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writingwithadinosaur · 3 months

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I’ll Take Care of You Pt. 2

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Summary: You and Eggsy have continued seeing each other after the incident. The only problem is, Eggsy only sees you when he's injured. Will he find the courage to tell you how he really feels? Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Talk about minor injuries, but overall fluff again.

Word Count: 3824

Part 1

A/N: The second part is finally here! I rewatched "Robin Hood" recently and it got me back into the Taron Egerton headspace. God I love that man. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Eggsy is walking out of a Kingsman meeting and he can feel the fatigue settling into his bones. Without having a mission to focus on, spy work can be rather boring. Especially during meetings like those. He's trudging down the hall when suddenly, he feels a buzz from his phone. He takes it out and instantly a smile appears on his face.

He received a text message from you saying: Did your meeting kill you with boredom? :P

He laughs to himself before responding: It was fucking dreadful, but thankfully I will live to see another day.

Ever since that fateful night where Eggsy got hit by your car, the two of you have stayed in touch. He thinks he’s actually found a friend in you. It feels nice to have someone to talk to about being a spy, other than his fellow Kingsman agents. Maybe Eggsy shouldn’t be telling you the information he does, but he can’t help it. There’s something about you that makes him want to tell you everything and he knows he can trust you. And you already knew he was a spy, so he figured what’s a few more secrets to spill?

Eggsy loves having you in his life. The only thing he doesn’t love is that the two of you don’t really hang out other than when he gets hurt. Yes, Eggsy has continued to visit you, his favourite nurse, whenever he gets injured in the field. Once, he even paid you a visit after fighting practice with Roxy resulted in a nasty black eye. You didn’t appear mad at him for wasting your time, since all you could really do is offer him an ice pack. You just tended to him as you often did and the two of you talked the night away.

It isn’t even a conscious decision anymore to go to you. He just always finds himself making the journey to your place with a new injury. The first time it happened after the car accident, it was because he had gotten injured near your place and thought it would be easier than returning to base or even going home. But after a few visits, he found himself just wanting to be with you, injured or not.

After this realization, he began to feel bad about selfishly wanting you to be the one who fixes him. After all, you already spend all day tending to patients. So he told you:

“Are you sure you don’t mind fixing me up all the time? I’m starting to feel bad for inconveniencing you.”

But instead of agreeing, you smiled at him and said, “Eggsy Unwin, you could never be an inconvenience. Don’t tell anyone, but out of all of my patients, you’re my favourite.”

His heart sped up at that, so he cracked a joke. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all your patients.”

“Only the handsome ones,” you replied with a wink that caused a shade of pink to bloom on his cheeks, but luckily you had returned to your work and didn’t seem to notice.

It was after that encounter that Eggsy had realized he was developing feelings for you that evolved past friendship. He had tried to chalk his feelings up to being platonic, but who was he kidding? He was falling for you, and falling hard. He thought about confessing to you, wondering if you felt the same, but it was too risky. Eggsy didn’t want to ruin one of the best friendships he had over feelings that are most likely one-sided.

“Is that Y/N?” A voice sounds from beside him, causing Eggsy to jump and almost drop his phone. So much for his spy training. “Tell her I say hi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, tucking his phone away and out of Roxy’s nosy stare. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, now walking beside him.

“Cut the shit, Unwin, I saw you smiling down at your phone with that goofy lovestruck smile that is reserved only for Y/N,” she says. Eggsy had never planned on sharing Y/N with Roxy, not wanting to risk you getting into trouble, but unfortunately for him, Roxy and Merlin are no good busybodies. The next day at work after the car accident, Roxy immediately bombarded him with questions about you. Apparently, when Eggsy informed Merlin that he was going to a random civilian’s house, the news was too interesting not to tell Roxy.

He also never planned on giving Roxy your name but having a friend that’s a spy is not convenient when keeping secrets. She had spied on him when Eggsy was texting you, the two of you having exchanged information that fateful day, and saw your contact name before he could stop her.

“I was not smiling, and I do not have a goofy lovestruck smile only for Y/N,” Eggsy tells her, but as soon as he says that, he wonders if he does. If his feelings are really that obvious.

