wayward-dreamer - Tumblr blog

wayward-dreamer · 3 days ago

Text

Omg this was all so good!!! Loved it, loved it, loved it!!! 😍

The scene talking about Sarah was so beautiful and all the imagery of them with the kitten was too cute!! 🥰

I will say my sixth sense has been activated and I feel like something bad is about to happen but I’m choosing to stay delulu 😂

Can’t wait for more!!! ❤️

Chapter 13: Anew

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Doctor Female Reader Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Soon, you’ll be making new memories with Joel inside your shared home. What once was a temporary place to stay while you healed a broken man is now a comfortable and happy home full of love, getting ready to welcome a new, tiny feline life. Chapter Warnings: smut, lap dance, riding, blow job, cum eating, domestic domestic domestic things, KITTEN, hints of a panic attack, suicide attempt mention, sarah memories, MOVIES! Words: 4,800

A/N: My "can never be happy with what I made" self thinks this chapter is boring but @for-a-longlongtime read through this and let me know it's okay if Joel and Doc have a nice and calm cozy chapter. Anyways, welcome to another entry of Mallory Puts Too Much Pressure On Her Hobby & Will Never Know Peace. Hope you enjoy.

Healed Masterlist | Healed Playlist | Healed, The Video Edit | AO3

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

—-

Lonesome Dove lies atop the bookshelf in the bedroom. Only a hundred pages left, and yet, it still sits unfinished. Joel picks it up, feeling the heaviness of the book, the pages that chart the progression of his recovery, the growth of his feelings for you. He sits in the chair with his reading glasses on and opens the book, flipping through the first few chapters; he doesn’t recall much about them, just the sweet lilt of your voice as you’d read to him, the only thing keeping him going those first scary weeks.

Many upper corners of the pages are dog-eared, reflecting your care and dedication to not only healing his body, but also his heart. Your kindness, reading to him night after night, sometimes falling asleep in the chair beside his bed, the book open on your lap. Once he could finally see you, since he first saw your beautiful face, he could never look away.

There’s a frayed edge on the cover. He remembers the sight of it lying on the floor that morning after he first knew the taste of your lips and the feel of your body on top of his.

With every turn of the page, every chapter read, he fell for you harder and harder. You came into his life and saved it, turning death and despair into a future and love. People used to talk about silver linings, about good coming from bad, but he stopped believing in that kind of optimism long ago. Yet now, with you in his life and his home, planning a future, he's starting to think maybe there's something to it after all.

"Are we ever going to finish that?" you ask, walking into the bedroom.

"One day,” he says, “but I already got my happy ending."

"Aww," you say, rolling your eyes and sauntering over to him. "I can give you a really happy ending if you'd like."

Joel can't answer; he just nods and grunts.

"Sit back," you say, untying your robe with a tantalizing smile that lifts your lips. “No touching.”

He obeys, his body already burning with desire for you as you stand before him. The robe drops down your arms to the floor as your hips sway slightly. You lean forward, resting your hands on his thighs, his eyes instantly focus on your breasts, his mouth waters when he thinks about licking his way across the curve of them.

You run your hands up your sides, fingers trailing across your skin. He groans, his hungry eyes devouring the way your gorgeous body moves. His jaw tics, the temptation to touch you tightens every muscle and nerve in his body, and when you straddle his lap, hovering over him, knees bracketing his thighs, his back straightens, and his hands grip the armrests, refusing to give in to the temptation to touch you.

You lean in to ghost your lips over the shell of his ear. “Just relax,” you purr.

He grunts, nodding as you drop your center over him and begin to grind against his cock, his robe barely concealing his hardness. You lean away, arching your back, dragging your hands down your chest, fingers circling your nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. He’s being so disciplined, so still, save for the slight tremble of need radiating out of him.

“Christ baby,” he growls, “you’re killin’ me.”

Your fingers slide down between your legs. He bites his lip, the sight of you touching yourself while perched on his lap is almost too much.

“Oh yeah?” you ask. “You want a taste?”

“Please,” he whimpers. He doesn’t care how pathetic he sounds. For you and only you, he’d beg.

You smirk as you bring your fingers up to his mouth. “Open,” you command.

He obeys, and you stick two of your fingers in his mouth, his cheeks hollow around them, sucking the slick off of them. Fuck, you taste so sweet. He sighs happily at the taste of you, his eyes focused on you, needing to see your face, and the way your lips part as you watch him.

“Good?” you whisper, slowly withdrawing your fingers that he chases with his mouth, desperate for more. You pull back with a teasing smile. “Greedy, aren’t we, Mr. Miller?”

Every muscle in his body is coiled tightly, and he almost cums right there at the sound of your voice. He hisses a growl when you swirl your hips against him, grinding down against his cock, standing hard for you.

To everyone else, you’re the calming and caring doctor, a steadfast medic—but behind the doors of his home, you’re something else, something tantalizing, a vixen.

“Sweetheart,” he manages, “I don’t know how long I can go without feeling your pussy wrapped around m’cock.” He’s ready to beg for your cunt. You don’t give him time to plead. You reach down, untying his robe and parting it, tugging at his cock before you position your pussy perfectly over him. He can’t even take a breath or prepare himself before you sink down, taking him fully inside you.

“Fuck!” he gasps loudly, his hands breaking free from the armrests to grip your hips as your heat encompasses him. Your body rolls against his, fucking him fast and hard, your breasts bouncing before his eyes. He leans forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and laving against it as his fingers dig into your flesh tighter, guiding you up and down his cock.

“Joel,” you groan. “I’m so close.”

He looks up at you, watching as you take what you need from him, his hand snaking between your legs to press swirls against your clit that take you over the edge. He watches you get lost in everything he gives you, his cock, his heart, his sounds of devotion grunting into the air as you ride him. Your body tenses as your head falls back, the sound of his name echoes across the room as your pussy pulses around his cock, your orgasm rolling through you, squeezing him tight.

You’re still quivering with aftershocks when you climb off his lap and settle between his legs. You hum a sweet sound as your tongue darts out to lick the taste of yourself left against the head of his cock before you take him into your mouth. His body tightens as he watches you take him deeper, eyes locked on his as the wet heat of your mouth welcomes him completely.

“Jesus, baby, you look so good,” he moans.

Your tongue swirls around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck. He’s so fucking close, just the sight of your pretty mouth with his cock in it makes him already feel the tingles shoot across his body.

“Baby, gonna cum,” he grits, hips bucking up to meet your mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations bringing him even closer until it’s too much for him to take, and he cums. You don’t pull your mouth away, you suck harder, making him feel almost dizzy as he quakes underneath you. He watches, transfixed, as you swallow everything he gives you, his cock pulsing down your throat. He’s barely catching his breath when you pull away with a smile and open wide, sticking your tongue out to show him your empty mouth.

