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heartpascal · 2 months

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hoping there’s somewhere to go

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader + tommy miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you try to navigate life after the rejection of the only family you’d ever had (part two of weight too heavy to hold alone)

▹— a/n: the song too much time in my house alone by leith ross inspired this <3 longer A/N at the end!

▹— warnings: angst (as always), isolation, and then self isolation, mention of christmas time but it’s not christmas, a winter’s dinner that isn’t christmas dinner, fears being proven correct, very little self worth, it has been a long while since i have written/posted/needed to put warnings so let me know if something is missing!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro) — please let me know if you want to be added/removed

MASTERLIST

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Jackson is cold in winter.

And it’s not just because of the weather.

There’s winter festivities, holidays that you had never really had any experience with. And because of the weather, patrols were undertaken by smaller groups, leaving crowds of people wandering the streets, or trying to find work within the small community. So, not only was it cold and miserable, but it was about ten times as crowded in the communal spaces, with everybody packing into every space possible in order to preserve their warmth.

That’s not even the worst part — there’s the whole focus on family, or whatever a person in the apocalypse might have that’s close enough to it.

Holidays bring people together, Tommy had told you once, about a year ago. It wasn’t long after you had first arrived in Jackson, traipsing through the gate alone, aside from the patrollers who escorted you there.

The thing was, though, that you didn’t have people.

And it wasn’t as if you were wanting them! That definitely wasn’t the case — you couldn’t bear getting close to anybody, after what had happened last time — but you couldn’t help the more prominent feeling of isolation. You knew you weren’t alone in your feelings, after all, there were plenty of Jackson residents who had nobody, or resented the holiday season for one reason or another, but you felt alone.

You’re allowed to feel bitter about it, even if you do want to stay that way. It’s not like you had always felt this way, there was a time when you had thought yourself close to having a family — whatever the hell that was. In spring, if somebody had told you that you might feel this way, you might have disbelieved them, might have had faith in Joel and Ellie, despite your reservations. But then everything there had fallen apart, and you were left like this.

Living on your own, halfway across town, closer to Tommy, but further away than ever.

It was like that gaping hole in your chest had reopened with a vengeance, sucking any amount of trust or affection you had for the man into a void where it couldn’t be found. If Tommy hadn’t stuck you with Joel and Ellie, you might not be feeling like this — feeling so cold, and alone, and frozen despite the world moving around you. If he had just minded his business, or even, maybe, if he had just looked after you himself, rather than passing you off as nothing more than a chore, you could’ve been something at least close to happy.

Instead, you’re here. Making the short trip back from the school he had forced you to start going to, heading back to the little space you were supposed to call home. It wasn’t home, though. You had never occupied a space that had felt anything even close to that before, other than Joel’s. You’re pretty sure you’ll never live anywhere like that again.

You’ll probably live here, in the shitty garage that Tommy had someone convert for you, for the rest of your life. Either that, or until they finally have enough of you, and kick you out. Whichever came first.

Really, you should be used to being on your own. To having to do everything yourself, be responsible for every aspect of your own life, but strangely, after Joel’s, you find it hard to go back to that. Balancing things has never been your strong suit, and this only goes to prove that. And it’s aggravating, feeling as though something within you had changed, feeling as though you’re no longer capable, when you had spent your whole life looking after yourself.

Feeling like this has had you thinking some incredibly stupid things, your mind at one point trying to convince you that the only way to prove that you were capable, was to go back out into the big open world. Luckily for you, your survival instincts are stronger than that, and you’re able to remind yourself that Jackson is the best possible place for you, regardless of whatever thoughts and feelings you were having.

Besides, you wouldn’t want to give any of them — them being Joel, Tommy and Ellie — the satisfaction of your leaving. If they wanted you gone, they’d have to tell you as much, this time.

It was clear to you now, that they hadn’t wanted you there in the first place. And given the distance between you and Ellie since Joel had gotten rid of you, you gathered that, despite what you believed to be a close bond, she had never wanted you around either. She seemed happy enough, gallivanting around the town with her few friends, friends she had never even bothered to introduce you to. At least that meant you weren’t missing anything. Maybe she had actually done you a favour. Although given the way she avoided your gaze like her life depended on it, every time you happened across her, you somehow doubted that.

You’re not sure which loss was worse. Despite how close you had grown to Joel, how attached you had become, Ellie was the first person your age who you had ever trusted. You had told her things that you had never spoken aloud to anyone before. And now, you were left with a constant weight of regret, of dread, in the pit of your stomach.

Selfishly, you wanted Ellie to be angry at Joel for getting rid of you. You wanted her to fight for you, wanted her to remain in your corner when everybody else opposed you. What you really wanted, though, was for somebody to choose you. You wanted to feel important to somebody.

Though, now, you think you’ve outgrown that childish desire. You don’t want anyone around you, anymore.

Not even Tommy.

