#joel miller folklore

[proxima-writes]

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes. 

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly. 

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have.  She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.  

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully. 

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them. 

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer. 

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site. 

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe. 

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story. 

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street. 

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you. 

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places. 

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters. 

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening. 

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks. 

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him. 

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you. 

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face. 

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.” 

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning. 

“What do you think you’re doin’?” 

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch. 

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.  “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all. 

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue. 

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him. 

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins. 

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy. 

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries. 

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate. 

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake. 

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a  t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me. 

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him. 

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside. 

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands. 

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age. 

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open. 

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do? 

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza. 

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce. 

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address. 

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color. 

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him. 

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?” 

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar. 

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you. 

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs. 

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway. 

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover. 

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head. 

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou fic #taylor swift folklore #folklore anthology #joel miller folklore

[ellies-enrichment]

how she tells joel she knows he’s abandoning her and giving her to tommy

#crazy folklore by taylor swift was released 2003 #the last of us #hbo the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #hbo tlou #memes #mine #if i ever were to lose queue #incorrect tlou quotes

[jksprincess10]

Cardigan || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You’re lost in the memories of your intense relationship with your dad’s boss when you find a significant object. 

CW: Age gap relationship (Joel is 50, reader is in her 20s), alcohol, weed, daddy issues, angst, breakup, flirting, teasing, daddy kink, dirty talk, bj, swallowing, unprotected pv, masturbation 

Here it is ! My frist fic for the Folklore anthology!

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favorite

Your childhood bedroom was almost all packed-up, boxes piled up in different corners. You were thrilled to have your own place and have your own big girl job, without the constant weight of your dad’s indifference.

You only had to check under the bed to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. Your hands found the hard shape of a box. You pulled it out and opened it. Inside, a somewhat ordinary flannel shirt was neatly folded. You took it between your fingers, traced a few lines on the dark green fabric, and you held it against your face to smell the memories of a man. Cologne, maybe a slight scent of weed you had smoked that night.

His name echoed in your mind, and you felt the tears prickling your eyes.

But I knew you Dancin' in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight, I I knew you Hand under my sweatshirt Baby, kiss it better, I

The bar was swarming with drunk guys from the company your dad worked for. His boss, Mr. Miller, was equally drunk. His shirt was loosened up somewhere along the way, his tie hanging pathetically around his neck. You were busy looking at him, while your father was showing you off like a trophy, raving about your accomplishments in college. When in reality, he didn’t care at all.

“She’s such a smart cookie, isn’t she.”

Your dad’s voice got drowned in the ambient music. You were just hoping Mr. Miller would notice you. Would call you smart. And good. And pretty. But he was busy, everyone around was asking for his attention.

“I’m gonna get some air for a bit, dad.” You excused yourself awkwardly as the men he was talking to were looking at you like fresh meat.

You passed through the bar’s sweaty bodies until you were gratified with the cool air from the starless night. You sat down in the alleyway separating the bar from another one, and you rummaged through your purse to find some relief. You took the rolled joint between your fingers and lit it up, your lips pulling on the herb until you exhaled shakily.

After a few generous puffs, you panicked when you heard somebody coming your way. When the person got closer, you recognized Mr. Miller’s broad silhouette under the streetlights.

His irises behind his thick-framed glasses weren’t deceiving him; his employee’s angelic daughter was hiding to smoke weed. He got closer, and the scent of his masculine cologne filled your nose.

“Oh shit, what do we have here…” He chuckled.

“Don’t tell dad.” You mumbled and offered him the joint. He took it between his thick fingers and smoked for a bit, before giving it back to you. “Just had to get out… Can’t stand the way he shows me around.”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all of this, but he had this fatherly aura to him, and you craved an older man’s reassurance.

“So, you ain’t havin’ fun, sweetheart?”

You didn’t know if it was the drugs or your nickname, but your mind felt blurrier when he called you like that.

“Now, I am.” You smirked.

You didn’t know if you were imagining things, but you saw a devilish sparkle in his dark eyes.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, I finally have my dad’s boss attention.” You shrugged and stepped on your finish joint bud, ashes disappearing in the grey concrete. “You’re hot, Mr. Miller.”

His cheeks were red – a mix between alcohol consumption and shyness.

“Are you drunk, findin’ an old man like me hot?”

“Barely.” You said.

But, he was drunk when his figure hovered over yours and his fingers grabbed on to your chin to lift it up.

“You’re playin’ dangerous games, sweetheart.”

“I know.” You pulled on his blue button-up shirt to bring him closer, and crashed your lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, and his breath was minty with a hint of beer. His tongue invaded your mouth, as his calloused hard-working hands were sliding under your shirt to feel your shivering skin.

**

The party ended with you running away to Mr. Miller’s house with an excuse that “a friend was picking you up and getting you home” – although, “house” wasn’t giving it justice. It was more like a modern mansion.

“You live here alone?” You asked as you took in the sight of the entryway.

“Yes, my daughter Sarah moved away for college. ”

So, his daughter was around your age.

“You want something to drink, sweetheart?”

“Just water, please.”

You sat down in the spacious living room while waiting for him.

“Thank you, Mr Miller.” You said as he gave you the glass.

“Just call me Joel.” He said as he drank from his own glass.

“Okay, Joel.” You tasted the name on your tongue, and he imagined how he could make you whimper his name for the rest of the night.

“Why don’t we pickup where we left off?” He asked after clearing his throat.

You laughed, and cradled his spread thighs, feeling the impressive tent in his pants under you. With your lips pressed against his, you thrusted your hips against his to get some friction.

“Don’t tease me, M’too old for this, sweetheart.” He whispered against the skin of your neck, his hands taking place under your shirt once again.

“How old?” You asked as you melted into his touch.

“50.”

“Fuck.” You couldn’t hide your reaction. His hands went up slowly, feeling your breasts through your bra.

“You like that, sweetheart? You wanna get fucked by a man old enough to be your dad?”

“Yes.” You whimpered breathlessly.

He squeezed your breasts roughly, before peeling off your shirt. Your fingers hastily undid the rest of his halfway undone shirt. You slowly slid down his body until your knees met the fluffy decorative carpet in the living room. You undid his suit pants, and pulled them down a bit. You could already see a wet spot on the fabric of his boxers. You leaned down a pressed a kiss there, that was met with a deep grunt.

“Can I suck it, daddy?”

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, you’re somethin’ else. Go ahead.”

His big hand laid on your head as you pulled down his boxers, letting his dick spring out freely. It was beautifully thick, and the head of it was already leaking. You kitten licked the head, drinking in every drop of precum you could find. He cursed under his breath, as you took in what you could fit in your mouth. You held the base between the circle of your fingers, pumping it slowly between your lips.

“Fuck. You’re so good.”

The praise made you moan around him, vibrations of your voice giving him more sensation. Encouraged by his hand on your head, you slid your mouth up and down at a faster rhythm.

“You want me to cum in your mouth, sweetheart?” He asked as he looked down at you through his glasses. As an answer, you kept going until your jaw was sore.

Finally, you felt him twitch between your lips and shots of cum filled your throat. You let him go, and sat back on his thighs. “So good, baby.” He said as he kissed you softly.

His hand sneaked under your skirt, feeling your wetness through your underwear.

“I’ll have to do somethin’ about this.”

“Please, daddy.” You begged.