You’re such a temptress, he can hardly believe it.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says, his voice between a chuckle and a groan. “C’mere.”

He pulls you up, your naked body settling against his in the chair. It’s not lost on him that this bedroom used to feel so lonely. Now, it always feels like you’ve been here with him. You truly did give him a happy ending.

—-

There’s now a cat tree sitting in the living room, perfectly centered in front of the front window. You know Joel is a talented craftsman, but you’re shocked at how beautiful the cat tower has come out. The platforms are sanded smooth with rounded edges and a branch of the aspen wrapped in rope for scratching.

You place the knitted mat on top of the highest platform, with a few nails and a hammer, Joel secures it to the tower. You specifically chose the bright green yarn because it reminds you of Jefferson’s eyes.

“It’s perfect,” you smile as you stand back. “You might have a new job making everyone cat trees.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, wrapping his arm around you. “Don’t think I’ll be taking any special orders. This one’s just for Jefferson.”

“Don’t forget Sally’s tree,” you note.

“As if Ellie could ever let me forget.”

“Is it weird I’m so excited?” you ask, looking up at Joel.

“Not at all,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve been talking about this cat for weeks.”

You lean into him, imagining Jefferson perched on his new tower, surveying his domain through the front window. Soon, you’ll be making new memories with Joel inside your shared home. What once was a temporary place to stay while you healed a broken man is now a comfortable and happy home full of love, getting ready to welcome a new, tiny feline life.

—-

Jackson has their foreman back, with Joel’s return after almost nine months, the biggest town project is nearly done. His leg only throbs lightly as he stretches up on the stepladder and installs a new light over the library’s front entrance. It’s a good pain, one that he used to get after long hours of building and work in his younger days. Now, the aches appear sooner and take longer to subside, but he’s noticed that, with your healing hands and love, the pain doesn’t last as long.

“Hi,” he hears your voice behind him. He smiles as he turns, looking over his shoulder to see you standing there with a tote bag on your shoulder. Every ache he holds in his body already begins to melt away when he sees you.

"Hey, baby," he greets as he steps down the ladder, a little surprised to see you.

"Slow day. Dr. V told me to get out and start my vacation early," you say, stepping up onto the porch. “Figured you’d like some lunch. I grabbed some sandwiches from The Bison.”

“Nobody’s ever brought me lunch,” he muses, carefully settling next to you and stretching his leg out as you unwrap the sandwiches.

“Well, I’ve never brought anybody lunch, so this works well,” you say, handing him his sandwich. “Venison for you, tomato for me.”

He can’t stop looking at you… the slight smile on your lips as you chew, your eyes scanning the construction site, your skin shining under the bright sunlight. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, having suffered in so many ways before being able to build a happy life with you in Jackson.

“You’re staring,” you say, turning to him, snapping him out of his reverie.

“How was the clinic?" he asks, trying to make conversation instead of continuing to stare at you like a lovesick teenager.

“Quiet. Not a lot going on. Dr. V said he and Steven could handle the rounds for the rest of the day, and he assured me they’ll be just fine without me for the next few days.”

“S’nice of him.”

He can hardly wait, four full days of no work, just you, him, and Jefferson after you pick him up tomorrow. A vacation seems so foreign after living in survival mode for so long.

Joel looks up to see Dina approaching, her customary clipboard in hand.

“Framing in the back is done,” she reports. “Ran into some rot and had to replace more than we thought.” Joel nods. “Figured as much,” he responds. “Make sure everything is dry before they drywall.”

"Got it," she says, nodding before her face lights with a mischievous grin. "Hey, I won't tell the foreman if you leave early."

Joel raises an eyebrow. "I am the foreman.”

"I know, that's why I won't tell you that you left early," she says, already walking away.

Joel shakes his head, turning his head to find you watching him. "What?" he asks.

"I dunno, you're just so... authoritative, it's kinda hot.”

He chuckles, standing and offering his hand. "Come on, the boss said I can leave early."

You hold hands the whole way home, as you both walk down Main Street, Joel can feel the eyes of fellow residents on the two of you. Some send a friendly nod, some small smiles. It still surprises him sometimes how easily everyone has accepted him and you as a couple.

When you reach the porch, there’s a wagon sitting in front of the front door holding a small TV with a built-in VCR and a stack of VHS tapes beside it. On top lies a folded note.

“Enjoy your vacation and new addition. Jane and I figured you could use a little entertainment. Thanks for all that you do for us at the clinic.“ You read aloud with a wide smile. “It's from Dr. V."

Joel looks up to see small, happy tears welling in your eyes as you hold the note. It’s so obvious how special you are to everyone in this town. They value you.

"Guess we've got our evening planned," he whispers in your ear.

"Guess we do."

—-

You're nestled against Joel's side on the couch, both of you only in your robes, your legs tucked beneath you while his stretch out toward the coffee table. The color on the TV Dr. V gifted you might be a little washed out, and the sound occasionally warbles, but it still plays Raiders of the Lost Ark without a hitch.

“I loved this movie as a kid,” Joel quietly muses to you.

You look up at him, watching the lights of the movie flickering across his handsome face as he seems lost in thought.

"My daughter loved it too," he says quietly, after a moment.

Your heart constricts at the rare mention of Sarah. He so seldom speaks of her, keeping her close against his heart. You do the math in your head, realizing she would be in her mid-thirties now if she had lived. She might have had a career, maybe children of her own. Joel would have been a grandfather, living a normal life, with normal milestones.

But time isn't normal anymore, and that future for him was stolen that fateful night all those years ago. You mourn all of those lost memories right alongside him, because in a way, his grief is now yours.

You crawl into his lap, your chest meeting his, looking into his brown eyes, clouded with grief.

"You don't talk about her much. But I always love to hear more about her."

Joel stares into your eyes, and you see the pain he holds, always there, when he thinks of his Sarah.

"I know, baby," he says. He takes your hand, placing it against his temple, where the silver scar you’ve wondered about sits. Your finger brushes against it, feeling the slight raised edges of it, tracing the mark. “It was almost too much. I tried to… I tried.”

Your heart sinks, drowning in the sorrow he’s been holding. “Baby,” you whisper, tears beginning to fill your eyes.

“I thought I had lost everything when she left me. I didn’t think I had anything,” his voice cracks. “But I did… ‘n I do. Especially now.”

“Joel,” his name escapes with a sob.

“I know, baby, I know,” a tear sheds from his eye as you nestle your head into the crook of his neck. “Just because I don’t talk about her with you, doesn’t mean I don’t think about how much she’d love you.”

“Yeah?”

"Yeah. She was a good judge of character. Strong-willed ‘n compassionate, just like you."

“I know I would have loved her because she was a part of you. In fact, I already do love her.”