“God, for a spy you really are obvious.” Sometimes he wonders why he’s even friends with Roxy.

“And for the last time, Rox, I am not in love with her,” he insists.

“Is that why you won’t let me meet her? You’re afraid I’ll tell her? Because I can assure you, unlike yourself, I am quite excellent at keeping secrets.”

“For the record, I won’t let the two of you meet because I’m afraid you’ll scare her off,” he says, but he’s also afraid that Roxy might steal you away. Maybe you’d prefer a female spy friend over him. He doesn’t think you’re the type of person to do that, but his insecurities continue to hold him back, just in case.

Roxy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Unwin, just admit that you love her! I already know, and you won’t convince me otherwise.” Eggsy realizes how true that is when he looks over to see his friend’s dead serious expression. Fuck it.

“It’s not love, quite yet,” he admits, and Roxy giddily celebrates. Eggsy looks up and down the hall to make sure no one sees her. “What was that about being too obvious?”

But Roxy doesn’t hear him. “I knew it. I can’t believe I got you to confess, I thought I’d have to bug you at least a few more times about it,” she says with a smile on her face. He rolls his eyes.

“Well, now you know. Satisfied?”

She stays quiet for a moment before asking, “Why don’t you tell her again?”

“It’s not that simple,” he says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know how to explain himself without making him seem like a miserable sod. “She’s my friend. A good friend, and I don’t…” He sighs and stops walking. Roxy stops beside him. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Eggsy Unwin,” Roxy says, and when he looks her she has a serious arms-crossed look that makes Eggsy want to keep walking. “You’re not going to screw this up.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same?” he confesses and then realizes they should have chosen a more private location to be having this conversation. Luckily, there appear to be no other agents around.

“By the looks of your messages, I can almost guarantee she feels the same. On top of that, I’m your best friend and even I would get annoyed at having to fix you up after every fight,” she says.

“Sorry, exactly when did you see such messages?”

“Never mind that,” she says, brushing the topic aside. “The point is, I think she feels the same way. And even if she doesn’t, based on the limited knowledge of her, she sounds like the type of person to handle that well. You don’t have to worry about your friendship.”

What she said makes sense, yet Eggsy can’t shake the queasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of having to confess to you.

“It’s up to you what you do,” Roxy continues. “But would you at least consider it?”

He stares at her unyielding gaze, and relents. “I suppose.”

“Thank god. I don’t know how much more pining I can take,” she says and resumes walking.

“I do not pine!” he says, picking up his pace to catch up with her.

†††

A week later, Eggsy finds himself sitting in one of the Kingsman jets heading back to base after a long, but successful, mission. He’s lounging in one of the chairs, feeling proud that the mission had gone off without a hitch.

His mission had been to retrieve some confidential information that had gone missing, but the retrieval ended up being fairly easy. The people who had stolen the information got lulled into a sense of calm and had lowered their security. Thanks to that, Eggsy had been able to be in and out of the compound, only having to take out a few people along the way.

Eggsy feels the pride and relief he normally would but now he’s also filled with excitement. Typically, at the end of his more recent missions, Eggsy will have acquired a few wounds that need tending to and would drop by your place (if you were available, which most of the time you were.) Only, as Eggsy relaxes into the jet’s seat, his excitement suddenly dwindles. He lifts up his arms and examines his body to check, but this time Eggsy finds himself in perfect condition. No injury to be found. He slumps back into the chair.

This should be a good thing, as Eggsy isn’t always as careful as he should be, but he finds he’s disappointed. After all, now he didn’t have a reason to see you. He bites his lip and gazes out the window. He was really excited to see you and now there is a hole of dissatisfaction left behind.

He continues thinking about you, about what you’re doing right now, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s dialling your number. He only wants to hear the sound of your voice, even if he got your voicemail he would be satisfied.

On the third ring, you pick up. “How’s my favourite spy doing?” you ask as a greeting. He’s almost embarrassed at the butterflies that flutter in his stomach at your voice, and you calling him that.