“Kid, would you just open the damn door?” Tommy asked, speaking to the plain face of your front door. He had knocked three times before opening his mouth, growing exasperated by your cold shoulder. He knew you were in there — had seen you walk home after school, when he was finishing a job just around the corner. Besides, where else would you be?

You stayed silent, sitting on the unmade sheets of your bed, staring at the door as Tommy knocked once again.

“C’mon, open the door. Please?” He repeated, and you could practically picture his stance outside, one arm resting against the doorframe and one hand resting against his hip. “Just wanna talk, alright? Then I’ll be on my way.”

You heard the heaviness of his sigh from your space across the room. But it didn’t change anything for you. How could it? Tommy had sent you to his brother, he had known what his brother was like, and he had sat idly by while you were uprooted and sent across town like you didn’t matter. Just another inconvenience. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also forcing you to go to Jackson’s community school, run primarily by an almost 70 year old woman, who was meant to retire a year after the outbreak.

It was ridiculous and unfair.

Ellie didn’t have to go to school.

It just felt like another method of getting you out of the way. After all, what did you need with writing and reading? Mathematics and history? The world had ended before you were even born.

Besides, you knew for a fact that Tommy had volunteered to take Ellie out shooting soon. Despite her avoiding you, you could still hear her boasting about it in the canteen to her friends.

You couldn’t help but feel like it should’ve been you. After all, weren’t you the one without anybody? Weren’t you the one who would be alone, should Jackson fall apart? Ellie would have Tommy and Maria. She would have Joel. Who would you have? Nobody.

If Tommy Miller had ever actually cared about you, perhaps he would’ve helped you work on the issues you’d been facing when you went to him for help, rather than passing you off to his older brother. You had spent your entire life depending on only yourself. Tommy had no idea what it had taken for you to approach him, for you to want help. To have that thrown back in your face, you knew, had done damage. As if you weren’t already damaged enough.

It was something you had been aware of for a long time — that there was something wrong about you. Something rotten. Like something had crawled into your chest, into the gaping cavity between your ribs, and died in there. It had been decaying over the years, leaving an air about you that told everybody exactly what you had always known: you are unsalvageable. Nothing in this world could reverse the decomposition that had occurred inside of you, just like nothing could reverse the infection that had taken the family you had never known.

The whole thing made you feel foolish, really. Your whole life, a voice inside of your head had been telling you that nobody could help you. Nobody would help you. And when you had finally gathered the courage to prove that voice wrong? It was proven right instead. It was a kick in the teeth. A thorn underneath your fingernail. Something bothersome, painful.

Tommy Miller had proven that you were just as alone as you had always felt.

He knocked against your door again, apparently content to wait you out. You had nowhere to go, but the knocking was irritating, the knowledge of his presence outside of that door was grating.

Before you could think better of it, you made your way over, and opened the door.

He looked the same as he always had done. Dressed for the weather, his favourite pair of boots on, and hair pushed away from his face, which held a surprised expression.

“Hey, kid.” He said, finally, after a moment of just staring at you in shock. It had been a while since Tommy had seen you up close. You looked more tired than he remembered.

“What do you want?” You asked, forgoing any sort of greeting towards the man. Opening the door was about as generous as you were prepared to be towards him.

His face morphed slightly, shock ebbing away, regret flowing in at the creases by his eyes, the grimace of his mouth. “Right, uh,” He paused, looking into your converted garage through the gap between you and the door. You pulled the door closer, so only you fit into the gap. “Alright, so, I know things have been… tense, between everybody, but I was hopin’ that you might join us. Me ‘n Maria are doin’ a winter’s dinner, not exactly Christmas, but it’s a day to be with family, y’know?” Tommy rambled on a bit, trying to spit all of his words out before you could decline, or shut the door in his face.

“We’re not family, Tommy.”

You watched his expression fall, which provided you with a sting that you hadn’t expected. But the sentiment remained the same — you weren’t family. Your surname wasn’t Miller. And even if it were, with the state of things between you, Tommy and Joel? It definitely wasn’t something you’d call family.

Honestly, you weren’t sure why he was coming to you with this now. Maybe before Joel had rejected you, before Tommy had watched on as any trust you had was shattered, but now? Now, he was lucky you even opened the door. You didn’t have a family, and it wasn’t a big loss to you. You’d gone this long without one, so what did it matter?

Tommy’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He was at a loss for words.

“Go home, okay?” You said, when his words continued to fail him. He swallowed, jaw clenched as his teeth gritted together. He was frustrated, though you doubted that was directed at you. More likely, was that it was directed at Joel. You knew things had been tense between the two of them recently, too.

He paused just as he was about to turn away. “Will you think about it, at least?” Tommy asked, though he didn’t look like he wanted to hear your answer. It wasn’t much of a question anyway.

You nodded, with no real intention of thinking about it. Well — no intention of thinking about attending. Thinking about the offer was a different story.

His shoulders deflated as he turned away, hearing you shut the door as he followed the path away from your place.