He holds you tighter, and you feel his body shudder with a quiet sob.

"She's always with you," you whisper. "In all the good things you do, in how you take care of people. In how you love Ellie.”

“In how I love you,” he adds.

You feel the weight of his love and grief right there on the couch as the credits begin to roll. You kiss him gently and reassuringly.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth.

“I love you, too.”

“What was her favorite thing in the world?”

“Butterflies,” he answers simply with a small smile.

An idea lights in your mind. “I could plant a garden for her right outside the front window. Butterfly bushes, lavender, marigolds.”

His eyes brighten, surprise and wonder lifting his lips. “You’d do that?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

He pulls you closer, arms tightening around you. “Sarah’s garden,” he quietly says.

“Sarah’s garden,” you repeat, relishing in the warmth of Joel and the love you hold for him and his daughter.

—-

“Mornin’,” Joel’s deep voice rumbles against your ear. The mattress dips behind you as he sits down, rousing you from your slumber. You groan, turning over and opening your eyes to find him holding his customary owl mug. “Coffee?”

You nod, stretching to sit up and take a drink. “Morning,” you respond. The sweetness of Joel sharing his precious coffee with you always overshadows the bitter taste of it.

"Big day for us," he says.

"It is," you say, returning his smile.

Today, Jefferson comes home.

You make eggs and biscuits for breakfast, sitting in front of the TV, watching a well-worn copy of Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead. Your eyes keep darting to the clock ticking on the mantle, waiting for 11 AM. By the time the movie credits roll, it’s almost time to leave to pick him up.

At precisely 10:45, Joel stands. "Might as well head over now," he says casually, as if he, too, has been waiting all morning.

You hold hands the whole way to Amy and Jacqui’s; it's a perfect day to bring Jefferson home. Your steps quicken as their house comes into view. Joel squeezes your hand once before you knock on their door.

Jacqui answers with a smile. "Right on time. Come in, come in."

You follow Jacqui through to the living room, where a small pen has been set up.

"Your parents are here," Jacqui calls, kneeling beside the pen to reach in and gently scoop up the black and white kitten to hand to you. You cradle Jefferson’s fluffy body against your chest. A tear sheds, rolling down your cheek before you can stop it.

"Hey, little guy," Joel says softly, leaning over you with a smile on his face. He carefully reaches his finger out, gently stroking Jefferson's head. It’s striking to see Joel's callused and work-creased hand against Jefferson's tiny, soft body.

"He likes you," you say, smiling up at Joel.

"Reckon he knows he's going to a good home."

Jacqui disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bag tied with twine. "Some food," she says, handing it to Joel. "The recipe's stapled on it—it's what we've been feeding them. You can transition him to whatever you prefer, but this'll help for the first few days."

Joel takes the bag with a nod of thanks.

"You're always welcome to bring Jefferson over to visit," she adds. "We're happy he and his sister will be neighbors. Ellie's coming to get her this evening."

"That's perfect," you say. “Thank you for everything, Jacqui."

You hold Jefferson against your chest and say your goodbyes before making your way back home. The walk almost feels different somehow—more meaningful. Jefferson against your heart and Joel's hand in yours as you now take home your shared commitment.

When you finally reach home, you settle on the couch with Jefferson, letting him explore the cushions, watching as he tests his new surroundings.

"What movie tonight?" Joel asks after a while, nodding toward the TV and the stack of tapes.

"Mm, I feel like Lord of the Rings."

"That's a long movie.”

"And we have a lot of time," you respond.

—-

Joel looks down, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as you sleep on the couch, only wearing his t-shirt, head resting on his lap, Jefferson curled on top of you. You barely made it halfway through the movie before you fell asleep. He had watched both of you drift off, unwilling to disturb the sight of you and Jefferson resting peacefully. The Fellowship of the Ring plays quietly in the background. He watches the soft glow of the TV cast across your peaceful face. Your hand rests atop Jefferson’s sleeping body, curled on top of you; the sight fills Joel with a feeling that a life he never thought possible is finally falling into place.

He sits and tries to memorize this moment… your cheek on his thigh, Jefferson on your chest, his hand against your shoulder brushing back and forth against your skin. He tells himself this will last forever, but there’s still a bitterness held inside him that refuses to believe it. There’s a small voice in the back of his head imagining him alone in this house, waiting for someone who isn’t coming back. The fear comes on him fast and hard. He has to look away from you, shutting his eyes and steadying his breath, fighting against the panic that’s rising in him.

He used to be good at losing things. At ignoring the all-encompassing pain and realization, then retreating. But he can’t do that anymore. He can’t even imagine it.

He reaches down, petting Jefferson, grounding himself to the feel of his soft fur and the short breaths the tiny kitten makes. He takes slow, even breaths, counting them out.

He opens his eyes, watching your even and slow breathing, the same soft patterned cadence he wakes up to every morning.

“Baby,” he gently says, “let’s go to bed.”

Your eyes flutter open, and you smile up at him. His heart stutters at the sight of you stretching before looking down at Jefferson. “Whoops, I fell asleep.”

“S’okay, just don’t want to sleep on the couch all night, it’ll kill my back.”

“I know,” you say, sitting up with a yawn, gently cradling a still sleeping Jefferson against your chest.

He stands, stretching the slight ache from his knees, shuffling up the stairs to the bedroom as you follow, kitten pressed against your collarbone.

In the bedroom, Joel watches you nestle Jefferson into a folded blanket at the foot of the bed. He doesn’t even stir, your touch is that gentle.

When you climb into bed beside him, burrowing yourself into him, he wraps his arm around you with a contented sigh.

This is his home. He tries to remind himself that he deserves this life as he drifts off to sleep.

—-

When you wake, your body warmed by the sunlight shining in through the window, Joel is already up, propped up against the headboard, hunched over a paperback with his reading glasses on. Jefferson lies on his lap, curled and sleeping.

“Mornin’ baby,” Joel greets, gravelly and still husking with sleep.

You scoot closer to him, resting your head on his thigh.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say. “Absolutely nothing.”

He smiles, setting the book on the nightstand. You reach over to pet Jefferson as Joel’s hand glides up your arm in a lazy, slow pattern. You two stay like that for a long time. Not saying anything at all, just cocooned together in the warmth of the sunlight and each other.

You used to count the hours until the next day, telling yourself that Joel had survived another 24 hours. Time used to be measured in the progression of his recovery, working through the fear and stress of healing him… now, time is measured differently. There are no hours to count, no days to make it through; now, time is counted in happy events, kisses, and lazy mornings in bed.

Jefferson stalks across the kitchen when you finally pull yourself out of bed. You fry the eggs and toast the bread, Joel sets the table, and feeds Jefferson.

