shows, it's very limp and undistinguished, and simultaneously pretentious and stupid. Sometimes things can be described as "lavish" because they are so exquisitely realized, and sometimes they are "lavish" on account of the fact that they are just extremely busy, even though no single detail rises to the surface as memorable or remarkable. Even the chandelier, which is as much a staple of this story as the mask, is just not that impressive. There it is, a big old chandelier, it's round and it's shiny and you know exactly what's going to happen to it.

Any comparison with the 1925 Lon Chaney version is inevitably unflattering; the costumes are bad, the staging is boring--I mean there is just no excuse for a big Hollywood production to NOT go ham on the masquerade ball, WTF?!--and of course, the Phantom himself is really uninspiring. The most important part of any Phantom iteration is the unmasking, and this movie has TWO (2) whole unmasking scenes and both of them suck! We all know that no Phantom design has been remotely as good as Chaney's nearly 100-year old version, but still, Joel Schumacher has worked on movies with some really freaky makeup effects, he should have given us something better than this. The whole thing just feels like they were trying as hard as possible not to surprise or offend anyone. I blame ALW.

I see this image and I hear wind whistling through their ears.

The problem with the unmasking sceneS here (besides the lack of visual impact) is that they both feel really unmotivated. Actually, this is almost ALWAYS a problem. It's the biggest moment in the story and you shouldn't be asking yourself WHY it is happening. Plus, the reason why it is happening lies with the heroine Christine, and if your main character's motivations for doing something so outrageous are unclear or uncompelling, then your whole story is in trouble. As a viewer you can tell yourself that she does it because she is overwhelmed by curiosity, or overpowered by a compassionate urge to see the Phantom as he is, or that she sees the unmasking as a way of defanging her captor...but you shouldn't have to tell yourself all that stuff. The movie should tell you. And who the fuck is Christine anyway, shouldn't we know? In other versions Christine is so devoted to her career that she readily sacrifices her love life and embraces the absurdity of a sort of spirit of opera communicating with her and guiding her path. Some versions dramatize the conflict between her monastic commitment to opera and her desire for real relationships. In the AWL version, Christine is chiefly devoted to getting attention. She falls in love, from minute to minute, with anyone who looks at her long enough. She's in love with her dead dad, so she's just frantically in search of a living boyfriend and she seems pretty indiscriminate about it. It's kind of gross and pathetic and it makes it really hard to care about her or the burning question of which boyfriend will she choose.

I've never said this before in my entire life, but Minnie Driver is the best thing in this movie--followed by the old queens who take over the theater, followed by all of the bit players, followed by, at the very bottom, the main cast. None of the leads are really inspired casting choices, but it's hard to blame them for their output because there is nothing they could possibly do with such empty roles. Who is Christine? The girl who has to pick a boyfriend. Who is Raoul? The guy who wants to be Christine's boyfriend. Who is the Phantom? The other guy who wants to be Christine's boyfriend. I mean there's this brief, grotesque excuse made for what the Phantom's problem is, but it comes far too late and explains too little. It just boils down to ye olde "not getting laid drives you nuts, so we should be afraid of ugly people." There are no personalities to be found here, and casting generically pretty actors of no distinction really hurt things in the characterization department.

Full disclosure though: I'm very faceblind. I have a lot of trouble identifying actors, and sometimes I can't even tell people apart within one movie. So, because I didn't look up very much about this production going in, I was sitting there for at least 90 solid minutes constantly thinking:

Is that Patrick Wilson? That's Patrick Wilson. It is, right? Patrick? Wilson? Yeah no it definitely is. Like for sure. Right? PaTRICK? WILson??? Pa.........Wi........

At a certain point after I finally accepted that it was probably him I just started laughing every time I saw him. But to be totally fair to ME, this presentation barely resembles a real live person:

And that hair is unacceptable. I'm sorry, Patrick Wilson. It's not your fault. I really liked the INSIDIOUS sequel you directed even though no one else did, so I'm sure we can be special friends.

The main effect of the Schumacher/ALW PHANTOM was...making me really aware of how much I like the Menahem Golan one with Robert Englund. Really! I thought I didn't like it. I know I saw it when I was young, when I had major league Freddy Kreuger fever (worse than now, somehow), so it would seem like if it didn't get its hooks in me then, it never would. But now that I have sat through...many Phantom iterations, I have become aware that it is genuinely one of the better attempts on the story. It has a lot of personality! It's trashy and juicy and a lot of fun. It even looks pretty good sometimes! I fondly remember specific costume details, which I cannot say about the big expensive ALW one. I'm not here to tell you that it's a great example of cinema or something, but it is vastly more entertaining than much of what's been done with this story by more reputable people. You'd think it would be hampered by the lack of a proper mask, but the gory unmasking scene is spectacular, AND it gets around the question of why Christine unmasks the Phantom which has not been answered satisfactorily by almost any movie. I was pining for the Englund edition for all 2.5 hours of this ALW debacle. I was even pining for Jill Schoelen as Christine! Not that I have a problem with Jill Schoelen, she's very charming. It's just that I hate POPCORN, which she stars in and which is itself a kind of Phantom adaptation. I'm not watching it again, though, no matter what. My agita.

[all54321]

Connections

[AO3]

This has been sitting in my notes for weeks now and I haven’t been able to continue it, but it does contain a good bit of information for the Mafia AU so I’ll post it and make a part 2 if I figure out how to continue it.