To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleedin'

After that night, even with the two of you sobered up, you found ways to see each other. You’d sneak around, go to fancy bars or restaurants your dad couldn’t afford. You’d kiss in his fancy truck. He was always a nice, gentle lover. But you could tell that your differences sometimes weighted on him.

He was tired that night, resting on the make-shift bed he installed in the box of his truck while you two looked at the stars. But you were restless, energy flowing through your young veins.

“Joel, I know you’re tired…” The name always felt wrong on your tongue, too intimate.

Joel took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Hmmm? What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

“I want you. You don’t have to do anything.” To punctuate your words, you kissed his scruffy jaw, the tense skin of his throat. “Let me take care of it – I just… Just need to get off on your dick, please.”

“You’re too generous with me.” He smiled, almost sleepily. “Use me baby. Always yours to use.” He said as he put his glasses back on, the thick black frames framing his beautiful eyes.

“Thank you.” You said breathlessly.

Around him, you always wore dresses or skirts for easier access; the nature of your relationship was pretty clear. While he relaxed beside you, you got yourself ready for him, your fingers crossing the barrier of your panties. Joel was looking at you, his hand stroking himself lazily through his pants. After wetness gushed around your fingers, you felt like you were ready. Joel barely undid his pants, just enough to pop his cock out.

With your panties slipped to the side, you sat on him, your back facing him. His strong hands took place on your hips, holding you while you lined his cock with your hole. When you felt comfortable, you bounced on him slowly. Behind you, you could hear his soft grunts. You used him like this until you met your own high, and kept going with more fervor until he spilled his seed between your walls.

I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

“We can’t keep going like this, sweetheart.”

He wasn’t his usual self; crinkles of worries distorted his face.

“…Why?” You stopped in your tracks and sat on his couch so you wouldn’t fall.

“You deserve someone who can fully commit. You deserve someone young, with whom you can experience life.” You felt the weight of him beside you, and on instinct, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You knew the exact moment your heart broke. “You have so much to learn.”

You pushed him away. “Stop treating me like a child, Joel.”

“Either way, sweetheart. This can’t work. It’s better to stop before you get too attached. M’sorry.”

You got up. “You should’ve indulged in my fantasies in the first place when you knew it couldn’t work.”

“You’re right. T’was wrong.”

You stopped listening after this. The walk to your car felt like a fever dream, and finally, when you were in front of your wheel, you let the tears fall. You thought he would stay. You thought he would care. More than your dad.

But he left.  

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

You were sitting in your backyard, staring up at the sky. Smoke filled your lungs. You breathed out like a dragon. You coughed until you felt a burning sensation, and then, pleasant emptiness. The smoke was the last reminder of the ghost of your relationship with Joel.

taglist: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @serenaxpedro @casa-boiardi @rav3n-pascal22 @dinsdjrn @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @johnwatsn @amanitacowboy @leeeesahhh @isitmelookin4u @javiscigarette @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sugarspiceanthrax @orphanbird95 @space-cowboy-like-me @tuquoquebrute @rsquared31 @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @atremises @sstarboy777 @undrthelights @butiknewyoudlinger @dayrdreaming @disassociation-daydreams @joelsversion @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mydailyhyperfixations @diamndx @mingiast @kdogreads @blxsphemy7 @marchai @littlevenicebitch69 @ghostofbrock @iwrotethissky @ladynightingale @jksprincess10 @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters

#Joel miller #joel miller smut #folklore anthology #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #joel miller x afab reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #dbf!joel #dad's boss!joel #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader

[tieronecrush]

the lakes

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 1.9k

summary:

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die / i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you / those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry / i'm setting off, but not without my muse

warnings: nudity, skinny dipping, talk about grief, death, family tension, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: my first song for the folklore anthology!! can’t wait to share others & read all the other great works from my pals <3

The sounds of birds chirping surround you in echoes across the valley, mountainous hills convexing in front of you and dotted with evergreens. Underneath you is sun-warmed sand, interspersed with smoothed rocks from rushing water shaping them over hundreds or thousands of years. The fresh, gentle waves of the lake lick against your bare feet, knees bent up as you sit at the shore, eyes trained ahead on the glassy surface reflecting the late summer sky above. Joel is sitting next to you in the same position, his hands joined together in a circle and forearms resting on his kneecaps.

It’d been a quiet hike to the spot you discovered while on patrol. Lately, Joel has been his own worst enemy — closed off to you, stewing in his thoughts about his strained relationship with Ellie and continuing to adjust to life in Jackson, a world so slow and still that he can’t seem to find a place he fits in after moving for so long. His inertia hasn’t caught up to his lifestyle change; he is constantly picking up patrol shifts, and volunteering to oversee new construction and renovations across the town, but even through his go go go, he can’t find a place to land.

This place was the perfect spot to take him; to abate the anxious energy that vibrates throughout him every day with the halcyon elements of nature. Animals that live their lives with no concept of time, a lesson in living in the present, trees that have been around for hundreds of years, solid and strong like the man himself, and the lake. The lake that provides for everything growing around it, that reflects beauty in sunrises and sunsets, that finds itself full no matter any barriers built in its feeding river, replenished by other means from rain to groundwater.

The silence between the two of you breaks for the first time in hours.

“You know what I first thought of you when I met you?” you question him, eyes trained forward on the view. Joel offers a soft grunt in response, hinting for you to continue.

“I thought: Wow, this guy is an asshole,” he scoffs with the hint of a smirk, shaking his head while your own grin plays at your lips, “But then, I got to know you. Forced proximity really tells you a lot about a person. And I very quickly learned how much you care. This world should have jaded you, should have broken you to the bone with what you have been through, but yet, you still find means to nurture. You protect, and you provide. You love so deeply, so incredibly much. Every day I wake up next to you, I thank the lucky stars that I have Joel Miller in my corner. By my side. Watching my back.”

“I know you are feeling something, thinking about something in that head of yours all the time. And I want you to know that I love you as deeply, that I care as much for you as you do for everyone in your life. You can share with me, whatever you feel like sharing.”

Joel is quiet, squinting in the sun as he tosses a round pebble from the sand between his legs into the shallow waters. The ripple appears and dissipates before he speaks.

“That sounded like a eulogy, darlin’.”

You scoff now, that same type of soft smirk that he held minutes before pulling the corners of your mouth up.

“Is that all you took from all of what I said?”

“No, ‘course not. Just, I don’t know, felt like I was listening to what you would say about me after I’m gone.” At that you turn towards him, hand wrapping around his nearest forearm and squeezing with even, steady pressure that says ‘We are not talking about that, I can’t talk about that.’

“I do wanna share with you, I just—I don’t know how. I’ve kept all this inside, locked down in my chest. Anger, temper, violence, even, as armor to keep me alive. Don’t ever think I’ve been very nurturing since, well, since…” His throat chokes up, head drops to stare at the ground. Another squeeze to his arm, this time to say ‘It’s okay. I know. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.’

Something that he said sticks out in your head, a means to attempt to combat his walls going up again now that they have crumbled slightly. You stand, glancing around out of habit before you pull your shirt over your head, your jeans following with your undergarments in their wake. Joel looks up, expression puzzled as he watches your naked form wade into the water. You hiss as the still-icy water engulfs you from the shoulders down, treading and turning back to your man on the shore. A gentle smile covers your face, beckoning him in with one nod of your head.