Your feet rest on his lap as you sit across the table from him and enjoy your late breakfast, splitting a cup of coffee between the two of you.

After the dishes are cleaned, you spread out on the couch, Joel’s legs resting on the coffee table, your body stretched across the couch with your head against his chest. Joel’s choice of Spaceballs won over your choice of Bridget Jones’s Diary with a coin flip.

The blue text of the Spaceballs opening scroll begins as Jefferson investigates his cat tower, before climbing onto the top platform. He sits, observing the outside as you cuddle close against Joel, feeling the rumble of his quiet chuckles.

It’s all so cozy and domestic, a perfect, lazy day with your perfect man and kitten.

—-

You’re sitting on the floor playing with Jefferson, moving the makeshift cat toy you made across the hardwood. Jefferson chases it, his little paws trying to catch the tassel. He loves watching you interact with him, the softness and sweetness that seems to exude from you.

It’s already 4 PM, and the two of you have done nothing today except cuddle on the couch and watch movies. He can’t remember the last day he’s had that’s been as easy as this.

He sits on the couch, a smile plastered on his face as you urge Jefferson to chase the toy.

“So, I was thinking,” you say, “maybe tomorrow Maria and Tommy want to come over? Introduce Benji to the cat. We can ask Ellie if she wants to bring Sally over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll make dinner, we’ll have a little party.”

“I’d like that,” Joel says, genuinely meaning it. He’s never been a get-together hosting type, but there’s something to the idea of you and him welcoming those he’s closest to into the home you share.

You scoop Jefferson up from the floor and join Joel on the couch, settling beside him. He immediately wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you against him. It always amazes him how well you fit against him.

“What movie tonight?” you ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Hm, let's go classic. Alien?"

"Oh god," you sigh. "I haven't seen it. I heard it's terrifying."

"Mm, it is. But don't worry," he whispers, "I'll protect you."

You giggle. "Aww, my hero.”

His heart always swells at the sound of your joy.

—-

So, everyone was right, Alien is terrifying. You’re curled up on the couch, hiding your face against Joel’s body, practically sitting in his lap. Jefferson sleeps peacefully on the back of the couch, completely oblivious to the terror on the screen.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, burying your face against his shoulder.

He chuckles, pulling you into his lap, cocooning you between his broad chest and strong arms.

"I got you, baby," he says, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

There’s a quieter moment when the ship crew gathers for dinner, and you decide now to muster the courage and watch. "I know I've seen far scarier literally in real life. I know that, but oh my god, I can't deal with this."

You force yourself to watch, determined to make it through the film, but then Kane starts convulsing on the table and an alien bursts from his chest.

"Nope!" you scream, turning to nuzzle your face against Joel's strong, warm chest.

You choose instead to just watch Joel watch the movie, a far more entertaining option for you.

He catches you ogling him. "Enjoying the movie?" he asks.

"Very much," you joke. "This might just be my favorite movie. A very handsome movie, in fact."

You stay in his arms, watching him watch the movie as the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, and his warmth lulls you to sleep.

“Baby,” Joel whispers. You open your eyes to find him looking down at you. “You can’t even make it through a full movie at night, can you?” he teases as you sit up.

You stretch. “You’re too comfortable.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, nodding towards the back of the couch. “Jefferson didn’t make it either.”

You both get up, Joel picks up Jefferson, and the three of you head to bed, another perfect day of your vacation coming to a close.

—-

A/N: My taglist has grown too large. Please follow @whocaresposted and turn on notifications to be alerted about new chapters!

My perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon

Guys... we almost got mustard in this chapter.

#wayward-dreamer reads #joel miller fanfiction #fic rec

410 notes · View notes

wayward-dreamer · 8 days ago

Text

I swear this series is my entire personality now and I have no shame in that. I literally don’t even know what to say anymore tbh. Like of course I loved it, and I’m glad we got to see their relationship progress in this way because it was definitely needed for them. They’re both growing and that’s only going to make them stronger in the end, and I’m just so excited to see what else is coming.

If you’re not already reading this series, then do yourselves a favor and get on it RIGHT NOW. Life admin be damned, the healing properties of Healed are more important 💕

Chapter 12: Walls

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Doctor Female Reader Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Ellie nods, a pensive look across her face, and she looks up at the sky, thinking. “He’s different now. Lighter. Like, he’s not carrying something heavy all the time. I used to think he’d never recover from losing Sar—his daughter. And then with everything that happened with me. But now he like… smiles.” Chapter Warnings: smut, kitchen table sex, joel miller kissing you while he cooks because i can't get that scene from superman outta my head, angst, an argument, joel miller stop needing to control people challenge, hints of a panic attack Words: 6,200

A/N: Whoooooaaaa-oooaaaa. I really struggled with this chapter until it all kinda clicked into place. Uh. Enjoy the angst. It's important. People build walls around themselves for different reasons, and sometimes they need to be broken down with tense conversations, love, and understanding... or sometimes Joel wants control and he can't get it.

Healed Masterlist | Healed Playlist | Healed, The Video Edit | AO3

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

—-

You settle into a familiar and comfortable routine. A simple life such as this, mostly free from fear or danger, was unheard of until you found Jackson. Happiness and love begin and end your days, all thanks to Joel.

Now, you wake up to the sound of his boots against the hardwood floor and the smell of your peppermint tea that he brews for you every morning. He’s always the first up now, rousing you with gentle hands and a low “C’mon baby, you gotta get up. I’m headin’ to work.”

Yes, work. Joel Miller, Jackson’s resident contractor know-it-all, is back at work, helping out on the new houses being renovated near the edge of the walls. It’s only been a week, and he only works for a few hours, nothing too difficult, nothing too strenuous, but still, quite an accomplishment for the man who couldn’t walk just eight months ago. You’re proud of him, and you’re sure he’s proud of himself, his slight, confident smile telling you he’s had a good day at work whenever you ask him.

Thanks to a slow day at the clinic, you get home earlier than expected. Joel isn’t on the porch or inside. You’re confused until you hear the high-pitched squeak of Ellie’s laughter in the backyard. You walk out the back door, squinting from the bright August sun beating down. There’s a half-built structure made out of a thick aspen branch with a flat, wooden platform attached to its side that Joel’s currently putting together.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Shit!” Ellie shouts, trying to block the mystery wooden creation.

Joel turns his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re home early.”

“I am,” you say, stepping forward and arching an eyebrow at him. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It is,” Ellie says.

“Ellie,” Joel barks.

“Hey, man, you wanted to surprise her.”

“Surprise me? With what?” you respond, folding your arms over your chest.

“A cat tower,” Joel says, he and Ellie stepping aside. “S’not done yet, but I figured, Jefferson would like it.”

You smile at the shy way he says Jefferson’s name, the way he’s already been planning for the kitten you’ll be bringing home next week.