A little “disclaimer”: Do not take assumptions or guesses by the characters as facts, because they’re just assumptions. You can choose to believe it if you want, but just know that it’s only the truth if either I say it is or if the people involved in the assumption confirm it.

—————

With the rising tensions between gangs, it wasn’t too surprising to receive a message about a meeting between the Bad Boys, the Clockers, and the Mean Gills. It’s important to have connections in this kind of world, even more important now. Grian had known that the Clockers and Mean Gills were allied for some time now, but hasn’t met the pair personally yet. With how things are going it makes sense that they’d be meeting now. The three groups being on the same page and all individually allied will definitely strengthen their web of connections. Both in general and for appearances.

Grian is definitely interested in meeting the Mean Gills himself, having only heard passing information about them. If their name is anything to go by, he’s betting on at least one of them being a mer. While he’d love to figure that out, outing someone as a hybrid is a surefire way to get yourself killed. Grian understands that more then most, it’s either kill or be killed, at best. Mutilated at worst. Captured and tortured at least.

Grian’s thrown out of his thoughts by Joel entering the room, pushing up his sunglasses to cover his eyes, “you boys ready to go?”

Grian fixes his own, “yup.” Jimmy nods in agreement.

“I’ll drive,” Joel says, already grabbing the keys and heading towards their garage.

“I call shotgun!” Jimmy says, hurrying after him. Grian rolls his eyes as he follows.

~

It doesn’t take them long to arrive at the house that Grian knows that the Clockers don’t actually live in. He’s not sure why someone would buy a full separate house just to hold meetings in. Joel knocks on the door, with Grian and Jimmy standing just behind him.

Only a few moments later Scar opens the door, his grin dazzlingly bright, “you’re here! Come in, come in.”

“Are the Mean Gills already here?” Grian asks as he steps inside, briefly glancing around. Scar nods, walking down the hallway to the dinning room where they usually meet.

As he follows behind Scar, his mind wanders back to how strong connections are. Connections are important in their world, it equates to trust, more often than not. The Clockers foster this easily by being related to each other. Scar and Bdubs trust Cleo with their lives, as she’s proven that she’ll do anything to protect them. Cleo also has the utmost faith in them, anyone can see that.

Then there’s him and Jimmy, cousins that grew up together for most of their lives. In that brief time where they were apart, Jimmy met Joel, through ways Grian still isn’t fully aware of. Grian didn’t hesitate to join them when he saw Jimmy again.

And then there’s a different kind of connection all together. Love. Grian’s aware that some gangs will set up arranged marriages to form these connections, albeit forcefully. Sometimes it works, many times it doesn’t. If he was allowed to guess, he’d say that Cleo and Etho were originally an arranged marriage. What Grian and Scar have was never intended to be that way, yet Grian can’t help but recognize that it might end up being like that in the end. Not that the others are aware that they’re dating still. That’s their secret to keep for a while longer.

Scar immediately heads to his seat besides Cleo the moment they enter the room. Grian moves to sit across the from one of the Mean Gills, who has blonde hair and blue eyes. What catches Grian’s eyes the most is the headband of coral he wears around his head. Although both of them have numerous coral accessories. Grian looks closer at the other one, something about his teal hair seeming strange to Grian, not that he can pinpoint why.

He looks back to see Jimmy standing still, a light blush on his face. Joel gives him an exasperated look before dragging him to the table as well. Jimmy seems to become even more flustered when he takes the seat next to Grian, directly in front of the other Mean Gill.

As Grian opens his mouth to poke fun, Cleo cuts him off, “now that we’re all here, let’s begin.”

“Right,” Grian replies, turning to look at her, forcing himself to not glance at Scar, who he can feel staring at him.

“It’s nice to meet you three finally,” Scott says, drawing Grian’s attention. “I’m Scott, and this is Martyn.”

“Grian, and this is Timmy and Joel,” he says, pointing to each of them respectively.

“It’s Jimmy,” he corrects, muttering lowly.

Scott raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, “it’s about time we meet since we share allies.”

“Agreed,” Joel replies.

“Are you The Shrike?” Martyn asks abruptly.

Grian groans as he meets his eyes, “that was one time.”

“Still fitting,” Joel says, cracking a grin.

“How about I impale you on a metal pole!?” He hisses, glaring at his fellow Bad Boy.

“It would be an improvement,” Jimmy says, nodding.

Joel raises his hands up in surrender, “okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

“Not much point since the nickname has already spread,” Scott comments, seeming amused.

“Did you actually impale someone?” Bdubs cuts in, sounding surprised.

“Where did you think the nickname came from?” Grian shoots back, before letting out a breath. “Yes, I did. The fight ended up with neither of us having weapons, so I ended up grabbing the closest thing to me and jabbing forwards when he came at me. Guess being in an abandoned warehouse worked out for that.”

“And it was a metal pole?” Scar asks, looking both impressed and in awe.

Grian quickly looks away, lightly blushing from the way Scar is staring at him, “uh, yeah, it was.” He resolutely ignores Joel’s quiet snickering.

“Let’s get back on track,” Cleo says, effectively ending that conversation, Grian can’t help but be thankful for it.

—————

On assumptions, I’ll confirm one: Scott is indeed a type of mer, although not in the typical mermaid way. He can hide his mer appearance when on land/not in contact with water, but the more water he’s in contact with or the longer he is in contact with water, the more mer he’d look. He’s fully turned when in water.

As for what Grian means by “he understands that more than most”? I’ll leave that up to interpretation for now :)

(While I won’t lie about stuff, it doesn’t mean that I won’t be cryptic)