He follows suit with stripping down, clothes mixing in a pile with yours as they do on the floor of your bedroom. His own pained expression from the cold lake makes you giggle quietly, a scolding stare aimed your way. He paddles over to you smoothly, the water hitting his chest where he can continue to touch with his feet at the bottom. Your arms slither around his neck, wet fingers carding through the hair at the back of his head. The leverage against him is used to tug you closer, his large palms settling at your waist under the surface while the two of you bathe in the fresh Adam’s ale of these cliffside pools. Two pairs of eyes communicate without words, the soundtrack of the birds and rustling trees occupying the dead air until you speak again, hushed despite the fact that you are the only humans for miles.

“You can take your armor off around me.”

Joel’s eyes flutter closed, a long sigh exhaled as his hands grip your curves tighter. When his burnt chestnut and amber irises are revealed again, he speaks in the same reserved volume that you had.

“I don’t belong there. In Jackson.”

Silence gently urges him to carry on.

“What I’ve done, to strangers, to myself, to Tess, to you, to Tommy, to Ellie…I don’t deserve any chance at life. With what I have taken from others, I don’t deserve to be given anything. Kindness, respect, care, love. From anyone.”

“I’ve been selfish this whole twenty years. I almost left Tommy alone. I dragged us up north to Boston. I got Tess into smuggling. I kept Ellie at a distance for so long because I couldn’t bear to feel that kind of responsibility, that familial tie. And then I chose for her, in that hospital. I couldn’t lose another kid.”

“It—it feels like I should be over the past, over what I have done now that I have a chance at a fresh start, or as close to a fresh start as I could possibly have here in Jackson. I have a shot to build a life with you, to work for Ellie’s forgiveness, to be an uncle to Maria and Tommy’s baby. But what has been chasing me — what has been over — it feels like it’s burrowed under my skin. And all I can feel when I start to forget is these—these heartstopping waves of hurt.”

“And I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know how to forget when my body, my mind, my soul won’t let me.”

Across his cheeks, salty tears have carved rivers, the dampness still in his eyes shining in the midday sunlight. The water sounds as if it’s rushing in your ear, your pulse racing as you attempt to process his confession. His head has bowed in a prayer position, awaiting your means to reconciliation or absolution.

Hands settled on his broad shoulders, another communicative squeeze, this one to say ‘I don’t know either. But I know how to try.’

“You let your people heal you,” Joel’s eyes meet yours, drops cascading from the damp bits of hair hanging over his forehead, attention completely and utterly on you, “Time can’t fix everything. The past can hold us in its grip even with all the time in the world. But people can help you forget. They can help to lessen the pain in your body until it’s merely a pinch. Their love can pull you up when you fall. Their care can nurture your soul to grow resilient again. Their reassurance can teach your mind to hear those sordid thoughts you have but pay them no attention.”

“I want to do this for you, Joel. I want to help you. To care for you. To love you, completely. Your people want to do it for you. And if you can learn from experience, you can do it for Ellie…” Your hands move from his shoulder, skating across his glistening skin and wrapping around the sides of his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw.

“You made choices you had to. Including for Ellie. She was — she is a child. Your kid, if not by blood. She may not understand now, but I know she will find a means to forgive you, or at least understand you.”

“Maybe when she’s older, if she has a kid of her own, she’ll understand.”

Joel’s mouth quips to one side with a faint smile, tears drying on his cheeks as he thinks of the image.

“Reckon we’d be pretty fun, well, sorta grandparents.”

“I think so, too,” you speak with a grin stretched and thumbs brushing back and forth at his jaw, “I can’t wait to grow old with you. To sit on the porch and watch you still yell across the street to your brother for full conversations instead of the two getting off of your asses —”

“Watch it, darlin’,” he warns playfully.

“Hey, it’s true. I listen to it nearly every day. Now, back to what I was imagining, cowboy.”

He nods for you to continue, a full-blown smile on his face.

“We’ll have Ellie over weekly dinners, and whoever else makes up her family. You’ll play me guitar and sing whenever I ask ‘cause you love me so much. I’ll help to heal you, and we will be happy together. We will take our second chance. And you will enjoy your time with your family. And me, hopefully.”

“Definitely with you. My beautiful girl,” his own hand leaves the water, wetting your hair as he brushes it out of your face with tender eyes, “You’re like—like a red rose that’s grown out of my ice-frozen ground. I am so lucky to have you. That you chose me, and continue to choose me every damn day. My grief sometimes feels insurmountable; like I am going to be stuck here forever with no way out of that feeling. But if I get stuck here, with you in my arms and all my people around me, I’d be fine if I simply grow old and wither away back into the earth.”

“I love you, darlin’. So much it might just end in tragedy, that my heart might just explode from lookin’ at you one day. But I do love you.”

A gentle kiss is shared between the two of you, the bitter water combined with your torrid love stirring up a tornado of tingling nerves.

You pull away, only enough to get the words out that you have told him, Joel, your man, every day and will continue to tell him every day you have him, “I love you.”

taglist: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @serenaxpedro @casa-boiardi @rav3n-pascal22 @dinsdjrn @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @johnwatsn @amanitacowboy @leeeesahhh @isitmelookin4u @javiscigarette @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sugarspiceanthrax @orphanbird95 @space-cowboy-like-me @tuquoquebrute @rsquared31 @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @atremises @sstarboy777 @undrthelights @butiknewyoudlinger @dayrdreaming @disassociation-daydreams @joelsversion @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mydailyhyperfixations @diamndx @mingiast @kdogreads @blxsphemy7 @marchai @littlevenicebitch69 @ghostofbrock @iwrotethissky @ladynightingale @jksprincess10 @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters

#joel #writing #folklore anthology #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[fkevin073]

a single thread of gold tied me to you. 

#tloudaily #hbotlou #tlounetwork #the last of us #tvedit #Taylor swift #folklore #pedropascaledit #Ellie williams #bella ramsey #Joel miller #Ellie and joel #tlouhboedit #dailyflicks #smallscreensource #I love a father-daughter duo #tlou spoilers #userfkevin

[beskarandblasters]

oh hi 😉👋

myself, @swiftispunk, @tieronecrush, @jksprincess10 & @proxima-writes are working on something special for you guys!

coming soon is folklore, a joel miller story!

each song will have its own fic and each fic will be it’s own separate story! none of the fics will go together so think of it more like an anthology! you can read them in any order you choose!

like this post if you’d like to be added to the tag list 🩶🩶🩶

keep an eye out for the masterlist being posted soon!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #folklore #folklore taylor swift #joel miller fanfic #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x gn reader #folklore anthology

[thelightsandtheroses]

I’m still working on my first Joel Miller fic and it’s slow (plus work was super super busy last week) but on the plus side, my playlist is *chefs kiss* Thank you, The Last of Us for reigniting my Civil Wars and 90s alternative love as well as so many songs that just say TLOU or Joel Miller in my head

#writing #Joel miller #the last of us #there’s a lot of Taylor swift too #Joel is very folklore and evermore coded right?

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plot: It’s been twenty years since Joel and Y/n parted ways with a farewell so crushing, they were sure it would last forever. Now, fate brings them back together in the form of a 14-year old named Ellie and forces them to set aside their past in order to secure the future.