“Really?” you ask.

“Just have to wrap some twine around the scratching post, then install the joist hangers for the second platform. The base and platform should probably get a chamfer edge for safety in case he bumps into it too hard, and I’ll probably add a cross bracing for some extra suppor—” he glances over at you, a hint of redness in his cheeks when he realizes you have zero clue what he’s saying. “It’s… not done yet, but it will be soon.”

“And then he gets to build another for Jefferson’s sister,” Ellie says, a wide smile lifting her lips. “My kitten, Sally fuckin’ Ride.”

“Ellie,” Joel sighs.

“What? That’s her name,” she responds, shaking her head.

“It’s a great name,” you say. “I love that Jefferson and Sally will get to be neighbors.”

Ellie beams with pride. “Me too. So, ya’ know, since the cat tower is out of its bag, you no longer need my help. I’m going inside out of this heat,” she says, already moving to her front door before Joel even answers.

“Go ahead,” Joel says. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime,” she yells back, before she disappears behind her door.

You step closer to what Joel and Ellie have accomplished so far, running your hand along the smooth wood of the platform, imagining a little black and white cat perched on it, looking out the front window.

“It’s beautiful,” you say.

“Really wanted to surprise you with it once it’s done,” he sighs.

“Mm, but now that I know you’re making it, I can start on a small mat for the top. That way it’ll be soft for him.”

Joel wraps his arm around you; he smells of sawdust and sweat, and you fight the urge to nuzzle your head against his chest.

“I like that,” he says, kissing the top of your head before he goes back to working.

You watch him, sanding the platform edges smoother, his large hands working delicately. You’re beginning to see the hint of the old Joel, the Joel you never knew. He’s stronger, more confident, and always focused on the task at hand. He steps back, thumb pressed at his jawline as he studies his work.

“Done for the day?” you ask.

“I could be,” he says, looking over at you. “Why?”

“Because I want a shower,” you say, holding out your hand to him, “and you know I just hate showering alone.”

The sandpaper drops out of Joel’s hand as he stalks towards you, practically pushing you inside and up the steps.

—-

The clatter of plates, the smell of pancakes and bacon, and a cacophony of conversations echoing off the dark wood walls. An almost too-faded memory of his life before. There was once a time when Joel was sitting across a table from his little girl after a soccer game, her jersey speckled with powdered sugar from her Belgian waffle, while he enjoyed the one splurge he’d allow himself, a plate of steak and eggs with extra hash browns and a black coffee.

Now, he sits across from you, clad in one of his flannels, a smile on your pretty face, waiting for your first meal out together… breakfast at the Tipsy Bison. He wasn’t sure if you two were even going to make it in time, especially after you woke up and climbed on top of him this morning. “We’re gonna miss breakfast ‘n we already slept in,” he lazily reasoned, not attempting to stop you from pulling his pants down.

“Can’t believe we almost missed this,” you muse with a smile on your face. He can tell you’re excited by the concept, having someone else tend to both of you, and a glimpse of life before. A restaurant is unheard of in the apocalypse, but Jackson allows such extraordinary things to happen.

Seth sets your plates down with a curt nod and a tiny bottle of syrup, the true luxury of Jackson. Joel acquiesces, with a serious look. That’s the thing about living in a town: he might have to work with a guy, but it doesn’t mean he has to like him.

Seth turns to you, giving you a soft smile Joel’s never seen across his face, thanking you for taking good care of his grandson when he was sick. You’re so well-liked by everyone, even grumpy assholes like Seth seem to soften when they’re around you.

He watches you pour the syrup over your pancakes, slow and methodical, coating the fluffy pancakes in golden syrup. He can’t hide his wide smile.

“What?” you ask, picking up your fork, poised to take a first bite.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Just happy.”

You grin. “Me too.”

You give him your slices of bacon, and he foregoes syrup on his pancakes for you to have more. Every so often, you nudge his ankle under the table. This might just be the best plate of pancakes and eggs he’s ever had.

When you’re done, and weaving your way through the tables to leave, you grab his hand in the middle of the crowd. It’s an almost sense of pride he gets when you’re seen with him. Joel’s never been much of a showoff, but there’s something about being in public with your hand in his, and the way people look when they realize that you’re with him.

—-

You’re sitting outside on the back porch, enjoying the cool evening air as you knit Jefferson’s mat for his cat tree, when the familiar slam of Ellie’s door catches your attention. It’s never done in anger or frustration, just… in a “that’s how Ellie shuts doors” way.

“Hey,” she greets, walking over.

“Hey you,” you say, smiling. “Where you headed?”

“Headed to Dina’s for the night.”

“Oh,” you respond, acting nonchalant at the divulgence of Ellie and Dina’s obvious relationship. “That sounds nice. I hope you have a good time.”

“Thanks,” she says, before thinking for a bit. “Does it ever surprise you?”

“Hm?”

“Does it ever surprise you that you found Joel?” she asks, leaning against the stair railing. “That you kinda just showed up one day and then totally saved a dude’s life?”

“Whoa, that’s deep.”

“I know, sorry, just, I don’t know, like, sometimes I think about how easily things could've gone differently. Like, what if you hadn't been here when he got hurt? What if you hadn't come to Jackson at all?"

You smile at Ellie, understanding her thoughts. You think about it all the time, too.

“In this world, we can ask to understand a lot of what-ifs. I like to think that if it’s supposed to happen, it’ll find a way to happen.”

“Yeah?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Look at you and Joel. You also found each other, right?"

She nods, a pensive look across her face, and she looks up at the sky, thinking. “He’s different now. Lighter. Like, he’s not carrying something heavy all the time. I used to think he’d never recover from losing Sar—his daughter. And then with everything that happened with me. But now he like… smiles.”

You nod, understanding the overwhelming weight of what she’s sharing. You place your knitting needles in your lap. “Joel hardly mentions her. Tommy told me about her in the early days. He’d say her name while dreaming a lot.”

Ellie still looks skywards, almost lost in her thoughts. “He was… different before. Like so different. Kind of an asshole.”

“Noooo,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No, but really. He was…yikes. I think you’ve changed him, and I feel like… I should thank you for that.”

You swallow the lump of emotion in your throat. Ellie, the girl you know Joel would move mountains for, is thanking you.

"You don't need to thank me. I'm the lucky one."

“He used to be so closed off and almost miserable all the time. Now he's building cat towers and smiling and shit. It’s really nice to see."

“I’m sure it is,” you smile.

“I should go. Dina’s waiting.”

“Of course, Ellie, have fun.”

When you head back inside, Joel is sitting at the kitchen table, dicing tomatoes for dinner. The familiar site of domesticity that you share with him makes your heart feel full.

“Took you a while,” he says.

“Ellie was leaving to head to Dina’s for the night, I was talking to her for a bit.”