“I don’t know, how is Bond?” He hears you giggle, brightening his already wide smile.

“Oh hush, no need to be jealous over a fictional character. And you were right, he is a bit posh for my taste.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “Well, your real favourite spy is feeling pretty fucking good right about now.”

“I take it the mission went well?” He had been texting you throughout the mission when he got bored. Merlin used to give him shit for it, but now he’s begrudgingly resigned to it, knowing that Eggsy had no intentions of stopping. As long as it’s only you.

“It went great! Everything went according to plan.”

“Sounds a bit boring.” He laughs, as he silently agrees with you. “Speaking as your nurse, however, I suppose this is good news.”

“What a lovely nurse I have. How did I get so lucky?”

Another laugh. “Right place, right time, right car I suppose.” He laughs. It took a while before you were able to laugh about hitting him with your car, as you still felt extremely guilty. But after reassuring you that he was over it, and constantly teasing you about it, you found the humour in it. “Seriously, I’m happy for you Eggs. You must feel great.”

“I do,” he says, despite the disappointment that lingered due to not seeing you. “Want me to tell you about it?”

“Duh!”

“Could you please try to leave out the classified bits?” Another voice sounds from the jet. Eggsy looks up to see Merlin passing by. He gives Eggsy a tired, worried expression. Eggsy smiles up at him.

“You can count on me, Merlin,” he says with a cheeky smile and a wink. Merlin simply rubs the bridge of his nose where his glasses sit.

“Is that Merlin? Tell him I say hi!”

“Y/N says hi,” Eggsy relays to him. Merlin’s face softens.

“Hello dear,” he says. Despite the nagging and scolding, Eggsy thinks Merlin likes you. The two of you have never met, but Eggsy suspects the older man believes you’re a good influence on him. Truthfully, it’s because you make Eggsy happy.

“He says hi back.”

“When are you going to introduce me to your spy family? Or is that against the rules?”

“I think it’s a little late to be considering the rules.” You laugh.

“Fair enough. Then what is it? Do you just want to keep me all to yourself?” Eggsy’s breath catches as you jokingly hit the nail on the head. He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t help the feeling of wanting to be yours. To remain your favourite spy.

“You caught me,” he says with a laugh to avoid the truthfulness from leaking through his tone.

“You can’t keep anything from me, my dear boy.” Again, his heart hammers in his chest. “Now enough chit chat, tell me about your mission.”

†††

Later that night, Eggsy is sitting on his couch, your phone call from earlier echoing in his mind. Even after hearing your voice, it didn’t quite satisfy his need to see you. He considers slightly nicking his hand with a knife when he catches himself. What is he doing? There’s nothing stopping him from going to see you right now except his own nerves. But if the two of you really are friends, then there’s nothing wrong with it, right?

“Fuck it,” he mutters to himself. Summoning up courage he doesn’t have, he stands up from his couch. What’s the worst that can happen? A deep breath, and he’s making his way to the door when suddenly he hears a knock. He pauses, wondering who it could be. It’s the middle of the night.

Eggsy cautiously walks to his front door and opens it, only to stop in shock. There, on his doorstep, is you. You’re here, at his place. Once that registers, concern overwhelms him as he takes in your state.

You’re leaning against his doorframe with a hand pressed against your left side. You also brand a gash on your chin and a split lip. Despite all of this, a smile graces your lips. “Well isn’t this ironic?” you say as way of greeting. Eggsy’s still having a hard time believing he didn’t fall asleep and dreamt this. But your voice shocks him out of his frozen state.

“Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you?” he asks, opening his door. Shock is slowly giving way to worry as he watches you slowly make your way into his place, taking in the view.

“It’s actually a funny story,” you say. You make your way to his couch but pause to examine his living room. “Nice place you have here.”

Eggsy’s mind is going a mile a minute. He didn’t know what to do, but then he remembers that you’re injured. “I-I’ll go see if I have anything to patch you up with.” Before you can argue, Eggsy starts scrambling around his place trying to find what he thinks he would need. He ends up bringing a wet cloth, a bag of frozen peas, a package of bandaids, and some disinfectant cream that you had given him.