Warnings: M for violence, gore, language, implied smut, and adult themes (16+)

————

Chapter One: Reunited

Chapter Two: Strangers In The Night

Chapter Three: Out On The Town

Chapter Four: Luck

Chapter Five: Soundtrack of Life

Chapter Six: Road Trip

Chapter Seven: Hands

Chapter Eight: Someone’s Something

Chapter Nine: Dry Your Tears

Chapter Ten: September 26th, 2003

Chapter Eleven: Almost

Chapter Twelve: As We Were, As We Are

Chapter Thirteen: Carry You Home

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Innocence

Chapter Fifteen: Room for Three

Chapter Sixteen: The Great Sin

Chapter Seventeen: Twenty Years Later

Post-S1

One Shot #1: The Little Things

One Shot #2: Symptoms of Survival

One Shot #3: Talking to the Sky

One Shot #4: The Artist Formerly Known As Joel Miller

——————

playlists

creations: moodboard by @nairafeather

Q + As + Headcanons:

Rosebud’s Age

Alternate Scenes

Alternate Ending (no Cordyceps)

Alternate Breakup (concept)

Joel and Rosebud + pregnant in Jackson (AU)

Joel and Rosebud + single mom (AU)

Joel and Rosebud + fights

Joel and Rosebud + cheating

Joel and Rosebud + meeting after Outbreak

Joel and Rosebud + pregnancy

Joel and Rosebud + baby names

Joel and Rosebud + accidentally injuring one another

Rosebud + leaving Joel post-Outbreak

Rosebud + joining the Fireflies

Rosebud + dating before Joel/meeting Joel pre-Austin

Rosebud + Taylor Swift songs

Joel and Rosebud + folklore

Joel and Rosebud + music

What if…Tommy and Rosebud?

Joel and Rosebud + multi-fandom ships

Rosebud + fancast

Harry Potter houses

#chapter two tomorrow so get hyped #also comment if you’d like to be tagged #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #twenty years later

[studioghibelli]

moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader

summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?

warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)

The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.

With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.

As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.

Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.

He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.

You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.

Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.

Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.

Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.

He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.

And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.

Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.

By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.

You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.

"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.

"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.

Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.

His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.

It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.

Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.

Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.

"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.

The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.

Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.

Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.

What was that about?

Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.

"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.

"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."

"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"

"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."

Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.

With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."

"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.

A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.

He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.

"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.

"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.

He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.

You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."

"What?"

"You're... you're very close to me."

"Do you want me to move? I can."

You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.

A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."

"And what do I want, Professor?"

You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.

You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.

If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"

"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.

"How did you know?"

"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"

"No."

"Then let me taste you, let me have you."

"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.

"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.

"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.

"I know. But you never answered mine."

"What-.... what question?"

"What do you think I am?"

"You know what I think."

"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.

"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.

"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."

"You're a vampire."

"You're right."

A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.

He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.

"Will you bite me?"

"Bite... you?"

"Please."

Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."

"To me?"

"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.

"How old are you?"

"Very old."

A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."

He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"

"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."

Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.

"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.

"Then I'll give you more."

In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.

"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.

"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.

He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.

You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.

You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.

"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.

"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.

"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.

His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.

His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.

Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.

"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.

He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.

"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.

"Oh, I will."

Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.

"Take me."

"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.

He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.

Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.

"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.

"I'm yours."

"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."

You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.

"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."

You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.

Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"

"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.

"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.

He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.

You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.

Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.

Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.

"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.

"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."

Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.

His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.

"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.

"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."

"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.

"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"

"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.

You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"

"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."

Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."

He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."

"Yes. A date."

And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.

#joel miller x reader #studioghibelli #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou au #tlou fic #joel x reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrostories #vampire #vampire au #au #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

[dejwrld]

CHOSOIST PRESENTS....LET'S PLAY W/ DEJA #KINKTOBER

of the words of berleezy, i'm a gamer...i do this. the do in question is thirst and thinking about getting bent over by your favorite video game characters. deciding to mix this year's (technically my first every kinktober) up and step away from my animanga roots. so ladies, gents, & non-binaries angels, this year's kinktober is dedicated to some of my favorite video game characters. — TAG LIST FORM

𝐋𝐄𝐓❜𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐒

OCTOBER 2ND-OCTOBER 7TH

( F*CK JOEL MILLER, LITERALLY ) 🎮 JOEL MILLER X FIREFLIES MEMBER!READER

— after a quite interesting run in with joel and ellie, you're stuck with them through the long journey to ensure ellie get to the fireflies in one piece. through bickering and nearly getting them killed, with a bottle of old whiskey and the moonlight shining down on you—joel miller shows you just how much he hate your guts.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, firefly!reader, power dynamic, mentions of reader technically being held hostage by joel, mean dom!joel, oral (m.receiving), profanity, reader literally has the smartest & dirtiest mouth, age gap between reader and joel but nothing too big, alcohol consumption, spit usage, takes place during 1st tlou game, reader & ellie banter

CLICK HERE TO WATCH

( DEMON TIME) 🎮 INCUBUS!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X READER

— game synopsis: your boyfriend has been quite neglectful when it comes to your needs. not particularly being the best book boyfriend similar to the books you've read. but the one demon that visits you in your dreams seem to give you everything you need.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, mentions of reader having a boyfriend, doggystyle, unprotected sex, dirty talk (simon calls reader a slut), mentions of wet dreams, pillow humping, monsterfucking, mentions of simon having horns

CLICK HERE TO WATCH

OCTOBER 9TH-OCTOBER 14TH

( GUARDIAN ANGEL ) 🎮 GUARDIAN ANGEL!SEPHIROTH X READER

— game synopsis: he's been your guardian angel since you were sixteen years old. protecting you from danger you didn't see coming, but now that you're slowly wanting space from him—he makes it his mission to remind you who you belong to until you take your final breath.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, slight enemies to fuckers, reader somewhat purposely put herself in danger, possessive!sephiroth, mentions of sephiroth having pretty white wings, mating press position, cream pies, mentions of soul ties,

CLICK HERE TO WATCH

( COLD AS ICE ) 🎮 SUB ZERO!KUAI LIANG X SIREN!READER

— being the handmaiden of the grandmaster of the lin kuei has its perks. although you feel like an odd one out in a winter storm, your bond with the cold grandmaster seems familiar. as if you've experienced it before.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, takes place in the mortal kombat timeline where kuai liang is the lin kuei grandmaster, clit play, ice play, temperature play, mentions of reader & kuai being multi timeline lovers, reader has siren powers, fingering, edging, slight exhibitionism,

CLICK HERE TO WATCH

OCTOBER 16TH-21ST

( BIG BAD WOLF ) 🎮 BIGBY WOLF X RED RIDING HOOD!READER

— game synopsis: bigby wolf has to juggle being the sheriff holding the fables together in the busy city of new york, but now a former prey returns to the city stirring up trouble & bigby's primal past.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, mentions of folklores, marking kink, blood kink, primal kink, mentions of infidelity (bigby is dating snow/snow white), takes place after first the wolf among us game (spoilers may be included), cunt slaps, witty nicknames being said during intercourse (reader calls bigby the big bad wolf), reader is new in town, slight established relationship between bigby & reader

CLICK HERE TO WATCH

OCTOBER 31ST

🎮 BONUS PLAYTHROUGHS

⸻ short game plays to savor your sweet tooth from your favorite halloween candy

— ellie williams x reader, trick n treat ( fem reader, oral [reader receiving], dirty talk, thigh marks )

— jin sakai x reader ( female reader, arranged marriage trope, virginity lost )

— leon kennedy x reader ( female reader, doggy style position, marijuana usage )

CLICK HERE TO WATCH

#video games smut #video games x reader #female reader #cod x reader #cod smut #tlou x reader #tlou smut #mortal kombat x reader #black reader #angelshubnetwork #mortal kombat smut #final fantasy x reader #resident evil smut #final fantasy smut #resident evil x reader #twau smut #twau x reader #female reader smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #black reader smut

[proxima-writes]

just a lil title art for the first part of “my tears ricochet” 👀

pairing: husband’s best friend!joel miller x female reader

summary:

Your fiancé is too busy to help with wedding planning and suggests you ask his childhood best friend, Joel Miller, instead. Falling in love with Joel was never your intention.