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Even a full twenty four hours after Tommy had approached you with his invitation, you couldn’t let it go.

It felt as though something within you had snapped, falling from a great height and landing in the pit of your stomach. For whatever reason, one that you couldn’t get into now, maybe ever, you were filled to the brim with dread. It bubbled over, pooling in your limbs and making everything feel far too heavy.

You couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just let you be? Couldn’t he see that he had done more than enough, when it came to you?

Logically, you know it isn’t fair to blame him. Tommy wasn’t in control of anything his brother or pseudo-niece did. He had always tried to look out for you, and deep down, you know that he had truly believed that his brother would be good for you. He must have thought that, given Joel’s pre-outbreak experience, and now post-outbreak too, of being a father, he could’ve been that for you. Tommy couldn’t have known that Joel didn’t want another kid.

But that illogical part of you, the part that cowers away from everybody you meet, the part that was hurt, reminds you that it was his job to know. It was his responsibility to know what he was dumping you into. And more than that, Joel was his brother. How could he not have known?

You were the one who had ended up well and truly hurt from the encounter, not the other way around. So why did you feel guilty, every time Tommy’s expression at your scathing words popped into your mind? You hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, and you hadn’t said anything that he didn’t deserve to hear. So why? Why did you feel this unending twist of dread and guilt, eating away at your bones, your tissues, your organs?

Even now, as you worked a late night shift at the canteen, washing dishes, every time the water rippled, you could see his face. Distantly, you hoped Joel had felt like this, after what he had done to you. You hoped he remembered what he said, remembered your expression when you relayed his own message to him.

If you were honest with yourself, you think that if it had been Joel, you would’ve revelled in that expression. There’s a part of you, a part that is mean and bitter and full of resentment, that wants to hurt Joel, just like he had hurt you. You settle for staying as far away from him as you possibly can.

Joel had tried to see you a few times, back when it was fresh, with no luck from you. There was nobody in this world that you wanted to see less than him. At the very least, he got the message. Sometimes, you wonder if he had only shown up those few instances just for appearances. To make himself look better. It was no secret to the people of Jackson that Joel Miller was a questionable man, with an even more questionable past. But he did more for the town than most, so it wasn’t spoken about. Nothing more than whispers, anyway.

There had been a few whispers after your outburst at the Tipsy Bison, especially when somebody shared the news of your move across town. But it was chalked up to teenage dramatics, the youth, as if there really was such a thing.

Regardless, Tommy’s invitation to dinner was coming up in a mere two days. The knowledge of where and when it was happening made you uncomfortable, like an itch underneath your collar, it was stifling. Because that part of you, the one that wants to hurt Joel, also wants company. It craves a family, and that was a craving that had only ever come close to being fulfilled once. Still, it was a natural instinct within humans. Safety came in numbers, and there was comfort in having people you could trust. You wish that part of you could just be satisfied being solitary, because you’ll never go to that dinner. Not if you have anything to say about it.

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Two hours until dinner, and the sun was beginning to set.

And here you were, axe in hand, staring down at the dwindling pile of wood that you needed to cleave into pieces. It wouldn’t last two hours. In reality, it wouldn’t even last one. Still, you stare as though the logs might multiply, hoping for the excuse out of a dinner you didn’t want to go to. And you know that you have no obligation to any of those people, you do know that, but it’s hard to believe it. Partly because you don’t want to. Because you’re torn between the satisfaction of succeeding on your own, and the fear of cutting off all ties to the only people you think you’ve truly cared about.

Being alone is a lot easier in theory.

In practice, it’s harder than you had thought. You were doing okay when they all left you to it, left you to live your own life. But an invitation means something, and that’s hard to ignore.

You bring the axe down, letting the severing of wood distract you from all thoughts of invitations and dinners and meanings.

It’s about the most physical task they’ll let you do — courtesy of Tommy, you’re sure — but you relish in it. Something about it is rewarding. Reminds you of your capabilities, your survival. The cold air burns your lungs, and each swing of the axe makes your muscles ache, but in a satisfying way. And doing it like this, alone, makes you feel unmistakably powerful.

You hear the crunch of footsteps behind you, not heavy enough to be Tommy’s or—God forbid—Joel’s. You paid them no mind, leaning down to move the chopped wood into the pile you had already assembled. You grabbed another log and placed it down, and just as you were preparing to swing the axe back up, you heard somebody clear their throat.

“Hey,” Ellie said, when you turned around. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as you failed to reply, fiddling with the gloves on her hands. “So, uh, you having fun chopping wood?” She asked, apparently trying to clear some of the tension that surrounded the two of you, that clung. You leant the top of the axe blade on the ground, and sighed. Your breath clouded in front of your face.

“What do you want?” You asked, repeating the very same question you had asked Tommy, feeling all the more certain about your adamancy about not going to that dinner. Ellie’s brows furrowed slightly, but she quickly deflated as soon as you could see the defensive air starting to rise within her.