He returns to find you sitting on his couch, a pained expression on your face as you take deep breaths. As soon as you see him however, your face hides any trace of pain. He furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. He dumps the stuff on his coffee table.

“Whoa,” you say, taking in his collection. He becomes self-conscious since you’re an expert in medicine.

“I-It’s not much, I know, but it’ll do for now,” he says reassuringly. He takes a seat on the couch beside you. He knows about the injuries on your face but not your stomach. He eyes your side and you know what he’s thinking. “Could you lift up your shirt?”

“How forward of you,” you say with a smirk and he’s acutely aware that your roles have truly changed. He gives you a stern look, and you drop the smirk. You pull your shirt up to reveal your side and Eggsy sucks in a sharp breath.

“Jesus Y/N,” he mutters, examining the massive bruise.

“I’m lucky it’s just a bruise,” you say, a wince on your face. Eggsy looks at you and forces your gaze to meet his own.

“What happened?” he says sternly. He knows you’ve been dodging around the subject since you got here. You blush, realizing that he’s caught onto your game. To distract you, Eggsy begins fixing you up. He gently places the frozen peas on the bruise and you gasp in pain, causing his heart to squeeze.

“I don’t know how you spy types do it,” you comment. He thinks about asking how you medical professionals do it, as seeing you in pain breaks his heart. But Eggsy won’t let you dance around the subject any longer. You let out a sigh as you hold onto the bag while Eggsy examines your other injuries. “So, it’s actually rather embarrassing, but…I was actually on my way to see you.”

His eyes widen. You wanted to see him too? He tries to catch your eye but your gaze is directed at anywhere but him. A deep red is encroaching on your cheeks. You clear your throat. “So anyway, I got in my car and drove over. I…I was a bit rushed so when I got out of my car I wasn’t paying much attention. That’s when this biker rounds the corner and rides right into me.” Eggsy finishes dabbing the wet cloth on your chin and begins to apply the disinfectant, causing a hiss to escape your lips.

“Sorry,” he says. He finally meets your eyes and it feels like he got the wind kicked out of him.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, not breaking away from the stare. A moment passes before you look away and continue your story. “Anyway, he knocked me over and my left side hit the curb while my chin hit the pavement.” Eggsy winces for you.

“Did the wanker at least apologize?” His voice is clipped, withholding his anger for your sake. Tending to you is all that’s keeping him from tracking down this man and inflicting the same pain he forced upon you.

"It wasn’t his fault, Eggs, I wasn’t looking." He nods but still isn’t satisfied. Accident or no, this man hurt you which stirred unpleasant emotions in his head. “He ended up falling over as well, but he had a helmet so ultimately both he and the bike were fine. We both apologized to each other, me for not looking and him for not steering away or stopping quick enough. He was actually really nice about it.”

To distract from the illogical flare of jealousy that rose within him, Eggsy decides to joke around. “Is this a habit of yours? Getting into accidents with nice men? You know, there are other ways of gaining a man’s attention.” His comments make you break out into a smile that instantly winces due to the split lip.

“First of all, shut up,” you say, causing him to laugh. “And second of all, I’ll have you know that I had a clean record before I met you. Perhaps you’ve begun to corrupt me.”

“Perhaps I have.” The two of you smirk and the flirtatious energy soon leaves a sharp tension in the room. Eggsy applies a large enough bandage onto your chin and now begins to dab on the cut on your lip. You’re close enough for your breaths to tangle. But before Eggsy makes a complete ass of himself, he has to know. “Why were you coming to see me?”

This question wipes the smirk from your face and reheats your cheeks. “O-oh, that,” you say, trying to find the words, it seems. “Well, the thing is…okay, after your mission, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was expecting to get a call from you saying you needed to be patched up. I-I had gotten used to it, so I was expecting to see you. But then the mission went fine.”

Eggsy can’t believe what he’s hearing. His heart begins picking up speed as he eagerly waits for you to continue.