We gather stones, never knowing what they’ll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

tags/warnings:

ANGST, explicit sexual content, emotional abuse, infidelity, friends to lovers, secret relationship, alcoholism, drug abuse, death

art is “nelle fiamme” by denholm berry

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #coming soon #folklore anthology #my tears ricochet

[ellies-enrichment]

joels so bad at telling jokes ellie thought he was asking

#the last of us #hbo the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #hbo tlou #memes #mine #if i ever were to lose queue #incorrect tlou quotes #queue posting a bunch of stuff currently so heres my tag rambles #im listening to cardigan right now #and that bridge is my favorite on folklore i think

[jksprincess10]

Epiphany || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Your new neighbor is a war veteran with a lot of scars. (1k words)

CW: AU where Joel is in the military, age gap, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, allusions to smut, suicidal thoughts, sad ending. Beware!! 

A/N: Ngl I’m nervous to post this one cause I never wrote anything like this but yeah... have a good cry guys. 

Folklore anthology

Keep your helmet, keep your life, son Just a flesh wound, here's your rifle

Crawling up the beaches now "Sir, I think he's bleeding out" And some things you just can't speak about

The front porch of your grandmother’s house was your oasis. In the egg-shaped chair, you spent your break days reading, while your grandma knitted by your side. The neighborhood was usually quiet. Except today, a big moving truck was parked in front of the house to your right. The house had been for sale for a while – it was too small for a family, but it seemed like it finally found its owner.

You looked up from your book to see two men unloading boxes. One of them had longer black hair, freckles, a warm smile and a clean-shaven face. The other one, a bit older, had fluffy, short hair, a scruffy, greying beard and a strong nose. They were both very handsome. They both had darker skin, like farm workers who spent days outside.

“Didn’t know we had new neighbors, grams.” You said. Your grandmother barely looked up from her needles.

“Yes. Heard it’s a man who’s alone. Very handsome, but poor thing… had a rough life.”

You could always count on your grandma and her friends from bingo to tell you all the gossip.

“Yeah?”

“He served in the military, but he had to retire early. Bad mental health issues. Divorce, and all… He moved here to work with his brother in construction instead.”

“Sounds rough.”

“Hmhm. We’ll bring him some pie later, what do you think, sweets?”

“It’s a good idea, grams.” You agreed.

**

Later in the evening, after the moving truck left, you knocked at your new neighbor’s door. Your grandmother gave you the task of bringing the pie – poor old woman was already asleep.

The man with the scruffy beard you saw earlier opened the door, wearing joggers and a shirt that tightly hugged his muscles. He looked tired, dark circles deeply set under his pretty brown eyes.

“Hi. I live next door with my grandma. She…  made this apple pie to welcome you in the neighborhood. ”

“Thank you darlin’, that’s real nice. I’m afraid I can’t this eat all by myself, wanna join?”

“S-Sure !” You said as he took the pie from your hands. “It should still be warm.”

You followed him into the kitchen, where he cut two generous pieces for the two of you. You took a look around while you waited awkwardly. It was a nice, old house, and there were still boxes everywhere.

“I’m Joel, by the way.” He said as he tasted some of the pie on his fingers.

You told him your name and your grandmother’s.

“Young thing like ya, livin’ with your grandma?” He had a strong drawl, he was probably from the south, you assumed.

“Yeah, she’s my favorite person in the world.” You smiled. “She was lonely after grandpa died.” You exclaimed as you took a first bite of your grandmother’s still warm apple pie. “So I moved in with her and found a job at the bookstore nearby.”

“Don’t go to school or anythin’?”

“Never really found something that I was passionate about. And at 25… I’m too old to go back.”

“I see.”

“You don’t look too old yourself.” You commented. Sure, you could see a bit of grey in his hair, but he had a youthful face.

“Pushin’ 40.” He sighed.

“You don’t look 40.”

“I feel 80.” He chuckled as he ate more of the pie.

“How so?”

“Years of military and stress put a toll on my body.”

You couldn’t help but admire the strength of said body. “I see. What do you do now?”

“Construction, with my brother Tommy.”

You both finished your pieces in a comfortable silence.

“Well… I’ll see you around, Joel. Don’t hesitate if you need help with anything.” You said as you left.

“Thanks, darlin’. Tell me if ya need any work on your grandma’s house… and tell her thanks for the pie.”

**

After that, you exchanged small talk with Joel every time you saw him. He was a charming man, even your grandmother loved him. Weeks later, you were working in your garden, when you heard an unfamiliar voice in your neighbor’s yard. It sounded like a teenage girl. You finished shovelling the dirt and laid the shovel on the ground as you looked curiously in your neighbor’s yard’s direction. You could easily see through the white metal gate.

He was sitting in his yard with a girl. When he saw you, his eyes lit up and he waved.

“Oh, hey Joel. Didn’t mean to spy on you.” You said through the gate. “Who’s this pretty girl?”

“You’re good, darlin’. She’s my daughter, Sarah.” He punctuated his words with a caress of the girl’s thick curls. She waved shyly at you.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

**

Hours later, you met him outside again. 

“Care to join?” He asked, beer lifted towards the stars.

You laughed. “Yes.”

You climbed up the gate and landed in Joel’s yard. You sat on his patio while he grabbed a beer for you.

“Is Sarah already gone?”

“Yeah.” A shadow on his handsome, youthful face. “She can just visit. Her mother says I’m not stable enough to keep her longer.”

“I’m sorry.” You drank the bitter liquid. “Are you?”

Joel chuckled.

“Wish I was, darlin’. Feels like I can have 20 minutes of solid sleep every night. Wish my dreams weren’t filled with… landmines and dead soldiers. The doctor gave me pills, and they help but… I feel like I’ll never be myself again.”

“Then… find a new person to be.” You smiled, and hit your bottle with his. “You have so many years in front of you.” 

“Hope you’re right, hun’.”

Comfortable silence for a while. The croaks of frogs in the fields. The buzzing mosquitoes clinging to every light. The swallowing.

“Did you tell your grandma thank you for everything she does?”

After the pie, your grandma always brought leftover food to Joel to make sure he ate, and she even invited him to dinner sometimes. 

“Hmhm. Said you were a charming young man.” You looked at the stars for a few seconds, then at Joel. “I think so too.”

Bottles getting pushed to the side. Plush lips meeting. Desperate whispers of affection. Stumbling in the house while holding onto the other person. Clothes disappearing. Moans, hymn of a newly found love.

He was holding you close, an arm thrown around your waist as he was coming down from his own high. He was warm, strong, secure.  So strong physically, but so fragile inside.

You witnessed for the first time his fight with sleep. It was a violent one. He tossed, turned, screamed. You hushed him back to sleep every time, holding him, becoming the strong and secure one.