She shifted again, before speaking. “Just wondering if you’re coming to dinner? Tommy said he wasn’t sure.”

You did your best not to scoff, mostly succeeding, as you turned back to the wood awaiting your axe. With practiced ease, your axe rose, and swung down at the wood, separating it with a satisfying crack. “Wouldn’t count on it.” You said, as polite as you could say: no, no, I’m not fucking coming to dinner. You’re not my family. You don’t care about me. I don’t care about you. There’s nothing left here.

It was ridiculous for them to send Ellie to come and convince you to attend, of all people. Their best bet would have been Maria, who had never technically done anything that had hurt you. No, all of the fault laid with the Millers, and with Ellie.

The two of you could’ve remained friends, could’ve been something close to a family, but she didn’t want that. She chose to cut you out, to isolate you even further, to disappear from your life completely, despite being the only reason you had ever opened up to Joel. It was like she had taken a knife, and cut you open, let you warm, simmer, before leaving you out on the counter to cool. To rot.

“What happened to you?” Ellie asked, as if she didn’t know, as if she hadn’t been a part of it. Like there was no reason for your shift from being warm around her, to being ice cold. She had done this to you. At least, in part.

You didn’t say anything at first, choosing to finish chopping the wood in front of you, and piling it off to the side. Finally, you turned to her as she watched you, brows furrowed, lip curled defensively. “You people happened. You all fucking happened. Is that enough for you? Is that enough for why I don’t want to go to some stupid winter dinner?” You said, not raising your voice, but hearing more anger and irritation seep into your tone as you spoke.

She looked like she wanted to take a step back, but she stayed firm. “We all have our own problems,” Ellie told you, voice harsh and unrelenting as she spoke, and her expression hardened. “Everybody does! It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, okay?”

It would have been so easy to continue arguing with her, to descend into childish taunts and quips, to disguise genuine hurt with ridiculous arguments, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You said nothing, turning back to the depleting supply of unchopped wood.

Ellie seemed ready to burst. “Me and Joel have our own fucking problems! It’s not always good. But you can’t just give up on someone!” She said loudly, stepping towards you, ignoring the snow crunching underneath her shoes. It seemed to you that she was trying to convince herself, more than anything. Whatever she came to you with, now, wasn’t really about you. It was about her.

“I’m not the one who gave up, Ellie. You and Joel are more alike than you know. But at least he had the decency to tell me why he was giving up on me.” You told her, staying calm, despite the way your blood was rushing through your body, carrying so much adrenaline you felt like your heart may just burst.

She gaped at you, seeming more stuck on the concept of her and Joel being alike than on how she had hurt you. You figured it would go like this, though, if the two of you ever spoke again. It wasn’t a surprise to you. Everything in your life always turned out the way you expected it to. Even Joel and Ellie, in the end, had done as much, despite surprising you at first. It was inevitable. Your every worry, every fear, even the ones that Tommy had once labelled as irrational, had turned out to be true.

You wouldn’t go to the dinner.

Everything between you and the extended Miller family was in ruins, and like you, it couldn’t be salvaged. It was over with. Done.

Now, all that was left to do was wipe your hands clean of them.

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A/N: hello if you made it this far! it has been a WHILE. but in honour of ITDWS being posted a year ago today (!!!!!!!!!) i thought i’d give y’all SOMETHING!!! it’s not amazing but i hope you enjoy!!! life has been crazy + i haven’t been writing much but i still love and appreciate every single one of you <3 i think of you often.

#heartpascal writes #joel miller imagines #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #tommy miller fic #tommy miller imagines #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller one shot #tommy miller angst #joel miller angst #ellie williams angst

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Eight)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4.4k

Warnings / Soft!Joel as usual, some heavy petting, descriptions of panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (I am not a medical professional, please don't come for me), descriptions of food and alcohol, but nothing else.

Authors Note / Okay, so this came to me in a dream when I was really stuck on how to properly move these two forward and I hope that I've managed to portray it properly. If you enjoyed this then please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or popping into my ask with some love! And if you'd like to leave a tip, you can do that over on my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summer soon makes way for the fall, the air becoming chillier in Jackson by the day. The leaves have started to change, and you can already feel yourself missing the warmth and comfort that summer brought. The days are shorter, but that might also have something to do with the fact that you were finally back to work at the library full time, spending your days with Kate, and your evenings, more often than not, with Joel and Ellie.

You and Joel were still taking things steady. You always returned to your home each evening and nothing had progressed between the two of you apart from the heavy make-out sessions you would sometimes have on his couch. He was careful with you, always searching your face when his hands would touch somewhere new, always asking if it was alright to put his lips to your neck, pointing to exactly where he’d put his mouth with his fingers. It was nice, you enjoyed it, and there had never been a moment where you felt he was frustrated with how slow things were going between the two of you. Always content to just sit with his arm around you, play board games with you and Ellie and just have quiet conversation in the dark of his living room.