“And I know I should have been happy to hear that—I was, I mean I hate seeing you hurt and I’m always the one telling you to be more careful.” You begin to ramble on and in your ramblings, Eggsy’s confidence grows. “I selfishly wanted an excuse to see you, but then I decided fuck it, and made my way over here. I-I just wanted to see you.”

You will no longer look at him. Your flirtatious confidence is gone as you let the unspoken words hang in the air. Looking at you, processing what you said, Eggsy realizes that there’s a chance. There’s a chance that you feel the same way, a strong one. And if there’s a chance, Eggsy’s going to take it.

“Y/N,” he whispers. His continued silence forces you to look at him and he hears you gasp softly at his proximity. He’s looking at you, flicking his gaze down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His eyes hold a question and you glance quickly at his lips before nodding.

Eggsy gently takes your face into his hands and crashes his lips down onto yours. You hiss and he breaks apart, feeling guilty for forgetting your cut, but you grab his collar and force his lips back on yours.

Eggsy sinks into the kiss, letting the passion take over and melt his body. He can’t think of anything else other than your lips, moving together, sweeter than his imagination could have predicted. When the two of you break apart, gasping for air, he breaks into a smile. You giggle, making him want to kiss you all over again to swallow the sound and live off it.

After a moment, you say, “If I’d known this is what it would take for you to finally make a move, I would have got hit by a bike ages ago.” You both laugh before Eggsy can’t hold himself back any longer and captures your lips again. You hungrily accept.

You kiss until you pull back, wincing in pain. “Totally worth it,” you whispers. He sighs as the cut on your lip reopens.

“What am I going to do with you?” he says, shaking his head as he reapplies the cloth.

“Nurse me back to health?” you say with a smile. He smiles back.

“Don’t you worry love, I’ll take care of you.”

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writingwithadinosaur · 3 months

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a little dream come true (e.u.)

summary ⇾ eggsy remembers just how he met you–be it chance, be it fate–and remembering it every now and then brings a smile to his face (yours too) details ⇾ 1,715 words / eggsy unwin x data-analyst!reader / gn!reader / 🌸 fluff / merlin being the biggest shipper of you two (we do not talk about the golden circle…)

the kingsman headquarters grow quiet in the thick of the night, as it always does. eggsy finds himself down one of the hallways, making his way towards a specific office to find his favorite person. he slows down when he passes by a door that looks familiar. backtracking a couple of steps, he looks through the small window and the sight refreshes his memory. his memory of when he first met you.

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writingwithadinosaur · 3 months

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Holy shit. I need more! I was t expecting to spend 1/2 my lunch break reading this today, but goddamn this is good! Please let me know when you post more! 🖤

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 8 all chapters

-Your birthday falls on a beautiful spring day, and of course, you have to work. When a new customer growls into the parking lot on a shiny black motorcycle everyone crowds behind the counter to see who it could be.

It takes so little to entertain all of you, sometimes.

The boys titter excitedly about the sweet bike and torque and ccs, whatever that means.

When the rider takes off his helmet there’s a fall of fabulous dark hair, and something inside you utterly purrs at the sight.

It’s Mr. Wick.

Maybe you should have known. His padded motorcycle jacket makes his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and as he crosses the parking lot on long legs you hear Cassie sigh behind you.

Same, girl, same.

Cassie had made you a little birthday crown to wear out of a to go cup, a la Princess Peach. You forget about the silly adornment clipped to your head, until Mr. Wick approaches the counter to make his order.

“One coffee…your Highness?” He lifts one of those dark brows with a small smirk, and fuck if it doesn't make you blush.

“It's my birthday,” you sheepishly tell him. His expression actually softens.

“Happy Birthday, then.”

“Thanks.”

“Not fair you have to work today.”

You shrug. “No rest for the wicked.”

This makes him smile a little wider, and you feel that’s a good present for today.

“Hopefully you have something fun planned for later?”

Is he fishing, or just making conversation? You can never tell with this man.

“Not really,” you admit with a shrug.

Your parents are divorced and remarried, living far away from you in their new lives, with their new families. You know they’ll call you later, when they remember you. You’ll have an awkward little conversation that will only serve to grind up your heart into smaller pieces, rather than lift your spirits like its meant to.