He fell again and again. Every night.

With you, I serve

With you, I fall down, down

Watch you breathe in

Watch you breathing out, out

And one day, he fell during daylight. You held him as he was crouched over a torn letter.

“She doesn’t want me to see our daughter anymore.” You rarely saw men cry. You thought it was socially ingrained in them not to. But Joel was sobbing, strong shoulders trembling.  “She got a court order and all.”

“We’ll fix this, Joel. Breathe, please.”

He had a hand over his heart, feeling it physically breaking. Ribcage so tight, no air coming out. You witnessed an angry phone call. Soft voice on the other end saying horrible things.

“ – She doesn’t wanna see you anymore, Joel. You scare her. She wants her dad from before… If you don’t go to therapy and work things out, she won’t see you.”

He yelled a broken cry as you kissed his temple.

Only 20 minutes to sleep But you dream of some epiphany Just one single glimpse of relief

Lights in the middle of the night. Tires stopping abruptly. Cops. So many cops. Blaring alarms of an ambulance.

The whole neighborhood came out to witness the paramedics coming in and getting out with a covered body.

You recognized the side of his body – who else could it have been?  You screamed and undid your body from your grandmother’s tight embrace, running like a mad woman to the police officers.

“Please, tell me what happened… ”

They didn’t listen.

“PLEASE. I’m his girlfriend.”

The sorry looks on their faces gave it away.

No.

No.

How is it possible.

I told him he had so many years left.

**

You held the letter in your hands as the ghost of your love lingered around the house. You realized you had seen every crack in his soul, but never his handwriting.

“Darling,

Please, don’t think this is your fault. I was already broken before you came into my life. You did make it more bearable for a few months and I’m grateful for it.

But I couldn’t keep going like this. I’m tired. I’m sorry for leaving you.

You have so many years left. Make this life good.

Tell your grandma I said thanks.

I love you,

Joel.”

#folklore anthology #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

[tieronecrush]

exile

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 3.1k

summary:

i think i've seen this film before / and i didn't like the ending / i'm not your problem anymore / so who am i offending now? / you were my crown / now i'm in exile, seein' you out / i think I've seen this film before / so i'm leavin' out the side door

warnings: break up, discussion about closure or lack there of, talk about grief, death, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: second fic for the folklore anthology!! hope you all enjoy, sorry for the sadness lol <3

It’s an early start — the crisp early spring air swirls around in gusts while the fresh blanket of dew squishes under his boots as he walks over to the stables. Lilac skies watercolor above, the last of the winter dawn painting yellowed strokes across the horizon as the sun rises, reflecting against the thirst-quenched earth.

Billows of his tepid breath puff in front of him, walking through the warmth of each exhale as he makes his way forward and across the paddock to the stalls. Rubber soles scuff onto rough concrete under the cover of the roof, neighs of horses and huffs of their breath vibrating their lips the only sound that fills his ears when he looks down the aisle to see you. Standing in the pen that holds Shimmer, Ellie’s beloved mare, you brush her chestnut coat as you prep to saddle each animal for the incoming patrol shift.

Joel meanders down the walkway over to the stable across from you that holds his own horse, Old Beardy, which he bonded with over lengthy patrol shifts. After the horse that Tommy had loaned them to reach Colorado, Callus, was killed by David and his men, Joel had chosen a similarly colored one in Old Beardy. It was another painful reminder he forced upon himself of what he had gone through — what Ellie had gone through — and what he did to get her through it. He never wanted to forget, not that he thought he ever could, and this was a small piece that added up to keep him weighed down by his choices and guilt every day.

It was that same guilt that burrows into his chest now as he looks at you while he saddles his horse. Nothing is spoken, not even a glance sent his way; completely ignored, the cold shoulder chilling him more than the early morning temperature. 

You had left him a few weeks ago now — completely blindsided him when you sat him down in his living room and broke another crack into his heart. At that point, he didn’t think it was possible to feel any more fragmented than he did for the last twenty years, but you quickly became another piece of his heart destroyed by his actions. It had to have been something he did, what it was he doesn’t have a clue. But with the way you cared for him, loved him for that fleeting time, he would have never chosen to give that up and he couldn’t see a reason why you would either.

He had to know.

It was keeping him up at night — that and his nightmares that seem to have never ceased. Around here, he doesn’t have his knockout combination of pills and alcohol to keep his ghosts at bay, so he’s faced with them every evening, creeping in along with the midnight.

You would help him, talk him through, remind him of the good in him, even though he never fully believed you.

He misses you.

He loves you.

Crossing the aisle again after slipping out of the stable of his horse, he takes a breath before leaning his arms onto the walled gate that separates the two of you. Breaking the fragile silence that floated in the air for the last few minutes, Joel speaks lowly despite you two being the only ones around.

“Morning.”

Silence.

“Need any help with the horses?”

More silence, the thud of the leather saddle being thrown over Shimmer’s back clapping in the stale air. 

He persists.

“Now I know you probably don’t wanna hear anything from me, peach, but I just gotta ask you — what happened? To us. I’ve been wracking my brain to try to figure it out, but—but I gotta admit, darlin’, I thought things were alright. That we were starting a peaceful life together.”

He lifts his arms off of the gate, standing up straight as he waves one arm out in a gesture toward his house — the house that you used to spend every single night in, the pieces of you strewn throughout. Flowers on the kitchen table, dog-eared books on the couch, clothes thrown onto the floor and into his hamper, your favorite lavender soap from the apothecary withering away in his shower marking the time you two were together. It sits untouched now, still as full as the last time you used it, another reminder of your absence.

“But then, just out of the blue, you were gone. You took just five whole minutes to neatly pack up the loose ends of us, talkin’ to me as you grabbed all your things from my house, wiping the presence of you completely. And when you left me standin’ in the hall, you left me with it, that guilt. And all I could do was just stand there with all this love that I needed to give to you, watching you walk away without any goddamn clue as to why you were leaving. It wasn’t fucking fair.”

Joel crosses the threshold of the stall, standing only a few feet away from you as his frustrations begin to fully air, slithering out of him with venom laced behind his tone. He doesn’t want to feel this angry, this upset. But this hurt in his chest hasn’t been felt for years and it’s killing him, squeezing everything in him out.

“And now,” he nearly growls out, “Now I hear around town you got some other man around for you. That you got over us so quickly, found someone new to spend your time with. Did I really mean that little? To be able to tidy up real quick and move on?”

A laugh barks out at that — he can see it on your face how ridiculous you think whatever he said, something he said in all that was. It only fuels the fire inside of him, boiling up to his ears and over to the point he must have steam coming out of him.

What the fuck was so funny?

Here he was, being honest about his feelings and you were laughing.

The steel toe of one of his boots knocks against the wooden walls as he kicks it gently, turned away as he starts to listen to you open the floodgates. Your hands pause their work, turning away from the toasted brown horse to face him fully. Hands on your hips and head tilted to one side, your stare burns the back of his neck as he stands away.

“Really, Joel? There’s nothing you can understand about why I might have left you?” Your eyebrows furrow with your own fury, deep creases that he has only seen from concern for him, his wellbeing, and Ellie’s. Anger is a new look on you, and it isn’t one he is feeling fond of causing for you. That storm of guilt rumbles inside of him; another reason to hate himself for making you feel something you rarely do, making you into something you’re not — bitter.