“Oh? ‘Bout what?”

“Hmm,” you ponder, walking towards him. “She was asking me if it ever surprises me how we met…”

“What’d you tell her?” he asks, setting the knife down and scooting his chair back from the table.

“That some things are meant to happen,” you respond, stepping in between his legs. “She then told me she thinks you’re different now. Lighter.”

“Feel different,” he responds, wrapping his arms around you, resting his chin on your stomach to look up at you.

You lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. “And she thanked me for that.”

“You did change me, baby,” he says, staring up at you, with those deep, brown eyes you love so much. “You saved me.”

The sky outside is turning golden as the sun begins to set behind the mountains. Joel looks even more bronzed and gorgeous in this light. Your handsome Joel, the man who has given you his heart… the same heart you restarted.

—-

Joel’s found a new love in cooking for you; he’s no gourmet chef, but he handles the basics well. Most of all, he can tell you love watching him.

Tonight, he's making spaghetti while you sit on the countertop, your legs dangling right next to where he stirs the sauce on the stove.

"How do you always know when I'm craving pasta?" you ask.

He turns towards you, holding the spoon. "I always know you're craving pasta."

"I guess you know me well, don't you?"

He nods with a "Hmm" before moving to stand between your legs, crowding you against the cupboard. "Guess," he kisses you, "I," another kiss, "do," and a third. He leans into this one, kissing you harder, his tongue parting your lips, hands bracketing your waist, running trails up and down your body. Your hands find the dark waves of his hair, the stubble of his jaw, and the lines of his neck as he pushes you against the cupboard.

God, he loves kissing you, feeling your soft lips against his, hearing your breathing tick up when his tongue parts your lips.

"The sauce," you say, pulling away.

"Mm, I got it," he responds, chasing your lips, reaching for the spoon to stir without looking at the pot as he kisses you.

The sauce quietly simmers on the stove, and he breathes in the scent of garlic and tomatoes, mixing with the sweet scent of you, still stirring the pot with one hand as his other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress up.

“Joel,” you try to protest. “Dinner.”

“You’re distracting me, you know that?” he asks, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

He can’t help it. All he really wants is you. He chucks the spoon against the spoon rest before he wraps his arms around you, sinking both palms into the soft curve of your ass and pulls you forward, until you’re flush with him.

You moan when he kisses his way down your neck, your legs wrapping around his hips, laughing as he lifts you from the counter and carries you a few clumsy steps to the kitchen table, pride making him feel stronger that he’s now able to hold you like this. He sets you down on the table gently, admiring the sight of you splayed out, already looking slightly disheveled, your lips parted and pupils wide as you stare up at him.

He leans forward, kissing you again, moving your dress higher up your thighs, his fingers finding you already wet and warm for him. A cocky grin lifts his lips as he takes your underwear off, pulling them down to your ankles before he tosses them to the side.

He grips your ankles, pulling your legs open and pressing your knees back to your chest so he can stare down at your pretty pussy, all wet and ready for him. He’s almost in awe at the sight, you glistening for him on his kitchen table.

The temptation is too much, he bends, licking a slow and greedy stripe up your slit, and you instantly respond to him, arching into him, a desperate sound leaving your lips. He groans in appreciation, sucking your clit before pressing his tongue against it.

“Joooel, the sauce.”

He huffs a laugh against your sensitive skin before he rises, quickly walking to the stove to stir it and flicks the burner off. He stalks back towards you, undoing his jeans and pulling his cock out, already hard and flushed, ready to feel your wet pussy around it. He strokes it once, then twice, staring down at you splayed out on the table for him. You look up at him, lifting your legs into the air without a word. He knows you’re needy to feel him.

He lines himself up at your entrance, pressing the head of him against your soaked hole before he shoves in. Quick and hungry, the table creaking under his power, he has finally found again. He fucks you hard, pace unrelenting. He’s stronger than before, his leg allowing him now to thrust into you like he’s wanted to, to claim you and make you scream his name like you’re doing right now, in between your desperate pleas for him to fuck you harder.

His sweat beads, cheeks flushed, neck strained as he stares down at you, your hands gripping the edges of the table, your face contorted in pleasure when he moves a finger down to flick and press against your clit, edging you towards your orgasm.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “I love your pussy, baby, I love you so fucking much.”

Your cunt clenches and squeezes his cock hard as you orgasm for him, making his pace falter as you flutter around his cock, screaming his name, your voice echoing across the kitchen.

He’s close, so close, but it’s when you prop yourself up on your elbows, look into his eyes, and command “Cum for me, Joel, cum in my pussy,” he loses it. Shouting your name and pulsing inside you, spilling himself deep before collapsing on you, folding over your body and planting lazy, reverent kisses along your chest and collarbone. You stroke the back of his head, laughing breathlessly.

“You think the sauce is okay?” you ask, still slightly out of breath.

Joel laughs. “M’sure it’s fine.”

“Even if it’s not, I’m so hungry I don’t care.”

—-

You’re only a couple of hours away from heading home for the day when the call comes in.

“Clinic. Come in. Clinic.” Amy’s voice echoes across the small, now empty waiting room.

Dr. V rushes to the radio that sits on the front desk, always present, always waiting for a call.

"This is clinic.”

“Bonnie fell down a ravine outside Elk Creek. Greg can’t get her out. Needs stabilizing.”

Dr. V nods, looking over at you as you set a patient file down. “How many alarms?” he asks.

“Greg says single. He doesn’t want to move her without help; he thinks she may have broken something. Transport is already preparing.”

You don’t even wait for Dr. V to ask you to go; you’re already grabbing the emergency kit without thinking.

You run down Main Street, passing the same spot you first saw Joel’s lifeless body, reminding yourself that just like you healed Joel, you now have all of Jackson depending on you, whether they’re inside or outside the walls. This is what you do: you help, you heal, you revive. This has always been your purpose.

You spot Jesse loading a board into the back of the idling transport truck, the same one you rode in on all those months ago before you found your purpose here, before you knew Joel, before you were known and respected as one of Jackson’s doctors.

“You’re going?” Jesse asks.

“Steven’s in surgery and there’s no way I want Dr. V climbing down anything.”

“Understood,” he says, opening the door for you. “James is driving, we’ll escort you there.”

You slide into the front seat, you can’t even remember the last time you were in an actual car interior. It’s worn, ripped leather patched up with duct tape and fabric scraps, but the truck works, a true luxury in the apocalypse.

The rumble of the engine shocks you slightly as James puts it into gear and pulls forward. He glances over at you and nods. You just delivered his first baby only a couple of weeks ago, and now he’s already out, preparing to help your fellow citizens. This is why you do what you do.

The gates open, and the three of you drive through the barriers that keep you and everyone safe.