It was, however, frustrating you. There had been occasions where you’d stood on the porch, waiting for him to open the door, where you thought that evening would be the one. It had happened more often recently, now that Ellie had converted the garage at the end of their garden as somewhere to have her own space, but every time you felt like you wanted to ask, ask him to lay you down underneath him and take what you were desperate for, something always stopped you.

Tonight, it was particularly cold out. Joel had set a fire which had warmed his living room, casting an orange, flickering glow over the game of monopoly that Ellie had just won. You’d been at it for hours, a back and forth of Joel trying to convince you to sell your properties to him in exchange for his utilities, you refusing and instead ganging up with Ellie to buy up most of the board, before she turned on you as well.

“Told ya,” Joel smirks, nudging you with his elbow, “Should’a sold your blues to me, then we’d be the winners.”

“Joel,” You chuckle, as you take the paper money from Ellie to put back in the box, “You offered me two utilities for my two blues, it was never going to happen.”

“Hey, I offered to throw in a kiss as well,�� He winks at you, to which you swat his arm, “Usually wins you over.”

“You two a fucking gross sometimes,” Ellie laughs, “I’m going to bed, don’t stay up too long, oldies.”

She’s out of the backdoor in a flash, leaving you to finish clearing up the game and stack it away with the others, Joel is standing from the couch at the same time, “Nightcap?” He asks.

“Always,” You smile over your shoulder, “That’s what us old people do, right? Drink whiskey to help us sleep.”

He chuckles as he pulls the bottle from the cupboard. This had become an almost nightly routine now, you’d have a drink or two, cuddle up until you could feel your eyes get heavy and then go home to your empty house, your empty bed. But it didn’t ever feel that lonely anymore. Sure, sometimes you’d turn over and look at the empty side of the bed and wish someone was there, but more often than not it was Joel’s form you’d imagine there at night, not Mark, although he did still make his appearances.

The more you’d talked to Joel about him, the more comfortable you’d become with the idea that Mark would actually have really fucking liked Joel. Mark and Tommy had been close friends, and although Joel was certainly different to Tommy in many ways, you knew that if Joel had just been a friend, if Mark had continued to stay alive and healthy, they’d have been a firm trio of friends.

“You ever think you’d spend the rest of your days living out the apocalypse playing monopoly?” You ask as Joel hands you your glass, “Because if you’d have told me twenty years ago that’s what I’d be doing, I’d have laughed.”

He lets out a groan as he sits back down, opening his arm for you to curl up into his side like you usually do, “It does seem a bit domestic, doesn’t it?” He chuckles, taking a sip from his glass, “Nice though, especially when I got a pretty lady to cuddle up to as well.”

“You flirt,” You chuckle, sipping your own drink, “Mark would have hated evenings like this though.”

“Hmmm?” Joel hums, “Why’s that?”

“Just not his style,” You shrug, “Liked his evenings quiet, we’d eat dinner and read, and he’d be in bed as soon as it was dark.”

“You liked that?” Joel asks, hand running light touches up and down your arm.

“I didn’t mind it,” You answer honestly, “After years of bouncing from place to place, never knowing when you were going to have to move on or when you might die, it was nice to just be still and quiet I guess.”

“But you prefer getting your ass beat by a fifteen-year-old at monopoly?” He chuckles.

“I wouldn’t say prefer,” You laugh along, “It’s just a nice change.”

The whiskey, and the dying flames of the fire, are warming your bones. You finish the last of the whiskey and put the glass on the coffee table, settling back into Joel’s side, “You want a top up?” He asks, setting his own half-finished glass down.

You look up at him, “Not right now, but I’d like a kiss if you don’t mind?”

“Oh sweet pea, I never mind.” He grins, leaning down to capture your lips with his own.

There’s something in the air tonight that makes you bold as brass. You push yourself up a little so Joel isn’t craning his neck down to you so much, one of your hands coming to rest on his shoulder to steady yourself as you move to loom over him. You pull your lips from him just enough to settle yourself into a more comfortable position before they’re back together, this time, your tongue running along his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open for you.

You don’t think you’re ever going to get tired of the way this man kisses you. Every time it’s like he won’t ever get the chance again. His big hands are cupping your face, pulling you further down, pressing your mouths closer together. The taste of the whiskey on his tongue is always intoxicating, but tonight even more so. Before you can really register what you’re doing, you throw one leg over his hip so you’re straddling his lap. There’s still a fair amount of space between the two of you, you’re hovering as far above his lap as you can manage, but Joel’s hands are moving from your face, resting on the waistband of your jeans where they are on your hips.

He lets out a quiet moan into your mouth which sends electric shocks down your spine to settle in your tummy and God, you want more. You let your own hands grip his broad shoulders and before you know it, those big hands of his are resting on the globes of your ass, gently palming them through the denim of your jeans. His touch is electric – his hands guiding you to settle further into his lap when you feel it. You sink down just far enough to feel the unmistakable bulge at the front of Joel’s jeans against your own aching core and jolts you. Makes you panic. How could you have possibly gotten this far without even thinking? It makes you want to be sick.