“Also, I don’t really think you’ve got a right to be upset with me and bringing up that stupid shit bein’ said around town. I left the bar with one guy, one time. The rumor mill snatched up that story from the few people that saw us leave. Didn’t even go home with him cause I couldn’t stop seeing you like a fucking ghost. I left and you are still consuming my brain. I still wonder every day if you’re okay; if you’re still even here.”

That whips his head over his shoulder, the fracturing of his heart felt even deeper, a cut to his bones from your words. He never knew that you knew — what he had tried years ago. Admittedly, the thought crossed his mind again once, and only once. It quickly dissipated when you stepped into his room, your tender smile eager to tell him about your day. He loved listening to you, being a sounding board and an observer. How could he ever give that up? How could he ever hurt you?

Apparently, he didn’t need to wonder anymore. He did that without even realizing it.

Mouth agape as you continue, crease between his brows shadowed as he takes a step closer to you, the pull of your red-hot rage driving him nearer to your molten center. It was the one way to feel your warmth again, even if it was more like burning at that point.

“I can’t believe that you would even give that gossip a second thought. Must be grasping at straws there. But I guess that proves my point, the reason that I left.”

You turn away to handle the animal again, shaking your head wildly and rolling your eyes at yourself. His own frustrations bubble again, another step closer as he walks around your shoulder to your field of vision. A head tilt of his own, a nonchalant shrug.

“And how do you figure that, darlin’? Please, enlighten me,” his words cut into the air, attempting to antagonize you in a subconscious effort to keep you talking, to keep you around.

“God, that’s so fucking rich coming from you, Joel. Wanting explanations, wanting me to open up so you can understand. That’s why I left. I tried so hard to get you to open up to me, to let me in, and to be even the smallest bit vulnerable. I wanted you to show me that you trusted me. When I met you before you left with Ellie, things felt different. And when you came back, you had been getting more and more closed off the longer we were spending time together. I don’t know what happened out there if something happened between you and Ellie, and I don’t need all the details, but I needed something. And I gave you so many chances — second, third, hundredth chances to give me something that could show me you trust me or could even grow to trust me, but that didn’t come. All I wanted was to help you, Joel. I care about you so much. I loved you. But it didn’t seem like you felt the same. Never told me you felt the same.”

A step away from him, arms around your chest to protect your heart — from him? From breaking again? He didn’t know you needed the words; he tried to show you through his actions, his touch, the care he took of you. Words never came easy to him, actions did.

“And now, you’re being this fucking alpha, masculine man stomping in here and talkin’ to me about how you hear I was with some guy. Actin’ like I’m just trying to make you jealous like he was some understudy or rebound. Well, nothing happened like I said, so you can wipe off the face that looks like you’re gonna go get your knuckles bloody for me.”

The crease in his brow resolves, the sour twist of his lips relaxing as he drops his head in shame. You were right, always right. He would knock the lights out of the guy if you said one more word — if you said that you had moved on for real.

“All of it, still being around you and being reminded of you all the time, it feels like I’m trying to balance again on breaking branches. And every time I see you around, in person or in my head like a shadow following me around, those eyes — your stupid brown eyes pleading with me, they just add insult to injury.”

“I wanted to help you, Joel, to just be there to help you mend, even a little bit. But you never gave me a chance.”

A sigh slips from his lips, barely audible. You turn away as he steps toward you, tender eyes and gentle touch resting on your shoulder. When you don’t recoil, one of his rough, work-worn hands grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your head to meet his eyes as he quietly speaks, lower than the whole conversation has been.

“I never knew that is what you were worried about, darlin’. I’m fine, there wasn’t anything that happened between Ellie and I ‘cept that ambush at the hospital that I told you about. I didn’t think I was actin’ any differently than before.”

A scoff, shaking your head out of his grasp and pushing your hands against his chest to separate. You slip away, crossing the stall to grab more gear to dress the horse in.

“You are unbelievable.”

Now he’s really getting annoyed.

“What? What is so unbelievable?” His voice booms, echoing a bit in the empty horse barn, biting back his tongue as you close your eyes tightly. He opens his mouth to apologize for raising his voice, but your raised hand stops him.

“It’s obvious you are not fine, Joel, and you can’t even admit it now after I’ve told you that all I wanted was for you to be open. You can stop running. Slow down. Live. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself in silence.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, looking away as he works his jaw back and forth before he turns to you again, “I couldn’t read your mind! All this time, I never learned to read your mind. I can’t read Ellie’s mind — I can’t figure it out with either of you. Two of the most important people, two of the handful of people that I am still around for, have distanced themselves from me and I can’t seem to pull myself together to figure it out. I feel like I’m drowning out here on my own and I’m not even being thrown a fucking life raft. You never gave me time to turn things around, you never gave me a warning sign of what was goin’ on.”

The tightness in your shoulders falls, curling you smaller into yourself, and there goes another crack in his heart. Broken like old pavement when the Earth shifts, takes destroying it all to rebuild it.

Tired. You look so tired, and he aches with the thought that he’s exhausted you, even away. What is he going to do if he is open with you? Isn’t he going to be more of a burden?

No, he wouldn’t let himself. He would be honest with you. But there is no expectation that he could be fixed, that you could shoulder any of this weight he’s carried for twenty years. It’s lighter to him now, endurance built to keep himself under it without getting crushed.

“Joel…I gave so many signs. I checked in with you every day, I asked you directly how you were doing. A lot of the time, after long days, you’d be so short with me. Either annoyed or just brushing me off and changing the subject. So when asking you didn’t work, I tried to open up more myself to try to get you to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. You would just listen and move on. Nothing inspired you to give me even a little sliver of yourself, of your heart. I closed myself off more and more cause it felt like I was prying with someone who couldn’t even care less about me. You didn’t even notice that we didn’t touch, we didn’t kiss, we were barely intimate with each other in those last few weeks — we completely drifted, Joel. I tried to give you so many signs before I couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even see the signs.”

Thoughts and memories rewind in his head like an old tape, picking up patterns in himself and in you that he has been too blind to see. All he wanted was to move on, sweep it under the rug and live whatever life he could with you, with Ellie.

“I’m sorry, peach. I am so sorry. I swear on my fucking grave that I had no idea this was all happening for you — I was too in my own head. My heart is hurtin’ so much without you around; knowing I did something to push you away. And hearing what you were holdin’ in ‘cause I was bein’ too closed, too selfish to see what was wrong? It is destroyin’ me. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am.”

No response is given to him. He watches as you bend your arms, lifting them to press the backs against your eyes. They turn and run over your face, an ache in him to reach his own out to pull yours away, replace them with his own to hold your beautiful face again. When he speaks up again, he sounds like a child — soft, pleading for the punishment to end.

“Could you ever, I don’t know how to ask this really, but could you ever give me another chance? Would you?”

His eyes are glossing over, vision blurring slightly at the edges as you meet his gaze. A deep, exhausted sigh rolls from your chest, head shaking back and forth as your stare leaves him, running a million yards away somewhere.

“I—God, I don’t know, Joel. It felt like I was just there to give you comfort when you wanted it, when you thought you needed it, and that was it. That was my purpose to you. That you didn’t even want to try to open up, to build trust or anything between us. Things would really have to change for me to feel ready to try again.”

Another step brings him a foot away from you, the itch in his fingers too much to ignore anymore as he guides his hand up, caressing your cheek and brushing his thumb along the line of the high bone there.