Once the walls begin to disappear in the rearview mirror, you realize what you’ve just done. You didn’t even think twice, you just volunteered to leave the safety of Jackson’s walls again, without even telling Joel.

“How far?” you ask.

“About a half hour out,” James answers.

You nod, clutching your bag tightly, the anxiety already beginning to get harder and harder to silence the farther you get from Jackson.

—-

It’s late. Too late. The sun’s already sitting low behind the mountains, and you’re not home yet. Joel tries to be patient, tries to remind himself that you’re safe and probably just held back due to something mundane like an emergency appendectomy. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And yet, he still worries. His foot taps against the worn wood of the porch. He moved out here shortly after he realized you were late, hoping to get a glimpse of you as soon as you turned down the road. Every bit of movement catches his eye, leaving him constantly disappointed.

He’s still waiting for you, almost an hour after he stepped out here. Unease settles in his heart and body, he picks up his cane and stands, heading towards the clinic. He turns the corner from his street when he spots Maria hurriedly walking down the road.

“Joel!” she shouts as she jogs over. “I was just heading to see you. Listen, there was an accident outside. They sent a transport a couple of hours ago.”

His heart drops. He already knows what happened.

“She’s out there?” he growls.

“She is. She volunteered.”

Of course, you went. Of course, you would volunteer without a second thought.

“You couldn’t tell me earlier?” he bites.

“I just found out. I just got done helping with sowing all of the new seeds for the fall harvest. I’m only now going to pick up my child, with Tommy being out on patrol. Don’t pull that on me, Joel.”

Maria’s words stop him from getting angrier, reminding him that everyone here in Jackson has responsibilities.

“When are they coming back?” he asks.

“Should be soon. Jesse and James are with her. It’s Elk Creek, it’s one of the safer routes.”

He nods, though the storm inside him is still raging. Jesse and James are some of the best patrollers, but they’re still not him. But of course, now, he’s a crippled man, leaning on his cane in the middle of the road, worried sick about you. He hates feeling so powerless.

“I’m goin’ to wait for her.”

Maria nods, understanding the fear he must feel. "I’m sure she’s fine, Joel, she’s capable.”

He doesn’t respond; he just walks away, his cane rapping against the broken, cracked cement harder with each step he takes. He’s transported right back to that moment he waited those few weeks ago, worried to all hell about you. He’s almost mad you put him back in this situation. There’s a tightness in his chest, a familiar feeling he’s been good at tamping out, but now, as he reaches the imposing gate, that tightness constricts his heart even harder.

“Any word?" Joel calls up to the guards at the watchtower.

"Transport's about ten minutes out. Radio says everyone's fine."

Everyone's fine. He should be relieved, but the fear that today could have ended much more tragically overwhelms him.

He feels dizzy, his heart thudding against his chest in the worst way, his vision almost blurring around the edges. He tries to breathe deeply, tries to settle the unease that feels like it’s creeping through his brain and heart. He breathes, needing to rest his body against something solid, backing up until it rests against the thick stumps that create Jackson’s walls. He stands there, blinking the fear and anxiety out of his eyes and brain. And then, he hears the guard shout.

“Gates opening!”

Joel’s head snaps up. He can hear the truck’s engine approach as the gates open and it rolls through. You’re sitting in the back with Jesse, kneeling over somebody lying on a bodyboard, your face serious as you check over their vitals.

Joel hurries over, saying your name, a bit of anger escaping with desperation.

But you don’t hear him. You’re speaking with Jesse, reminding him how to pick up the transport board.

He says your name again, this time a bit louder. You look over, surprised to find him there.

“Joel?”

“You didn’t come home an-and I was worr—”

“Joel, I… I have to take care of Bonnie, she fell pretty bad, I’ve gotta get her to the clinic.”

He’s surprised by the stern professional voice you use on him. Speaking to him like he’s a patient, not his.

“Right,” he nods. “Can I help with anything?”

“No. I need Steven,” you respond. His heart drops at your words. “They’re grabbing him now.” You jump down from the truck after asking Bonnie if she’s okay. “Joel, I need you to move. We’re taking her now. I’ll… see you after she’s stabilized.”

He reaches for you, but you don’t even look at him; you just tell him goodbye and begin your journey to the clinic, jogging alongside Greg, as James and Jesse transport Bonnie on top of the board.

He stands there, watching as you quickly disappear from his view. This is your specialty, this is what brought you into his life, and yet he can’t help but feel left behind.

—-

You’re exhausted, it’s almost midnight by the time you get Bonnie stabilized and head home.

Joel’s asleep in the recliner when you walk in. Even as he sleeps, there’s something still so commanding about him—his broad shoulders filling the chair, his strong jaw, the seemingly permanent furrow between his brows.

You quietly slip off your boots and clothes, wanting to get rid of any sign of the stressful day you just had, and crawl into Joel’s lap, only clad in your bra and underwear. He stirs, his body tightening before he realizes you’re the new weight on top of him. He lifts his arms, wrapping them around you, and breathes you in.

“You’re back,” he says.

“I am,” you respond, resting your head against his chest.

“Why’d you go?” “Because somebody needed help and I could help them,” you answer simply.

“Yes, but it was outside the walls again.”

You pull away, looking into his eyes. “Because somebody needed help and I could help them,” you repeat, firm this time. “And they just so happened to be outside.”

His jaw ticks, and you can see the conflict warring across him. Understanding your purpose, quarreling with his fear. His protectiveness wrestling with your independence. You know he’s proud of what you do and who you are, but you can still see the fear he holds.

"But what happens if something happens to you?"

"Then something happens, Joel. This world is cruel, but if I can do something, anything to make it a little better and easier for someone, then I will. You should know that more than anyone else."

“I know,” he says quietly, his hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth against your skin. “I know that’s who you are. I just… get,” he sighs, his chest rising as he takes a deep breath in, “I get scared.”

“I know you do,” you whisper, covering his hand with yours. “But Joel, this is who I am. This is important. This is what I do. I can’t just… turn that off because it might be dangerous. You used to patrol, right?”

“I did, and I was attacked while on patrol, out there.” You can feel his whole body tense beneath yours. “If anything were to happen to yo—”

“This world is unpredictable; every single day, something awful could happen. I could walk out that door tomorrow and never come back. But I can’t live my life in the fear of what-ifs… and you can’t either.”

“I know you’re right. I know that. But when Maria told me you were out there again…” He swallows hard, his eyes beginning to well with tears, an almost sob leaving his throat. “I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever. I can’t have you going past the gates, I can’t deal with it.” You pull even farther away, your back straightening at his request. “That’s not happening. We’re already discussing our next trip out to collect plants, and the next time a call comes in for help, I will be answering it.” Your voice rises. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“What? Why? I should be able to, if you’re mine.”