You pull away from his mouth and rest your forehead on his, “I’m sorry,” You mumble, “I’m fucking sorry Joel.”

“Hey,” He speaks, hands moving from your ass back to your face, “Look at me, sweet pea.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own, as always, not a hint of anger or frustration on his face, just one of concern, one that he’s pushed you too far and made you uncomfortable, “Why is this so fucking hard for me?” You speak, mostly for yourself.

“Because it’s a big deal,” He says simply, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “You don’t have to be sorry about anythin’, it’s me actin’ like a damn teenager when I’ve got a pretty girl on my lap.”

You extricate yourself from his lap, trying not to watch as he adjusts himself so his erection isn’t so prevalent in his jeans. Once he’s gotten himself more comfortable, he finishes off his whiskey before he lets out a yawn. It must be late, the game had gone on for hours and you know he’s got morning patrol tomorrow.

“I’ll get outta your hair,” You mumble quietly, not quite sure why you’re the one feeling hurt now, “Know you’ve got an early morning.”

“Hey,” He grips your arm as you try and stand, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Thinkin’ I want ya to leave because we’re not having sex.”

“I don’t think that at all.” You say, defensively.

“Yes you do,” God why can he just always read you like this, “I’m not mad at you sweet pea, I will say it until I’m blue in the face, you take all the time you need,” He leans in as close to your ear as he possible can, “And when you’re ready, I’m gonna be so fuckin’ good to you, you won’t know your own name.”

You gasp, giggling at his words. The longer you’d been staying with him like this, the filthier promises had been dropping from his lips. Never to pressure you, only to promise you exactly what you had in store when you felt able to give yourself to him.

“Well,” You smile, giving his upper thigh a squeeze, “I’ll be sure to think of what that might entail when I get into bed later.”

A smirk appears on his lips, “Only if you tell me all about it tomorrow.”

It’s a few days later when you’re shutting up the library with Kate. She locks the door and hikes her bag higher on her shoulder, “You want to grab a drink at the bar?” She asks, “We haven’t been together in so long.”

You know that Joel is on patrol right now and won’t be back until later, and a drink at the bar usually means a good hearty meal as well, which you would really enjoy against the backdrop of the cold evening air, so you gladly agree. You’d been a few times in the past weeks, mainly with Tommy and Maria accompanying you and Joel, and thankfully, no-one, including Vanessa, had made any comments like the first night, so you were more comfortable there now.

You sit together with Kate, sipping a glass of whiskey and enjoying bowls of venison stew, watching as Ellie sits with a group of kids doing the same, but with glasses of juice instead. Joel had confided in you months ago that he was worried about her fitting in, that she’d struggled to make friends with people her own age, but since she’d started at the school, things had been better. She was attached to Dina and Cat by the hip most of the time, and it was nice to know she was able to enjoy being a kid for once.

“So, how are things going with your man?” Kate teases, dropping her spoon into her empty bowl.

“They’re okay,” You answer honestly, “Slow going, but that’s what I need.”

“I have to say, in the past few weeks you’re almost your old self.”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better to be honest,” You admit, “Like, I still struggle sometimes, but Belinda moved me to one appointment a month and said she thinks I’m finally on the road to a proper recovery.”

“Good,” She smiles, clinking her glass to yours, “And it’s not all him either,” She adds, “Sure he’s rugged and handsome, but don’t let anyone think we’re giving him all the credit for making you happy, you’ve done this all by yourself, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You smile, taking a sip of your whiskey.

“Now hurry up,” She says, slamming her drink back, “I’ve got a date with Pride and Prejudice.”

You roll your eyes but knock back your own drink all the same, “You’ve read it at least six times since I’ve known you,” You stand, gathering your things, “And you’d still rather read it than spend time with me?”

“Sorry babes,” She chuckles, “But Mr Darcy wins every time.”

As you’re leaving The Tipsy Bison, you’re suddenly all too aware that there’s hell of a commotion going on in the street. The main gates are flung open, and people are shouting and screaming to each other as horses gallop in through the gates. Then, you can see Tommy. He’s dragging someone back through the gates. Then, you realise who it is and all the colour drains from your face. He’s dragging Joel and he’s covered in fucking blood. You bend over and try to not throw up. You can feel Kate at your side, trying to pull you up to standing again, you let her, but you can feel your knees start to buckle as you try and get down the steps and onto the street.

Maria is running towards you; you can see panic written on her face. Kate lets you go for a moment and as you’re running towards Tommy, you tumble down onto the ground, palms hitting the dirt and gravel. In any other circumstance you’d probably register the pain of landing on your knees at your age, but Maria is on the floor in front of you, bringing your face to the crook of her shoulder to shield you from whatever is going on.