“Sweetheart, honey, I’ll be better. If you give me another chance, I’m gonna do better by you. Gonna try more. I promise, peach. I’m not gonna fuck this up.”

Eyes flutter shut under his touch, the weight of your head falling into his gentle care a bit heavier.

When they open again, he can see resolve has been built. A defensive wall put back up after leaning in too much into the temptation of jumping back into the deep end.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Selfishly, he wishes you would just jump, dive into his waters with him so you can offer him a lifeline.

“Of course, peach. You come ‘round whenever you wanna talk. I’m gonna be there for you. Whenever.”

His lips press to your hairline, large hand stroking at the back of your head before he pulls away and exits the stall, crossing over to lead Old Beardy out of the stables to mount for patrol.

With his back to you, he doesn’t see the shaky breath you take, composure crumbling as you lean your head against the leather saddle, teardrops littering the surface.

taglist: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @serenaxpedro @casa-boiardi @rav3n-pascal22 @dinsdjrn @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @johnwatsn @amanitacowboy @leeeesahhh @isitmelookin4u @javiscigarette @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sugarspiceanthrax @orphanbird95 @space-cowboy-like-me @tuquoquebrute @rsquared31 @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @atremises @sstarboy777 @undrthelights @butiknewyoudlinger @dayrdreaming @disassociation-daydreams @joelsversion @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mydailyhyperfixations @diamndx @mingiast @kdogreads @blxsphemy7 @marchai @littlevenicebitch69 @ghostofbrock @iwrotethissky @ladynightingale @jksprincess10 @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @northernbluess

#writing #joel #folklore anthology #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

[always-andromeda]

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1182

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Once upon a time, Joel Miller was the love of your life. Life, however, got in the way.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I got to write this piece for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge. This song is one of my favorites off of Folklore and so I was immediately inspired by the prompt!! I highly recommend taking a look at the rest of the challenge masterlist too and sending the other creators on there some love!! Gorgeous divider by @saradika-graphics!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), nipple play, fingering, pet names, reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, spans from pre-outbreak to post-outbreak, mentions of guns, bits and pieces of angst, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Your youth was defined by Joel Miller. All of those delicate parts of yourself that you pretended not to see…he stared straight into the eye of the storm and protected the fragility within it. The most important thing about Joel: he was patient. To an almost frustrating degree.

He taught you how to drive with the stick shift in his beat up pickup truck. Afterwards, he showed you how to kiss properly. His hand cupping the back of your neck, he gazed at you through his lashes and asked if it was okay to kiss you. His voice smooth like molasses, you had no choice but to nod before immediately pressing your lips to his.

Even back then, Joel was a working man. His hands were rough with calluses, his mouth was filthy, and he put them both to good use. As he laid you across the bench seat of his truck, somewhere deep in your belly, you believed you could trust him. 

You supposed it was exciting for him, showing you how things were done. How a man could really use his hands to tell a woman exactly how he felt. The best Joel’s words could do came in the form of his sweet pet names.

Darlin’. Pretty girl. Baby. Honey.

Each of them wrapped up in his velvety tone and delivered specially for you. Sure, he spoiled you, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

On your twenty-first birthday, he was there for your first drink. He slowly nursed his beer, making sure to keep a level head as you danced around the bar. No matter how hard you attempted to throw yourself at him, he kept his hands to himself. And as soon as you started to get sleepy he drove you home and tucked you in before passing out on your living room couch.

The morning after he was teaching you even more. How to handle a hangover. How Joel sounded rasping, “Happy birthday, honey,” against the column of your throat. How to come with just his hands on your tits.

The trick was a nice, slow buildup. He’d pinch and pull at a nipple before leaning down to press kisses to it. You’d gasp as his teeth grazed your skin ever so slightly and a laugh would rumble through his own chest. Your cunt wept so badly it ached. Still, Joel refused to pay it any mind. Not until he had you whimpering and writhing beneath him.

Even as he was breaking your heart, it was slow; it was painful.

When he told you that he’d gotten another girl pregnant, you almost didn’t believe it. Sure he teased you, but this was a step too far. That was the first time you caught him deliberately averting your gaze. The second you detected that shame, you wanted to scream at him.

You’d never known him to be shy around other girls. But you’d also never known him to be so careless. That pristine picture you had of him was gone in an instant.

The second it was said, you retreated. Or you were discarded. You’d never been able to remember who was the last one to call the other only to be met with an answering machine. You suppose it didn’t really matter anymore.

Years passed and soon those memories turned into mementoes of an entirely different world overnight.

There have been many lovers since then; none as kind as he had been once upon a time. Then again, if Joel was still alive, he was most likely just as rough around the edges as any of the men you’d been with. In fact, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him once since those days. You felt his calluses on every man’s hands, his thick fingers filling you, his stubble prickling your neck. Those men taught you many new things. The first being that patience wasn’t owed to anyone in a world where you could wake up dead. The second? Perhaps you didn’t want patience anymore.

After all, what had patience ever given you? When the world fell apart you got fuck all from simply waiting around for something to happen. You’d rather be torn apart by a clicker than get herded into a QZ where you’d scrounge for rations.

The first chance you got, you claimed a spot in a nomadic group. You did what you had to in order to prove your worth. The first time you shot a gun, as the smell of gunpowder filled your nostrils, you thought of Joel again. Tried to imagine him at your shoulder, chuckling and then muttering under his breath, “Dadgum, girl. Not bad.” 

Every single time you managed to take out one of those infected, you heard that smooth voice of his. It was equal parts frustrating and…comforting. Frustrating in that he had managed to linger this long. But also frustrating in the sense that that version of him no longer existed, if it ever did to begin with. It was like you’d never really left behind him, his honeyed words, his skilled hands, or his goddamn pickup. Joel Miller just…had a way of hanging over you. 

Jackson was a welcome reprieve from that cloud of grief. You were stubborn to the charms of that commune. You’d trusted more promising things before and been burned.

Those years really flew by. Old wounds finally began to close. With each passing kindness, it became easier to live again. For once home felt like a place you could tangibly hold instead of some far off fantasy. 

You were so content that by the time Tommy showed up one spring, you only saw it as a blessing. He was alive, goddamnit. It didn’t matter that his dark eyes were damn near the same shade as his brother’s. And it didn’t matter that the twang of Texas still lingered on his tongue. You simply told yourself what you’d been telling yourself for years.

Joel was just a man. A man who thought that because you were young, he had some sort of claim over your heart. His heart had never belonged to you. More importantly, yours hadn’t belonged to him. He made his mark and you’d paid your dues in heartache. That was all.

Which is why it felt all the more haunting when he showed up on your porch.

A little over three decades later and Joel’s right there in the flesh. Even with the town buzzing about his arrival, you suppressed any notion that he’d pay you a visit. But now he steps forward into the porch light and through the fog of his breath in the cold air, you catch how much he’s changed. He’s almost nothing like you remember. Silver dappled stubble, pursed lips, forehead wrinkling as he furrows his brow.

The expression falls as soon as he sees you. The crinkles by his eyes relax as his gaze softens. Just like it used to so long ago.

Yet you swear he hasn’t changed a lick when he finally speaks.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚ #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us hbo fanfic

[beskarandblasters]

#joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #I took out folklore bc I want more time between my parts I am sorry 😭 #cassian andor x reader #din djarin smut #joel miller smut #cassian andor smut