Your friends are busy too. One, with her new baby who never has time for you anymore, and you totally understand (and endorse) her priorities, even if it still hurts. The other’s work schedule is exactly the opposite of yours, and you never manage to hang out anymore.

Maybe you’ll go to the thrift store after you get off work, or treat yourself to an ice cream. Nothing too extravagant. You’re saving every penny you can for your upcoming trip.

“Well, maybe something will come up.”

It’s a nice thought.

You make him his usual coffee order, and don’t think much about it the rest of the day. This warm spring day has everyone out and about, stir crazy after the thaw, and you were running full speed from open to the end of your shift. For some incongruous reason, people were extra rude too, and as the clock strikes 2 you are at the end of your rope, your smile more closely resembling a baring of teeth.

Your whole body hurts, and you think you are too exhausted to do anything fun for yourself, until you go to your car in the lot behind the brick building to find Mr. Wick—and his motorcycle—parked next to your old Rav4. He looks utterly scrumptious, if you’re being honest, those legs going on forever as he leans against the seat of his bike. His hair is waving down around his face as he browses something on his phone to pass the time.

Good on you, for only pausing for a moment to ogle him.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You look between him and the bike with your lip between your teeth, wondering what he’s doing, your treacherous heart fluttering in your chest.

“I thought…it might be fun to go for a ride? If you want.”

You cannot suppress a wide smile, touched to the marrow that he thought of you on your special day. “That does sound like fun,” you admit, and not just because the thought of sitting behind him on a bike makes you a little weak in the knees. The sunshine that day truly feels like a gift from the gods after such a harsh winter. “But…”

He tilts his head inquisitively.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

He shakes his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, and your fingers physically ache to brush it away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he assures you, and damn if that isn’t enough to convince you.

“Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a bike before?”

His smile is nothing less than gentle, and he could have pushed you over with a feather.

“All you have to do is hold on to me,” he assures you, and you think you lose your mind a little at that.

There is slightly more to it, he instructs you as you put on a helmet and he helps you clamber on behind him. He tells you to lean slightly with him into the turns, but not too much. The bike grumbles like a fire-breathing beast beneath you as he starts it up.

The feeling of his slim hips and taut backside between your thighs crosses some wires in your brain.

He takes you to the winding backroads of the countryside and up the mountain. You feel like you’re flying, snaking through the curves on this powerful machine, with a man you find you trust implicitly at the controls.

You laugh out loud more than once.

At a straightaway he asks through the helmet mic, “Want to see what she can do?”

“Sure,” you answer, even though you can’t imagine what more this beautiful bike could offer.

“Lean into me, and hold on.” You obey, looping arms around his trim waist, plastered to his backside as he hunkers down for aerodynamics. You were already going fast, but when he shifts a gear you take off like a shot.

A sane person would have screamed, but all you can do is laugh.

This is the purest joy you’ve felt in longer than you can remember.

John pulls over at a scenic overlook, parking the bike so you can have a little break. You sit together on a picnic table, looking over the valley below. A stream snakes through it like a silver ribbon, shimmering in the sunlight. You sigh and lean back on your arms, lifting your face to the sun.

This has turned out to be a perfect day. John smiles a little as he looks over at you, but says nothing, just lets you soak it in.

“Thank you for this,” you finally say. “I was having such a shitty day.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sit up and rub at your neck. You have an unrelenting ache in the muscle over your left shoulder blade. It never really goes away, but its definitely worse after a long day on your feet bending over coffee.

John looks worried, bless him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I just…have this thing. I think there’s a demon living in my shoulder.”

After a pensive moment he lifts his hands in offering, moving very slowly as though he might spook you. His hands are…beautiful. Large, long fingered, calloused too. You wonder what he does, when he’s not sitting in the coffee shop or binding books. The thought of them on your body gives you a forbidden little thrill.