“Joel… oh my god.” Is all you can mumble, just his name over and over again into Maria’s shoulder.

Then, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing on the floor. You look up and Tommy is coming towards you, him and another man dragging Joel, who looks to be just holding on to consciousness. You try and push yourself up, but Maria is trying to keep you grounded.

“Let go of me!” You scream, trying to tear Maria’s arms off you, “I have to go with him!”

“Darling, calm down.” She tries to soothe.

“No!” Another roar from your lungs, “Let me see him!”

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face. You have to be near him. You have to know he’s okay. You can’t do this again, you can’t lose someone else, not like this. You’re trying to suck in breath through your mouth, but you just end up choking on the air as you continue to fight to get away, to follow behind Tommy who has rushed past you. You can see drops of blood on the ground, drop of Joel’s blood, and this is what finally causes you to throw up. His blood, on the floor, that means it’s bad.

You can feel someone else behind you trying to pull you up as Maria helps from the front, trying to get you away from the mess you’ve made from emptying your stomach on the floor. You fall into Maria’s arms again when she wraps them around you, running a hand over your hair to try and calm you down, whispering that it’s going to be okay and that you can see him soon.

Then, in your mind, your brain goes straight to Ellie. You’re whipping around, about to run back into the bar to get her, but when you do, you realise she’s the person who helped get you up off floor.

“Oh my God,” You breathe, pulling her into a hug of her own, “Ellie.”

She wraps her arms around your middle, squeezing you just as hard as you’re squeezing her before you pull away and cup her face in your hands. Her face is just as distraught as you must imagine yours is, although she’s not crying, just has a glazed look in her eye that breaks your heart even more. You don’t need to ask each other whether you’re okay. You both know the answer. You just pull back into each other and hug even tighter, until Maria is touching your lower back.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” She says, leading you both down the street, following the very obvious trail of blood, “Tommy can tell us what the fuck is going on, if nothing else.”

As you’re walking, you’re remembering the last time you made this trip to the hospital. Maria was guiding you then, you were crying then, knowing it was going to be the last time you got to see Mark. The last time you’d get to hold his hand. Watch the slow rise-and-fall of his chest. He was unconscious. He didn’t know you were there. He had no idea you kept hold of his hand right to the very end.

Your feet are carrying you at this point. You don’t feel like you’re inside your body at all, don’t feel at all human. The only thing anchoring you to the real world is Ellie’s hand clutched in your own and Maria’s guiding arm around your waist.

When you step through the doors of the hospital it’s a flurry. It looks as though Joel wasn’t the only one to get injured, although most of the other men in the waiting room look mainly walking wounded and not pouring blood out onto the ground. A nurse is tending to them as best she can, and then Tommy is bursting through the doors at the end of the hall, own clothes covered in blood, but looking like he might have gotten off scott-free, injury wise.

“What the fucking hell happened out there?!” Maria is demanding as she lets go of your briefly to hug her husband.

“It was a fuckin’ ambush,” Tommy spits, noticing Ellie and you stood behind her, shedding his jacket and throwing it to the side so you don’t have to look at the blood, “A whole fuckin’ group of ‘em, waiting us out at the lodge,” He lets Maria go, “Fuckin’ bastard’s took us by surprise, started firin’ all over the place, it was fuckin’ carnage,” He’s checking on Ellie next, “Thought we got ‘em all, and then outta fuckin’ nowhere this one guy manages to take a perfect shot at Joel, right through the shoulder.”

“Can we…” You trail off as he takes you in an embrace, “Can we see him?”

He pulls away, looking at you with eyes that says he’s sorry, and you’re not sure if he’s saying sorry because you can’t or because Joel might be dead. It makes your bottom lip wobble and more tears to spring in your eyes.

“They’re tryin’ to dig a bullet outta his shoulder, sweetheart,” He says, “As soon as he’s comfortable we’ll let you in, alright?”

You nod and let him, and Maria lead you and Ellie to a room that’s empty down the hall. Maria stays sat with you whilst Tommy goes to find something warm to drink, bringing back a flask of coffee that you don’t even bother to ask where he found it. He set a mug in your hands, giving Ellie some water instead, and that’s how you sit for what feels like hours. The room is mostly silent, save for the few times your emotions threaten to get the better of you and you have to take big, deep breaths to keep yourself in control. Your hand stays firmly clutched to Ellie’s; you both take turns rubbing your thumbs over each other’s hands to keep each other calm.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but a doctor is opening the door. He’s got a mask over his mouth, but no gloves on, scrubs with splatters of blood on them. Everyone in the room sits up in their chairs, waiting for the axe to drop, “He’s fine,” There’s a collective sigh of relief, “He’s lucky the bullet got lodged, we managed to pull it out and stitch him up fine, he’s just a little tired from the blood loss,” You finally let out your own breath that you’d been holding in, “He can have visitors, but one at a time.”

You turn to Ellie, “You go first,” You say, pulling her hand for her to stand up, “He’ll want to see you.”