You scoff at the implication, rising off his lap, looming over him as he leans forward in the recliner. “I’m not your possession. I’m not something you can control. If you’re scared, you’re scared, but you can’t own me and my decisions.” You feel ridiculous, taking such an authoritative stance in only your bra and panties.

“That’s… not what I meant,” he says, his hand coming up to nervously tousle his hair.

“Okay. So what did you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t think I can handle this happening again. Knowing I can’t help protect you, I can’t be there with you.”

Your heart drops at the shame in his voice, but anger still holds you. “I know, I know, but this is my job. This is my purpose; you can’t take it away from me, you can’t take it from everyone here. I need you to understand that helping people is who I am. You will not stop me from that.”

There’s a flash of anger that sets his face in hard lines, his jaw settling in that stubborn way you can easily recognize. He stands abruptly, forcing you to take a step back.

“So you’re just going to throw yourself into danger for one person outside the gates? People in here need you, I need you. I can’t have you going out there. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

You throw your hands up in frustration at the audacity of him. “This isn’t about you, Joel! I refuse to abandon what I’ve been doing for almost my whole life because you’re scared.”

"Scared? You think this is just about being scared? This is about you wanting to go out there, where something terrible can happen to you at any moment."

"I've survived out there just fine before I met you, and I can handle myself now."

"Right. Just like how you handled yourself with the infected. The one that could’ve gotten to you if Tommy hadn’t—”

Your heart drops. “You don’t get to throw that in my face. That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is you putting yourself in danger and expecting me to just sit here and be okay with it.”

"I'm not asking you to be okay with it. I'm asking you to respect my choices!"

Hot, angry tears well in your eyes. How quickly he’s gone from your sweet, worried Joel to now a bitter, angry Joel you can hardly recognize.

He shakes his head. "I can't do that. Not with this. Not when your 'choice' could get you killed."

"So what am I supposed to do? Just stay inside these walls forever? Give up helping people because Joel Miller can't handle the thought of me being out of his sight? That's bullshit, Joel, and you know it."

"Watch your tone," he warns.

"Or what? You’ll try to control me, because you’re too afraid to lose me?”

His face goes pale. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

“Yes, I do. You're so afraid of losing that you'd rather control me than let me be who I am!"

It’s silent. Joel stands, now looming over you, his eyes dark and roaming across your face. It’s deafening; the tenseness and anger in the air is stifling.

"I'm trying to protect you," he finally says, a slight growl in his voice. His accent dripping with anger.

"No, you're trying to possess me," you spit back. "And I won't let you."

You turn away, grabbing your clothes from the floor and storm upstairs. You’re seconds from falling apart.

You shut yourself in the bathroom next to your old room, turning the shower on and stepping in. The hot water burns your skin, but you want to feel it, want it to wash away all of the hurt and frustration, the fury and pain that’s coursing through your body. This is the first time you’ve showered without Joel in over a month, but right now, your ire towards him sits just as hot as the water. You’re so fucking tired and hurt. Just because Joel loves you does not give him any excuse to try to keep you inside these gates.

You remember the relief washing over Bonnie’s scared face when you told her she was going to be okay, as you checked over her battered body. The way her voice caught as she thanked you. The sight of her husband of twenty years, grabbing her hand with tears in his eyes, once you got her moved to a bed in the hospital, thanking you for all that you do, for getting her back to him safe. You’d do it all over again.

When you get out of the shower, you don’t cross the hall to Joel’s room; you choose your old room, the bed you only spent a few weeks in before Joel’s bed became yours. The sheets feel too cold and unfamiliar, but you try to make the best of it.

You used to never have any trouble falling asleep in here before. You try to will yourself asleep, staring at the blank, white wall. Your body is tired, but your mind won’t stop reeling, caught in a loop of anger and hurt.

The sound of Joel’s uneven steps on the stairs breaks the swirl of your thoughts. You hold your breath, listening as he pauses in his doorway, before you hear his bedroom door close.

You exhale, feeling the confusing mix of relief and disappointment. What did you expect? That he’d come to apologize? That suddenly he’d understand your need to help others, even if it puts you in danger?

Time passes in silence, you try to sleep, wishing it’d be morning already. You’re just about to nod off, finally, when you hear Joel’s door open. The sound of his footsteps approaching makes your heart race. He stops, hesitating outside your door before it slowly creaks open.

You don’t turn, you keep your back to him, willing your body not to tense as much as it does as you hear him walk to the bed. The mattress dips behind you as he slowly lies down next to you. You don’t move or acknowledge him, not even when he rests his arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest, his shaky sigh breathing out against your hair.

“M’sorry,” he whispers. “I finally have someone, finally have a future, and I can’t dare to imagine you not in m’life.”

He sounds so broken and so forlorn. You turn to face him, gone is the anger from earlier, it’s replaced by worry, etching the lines of his face deeper. Vulnerable and broken, but still your handsome Joel.

It hits you then. This isn’t just him trying to control you—this is Joel terrified of losing the future he never thought he’d have again.

“Joel,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to touch his face.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them, staring into your eyes. "I know I can't keep you from being who you are. And I don't want to. It's just the thought of losing you… I wouldn’t survive it.”

You press your hand firmer against his warm skin, feeling the rough stubble beneath, tracing the lines of worry etched there.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise”

"You can't promise that," he says, his voice barely audible. "Nobody can."

You move closer, pressing your forehead against his. "No, I can't. But I can promise to be careful. I can promise to always come back to you if I can."

His arms tighten around you. “I just… I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” you say, leaving a soft kiss against his lips. “If you lose me, I lose you, and I can’t have that either.”

“Was thinking maybe we could turn this room into an office for you, so you have a place for plants during the winter. I can make you a desk ‘n maybe figure out some grow lights?”

“But where will I sleep when I’m mad at you?” you ask, nuzzling into his chest.

“Next to me, in our bed.” His arms tighten around you, and you sigh, still needing to make sure the man you love is okay with you being who you need to be.

"Joel," you whisper against his skin. "I need to know you understand. I can't have this fight with you every time I need to go outside.”

“I’ll try… try to be better about it. Ain’t promisin’ I won’t worry, but I’ll try not to stop you.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“M’sorry I get so—”

“You?”

He chuckles, the sounds making you smile as his chest vibrates under you.

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay,” you say, angling your head up to kiss him. “I love you even when you’re stubborn to all hell.”

“And I love you too. More than anything, that’s why you always need to come back to me.”

“I will,” you say against his lips before you settle against him, quickly falling asleep as he holds you close.

—-

A/N: My taglist has grown too large. Please follow @whocaresposted and turn on notifications to be alerted about new chapters!

My perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon

#wayward-dreamer reads #joel miller fanfiction #fic rec

605 notes · View notes