You do not even consider the missing digit, until he looks at his left hand and frowns, closing it to hide it at his side. “Sorry. I still forget…”

But you take his hand in yours, inspecting it closely for the first time. He allows it, though there is something vulnerable in his eyes as you do. The healed skin almost looks jagged, like it wasn’t severed with a clean cut or a surgical blade. You feel the urge to press your lips to it, as though you could kiss it better, but you just rub your thumb over the fine dark hairs there.

“What happened?”

“Someone…” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sound. “I had an accident.”

You sense there’s much more to the story, but you don’t press him yet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, I get the phantom aches. Mostly it’s fine though.”

You nod and angle your back to him, placing his hand on your shoulder as you shoot him a pointed look, granting him permission to touch you. His sigh is almost imperceptible, but you sit up a little straighter as he squeezes your shoulder lightly. You get the slightest taste of the strength in those hands, yet you know he could rip you to pieces if he chose to.

He slays you in a different way, knowing exactly how to use them on your sore muscles, and you can’t help but moan as he squeezes the kinks out of your shoulders. For a second he freezes at the sound, before continuing to work his magic.

“God…that feels so good.” You’ve been in pain for so long that it’s damn near better than sex.

Maybe it’s been too long for that too, though.

“You are a mess.” You know him well enough now to know he’s frowning as he says this. He kills a knot with the well-placed blade of his thumb. You feel it release and you jump a little. Though it doesn’t really hurt you, you’re not sure why there is suddenly moisture in your eyes.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of you like this, you suppose.

“Job hazard,” you sigh.

“Do you ever do yoga?”

You laugh a little at that for some reason. “I used to practice, when I was younger.” It kind of fell by the wayside. You’re always so tired when you get home.

“Well, stretching is good for you, as you age. Take it from an old man. It helps.”

“You’re not old,” you immediately protest.

“Nice to know I still have some curb appeal.” His words are laden with sarcasm, and yet you can tell he is pleased.

He finishes the massage with a lighter touch, to stimulate blood flow, that gives you delicious chills all over. Your shoulders are your kryptonite, and you are putty in his hands. You look back at him from beneath your lashes, curious what exactly it is the two of you are doing here. Does he like you, or is he just being impossibly nice?

He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but you find you can’t read him, not one bit.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

It is almost dinner time. “Okay.”

You’re a little sad as you ride back down the mountain towards town. But he pulls up to the local diner, and you have sinfully greasy cheeseburgers and shakes. Despite your protests he pays, because: “No one should have to pay for their birthday dinner.”

You know he’s fucking loaded, so you let him have his way.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” you admit, munching on a fry. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

You know he’s told you to call him John before, but fuck if you haven’t noticed how his eyes darken just a little when you call him Mr. Wick, or even just Sir at the coffeeshop. You feel like you stumbled onto something you don’t entirely understand, but it fills you with a forbidden warmth all the same.

He gives you a hooded look from across the table, and you fancy he knows that you know what you’re doing.

“My pleasure, y/n.”

He doesn’t insist that you call him John again.

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writingwithadinosaur · 3 months

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Curious Polar bear (Ursus maritimus) standing upright and looking through porthole into the kitchen of arctic expedition ship M/S Stockholm in Svalbard, Spitsbergen, Norway by Andy Rouse

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writingwithadinosaur · 3 months

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my fellow, my guy

Joel Miller x f!Reader [5.3k] Summary: All his attempts at faking nonchalance about anything are gone out of the window just like that. Four words and Joel's changed. In his bones, the very chemistry of his brain. "'Cause he's my guy." How did he ever manage to not claim you in front of the world? He has no clue, but Joel's changing that. Tonight.

— A/n 📝I wanted to try something different. What if possessive!Reader brought out the possessiveness in Joel? Reblogs and comments make all the difference. — Warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, established relationship, rough sex, possessive!Joel, dirty talking, thigh riding, spanking, soft!Dom!Joel, possessive!Reader, oral (f receiving), penetration, creampie.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

In the middle of what seemed like a sea of infinite, boring nothingness, Joel is hooked by the magnitude of your nature's force — the power in the way you stand; your presence.

His favorite thing ever since he met you. Everything about you.

Since he arrived at Jackson's community with Ellie two years ago, he's been blinded by it.