She stands but doesn’t leave to follow the doctor until she’s bent down to give you a bone crushing hug. Tommy follows her out soon after, mumbling something about needing to check on the other guys, which leaves you and Maria alone.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, suddenly all too embarrassed at your outburst in the street.

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“All that,” You gesture wildly with your hand, “Out there.”

She gets up from her chair and kneels in front of you, comforting hands on your knees, “Don’t be so silly,” She soothes, “Even I was fucking scared by it all, I know how much he means to you, so you don’t need to be sorry, ever, you understand?”

“I just feel so stupid,” You can feel your tears starting again, “It was just a single bullet wound, why did I act like it was the end of the world?”

“Because none of us knew that?” She offers, “He was almost unconscious girl, there was blood everywhere.”

“I thought….” You trail off, not wanting to admit what’s on the tip of your tongue.

“You thought you were going to lose him too?”

All you do is nod, letting a tear trickle down your face. Maria’s cold hands come up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears, “That man is a stubborn son-of-a-bitch,” She soothes, “Gonna take a lot more than a single bullet to tear him away from you.”

Maria is just lifting herself from t he floor when Ellie comes back into the room, Tommy behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders, “I’m gonna take Ellie home, but he wanted to see you.” He’s motioning to you.

“Will you be alright on your own?” You ask to Ellie, it’s a stupid question, because she’s probably one of the most self-sufficient fifteen year old’s you’ve ever met, but you want her to know that she has you if she needs you.

“I think I’ll probably just crash,” She shrugs, clearly still reeling herself from what happened, “I know where to find you tomorrow if I need you.”

You give her one last hug before Tommy is leading her away down the hall, pointing through the doors at where you needed to go.

When you push open the door to his room, Joel is sat, propped up in bed with his shoulder wrapped up in what has to have been almost all the communes supply of bandages. His face is pale, and you can tell he’s in pain, so you let the door close behind you and stand right there, waiting for him to invite you closer. His shirt is ripped, where the doctor obviously didn’t want to waste time trying to get him out of it in a dignified manner, and there’s blood covering the material and his jeans have a fair splattering of it as well.

“It looks worse than it is, I promise,” He speaks softly, motioning for you to come and sit on the chair next to his bed, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

You shake your head as you take a seat, shuffling the chair closer to the bed, “Don’t be silly,” You respond, “You were bleeding quite profusely, you didn’t need to worry about me.”

He offers you his hand, led on the bed, palm upturned, which you take, wrapping your own hand around his, giving it a squeeze, just to make sure he is really still here, “Are you okay?” He asks, squeezing you hand back.

“Joel, please,” You sigh, “Don’t ask about me when you just got shot.”

“Well, I know I’m okay, and now you know I’m okay, so I’m asking you, sweet pea, are you okay?”

“I was so scared Joel,” You whimper, lip trembling, “I thought- oh god – that I might lose you as well.”

He releases your hand, only to brush the tears from your face before he’s gripping it again, “You listen to me,” He speaks, you look at him, “I have been shot at more times than I remember, it’s going to take hell of a lot more than a bullet to take me away from you, do you understand me?”

You nod, using. Your own free hand to wipe away more tears that have fallen from your eyes, “Can I hug you?”

“Promise to watch out for my shoulder?” He teases, you nod with a small smile, “Then I’d love a hug.”

You stand from the chair, leaning over to wrap your arms around his neck. Joel sits forward just a touch to let your arms snake around him, before his good arm is clutching around you and pulling you down. You let your head drop to the crook of his neck, where you turn and press a kiss to his skin, breathe in his scent, take him all in.

It’s in this moment that you realise you might just have the capacity to love this man. This man who has done nothing but be kind to you. This man who has been so patient and soft and understanding at every marker of whatever this relationship was. This man who kissed you like his life depended on it, clearly capable of such extreme violence that would have kept him alive, but never once showing you that side of him. You can’t say it, not yet it’s too fast, but the panic you had felt at the prospect of losing him meant you knew exactly who he was to you. You could love Joel Miller, you wanted so desperately to love Joel Miller. You just prayed the world would give you enough time together to do it.

Joel Miller Taglist: @winwin70@jessie8605@trulybetty@amanitacowboy@morning-star-joy@tieronecrush@leeeesahhh@babeincolor@beee-haw@kirsteng42@mirandablue1@sixxslut@impala1967dwinchester@flash2412@gimmebackmysoul@kelp-dreaming@gracie7209@voteforpedro09@brittmb115@karokaroxx@amb11@heartfairy @grumpy-the-tired @Lillilotus @doctorstatic@morallyinept@southernbe@elissaa@pop-sugar102@u-luciferssatanicdaughter@alyhull@purplerain44@harryleatherfit@lovely-ateez@emilianamason @bootyliciousposts @lorilane33@casa-boiardi@cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @tightjeansjavi @cavillscurls @darkroastjoel @morning-star-joy

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