Your light, heat, glow. Joel might as well be a moth, and it amazed him now that he thought of it, how long he managed to pretend he was anything by mesmerized by your flames. In the middle of the meeting, you utter the words that snap something inside him, and Joel feels his inner workings shifting. Four words and Joel's changed:

"'Cause he's my guy."

All his attempts at faking nonchalance about anything are gone out of the window just like that. In his bones, the very chemistry of his brain — Joel feels a snap, and he sort of... embraces it.

There's silence around the table for only a second.

Nathan had asked: "But why does he get to go if it's that dangerous? I get it when you go by yourself 'cause we know you're different, but I've asked you multiple times, and it's always no. I just — I don't get why he's going."

And you had answered.

Loud and clear.

"Not that you have to get anything, Nathan, since you don't have the ground knowledge to be second-guessing my decisions of any plans, but — it's simple. I'll answer you. 'Cause he's my guy. And I'll take him to wherever I please."

You had paused, lifted both eyebrows in question, and Nathan remained silenced.

Joel freezes at first, too. When you say 'he's my guy' the words shoot like a freezing spell that hits his blood, but even with almost all eyes turning shamelessly to him, Joel can feel his shoulders relaxing further back the more you stare at him. In only a second he sees a lot of words running through your eyes, and all he can think back is a litany of — yes exactly yes—

He leans back on the chair's backrest. Both of his feet slide a few inches further, his legs spreading wider.

He is your guy.

Has been for a while now. A year — almost a year a half, if he was being really accurate. While both of you managed to keep that hidden for the better half of that time, lately the nosy (and delusional) jackasses like Nathan were prodding into your business with jabs here and there. Tauntings about the 'nature' of things between you and him. As if they couldn't see it in both of your eyes. Your postures. The way you walked side by side.

No matter how private you two tried being, you two almost had rings gravitating the bubble created around you, like Saturn in the sky.

Joel knew they frowned upon him. Talked about him on his back — about him and his daughter, about his daughter's personality, and the way Joel Miller seems to 'have only smiles for his Ranger neighbor'.

The silence around the table's broken by his own voice, letting the words slip out of his tongue. "Don't worry, Nathan. 'm not decorative. I've got good aim. If you're worried about her safety, don't be."

What a jackass move. That's what the smile on the corner of your mouth said to him. "See? So helpful. We'll all be fine, and once we're through there and come back, everyone else can be fine too knowing there's nothing to worry about."

With a sigh, you get up before Nathan can finish collecting his patience from the floor, or wipe away the humiliation of being rejected for what is far from the first time since he's unable to accept a refusal without embarrassing himself.

"Are we all clear?"

After a round of verbal agreement from the table — one of which comes through gritted teeth — you nod once, put on a smile, and sigh loudly. "Excellent. You're all free to go."

It was so, so — hot. Enticing, and hypnotizing.

The power you had over people that came not because of something futile, but because of how capable your hands were. Joel was an imbecile if he was being honest with himself.

How did he ever manage to not claim you in front of the world? He has no clue, but Joel's changing that.

Tonight.

He sits back and waits while the room empties out, slowly.

Some people linger back to talk to each other, to him, to you. He answers all of them without ever turning his body away from you, and when there are only a handful of people left, Joel remains seated, with no rush to gather his jacket or things since he's leaving with the person who's closing the whole building.

He's leaving with you.

Tommy, Mercedes, and Max are the last ones hanging around, and while the two latter go exchange a word with you — "good gods, can we do a round table vote to kick fucking Nathan out of here? I know he's a master engineer or whatever, but fuck, man, he's annoying", starts Max — his brother knocks his elbow on his side.

Joel looks up to find the smirk on Tommy's face.

"If you had feathers, you'd be peacocking all over the goddamn room," he whispers for Joel's ears only.

Joel laughs under his breath. "Shut up."

Tommy shakes his head, laughing as well. "Nah, I won't, actually. I happen to like seein' that stupid look on your goddamn face."

"Is that so?" Joel wants to sound a little more sarcastic, but with the huge smile he feels imprinted on his face, it's impossible to do so.

"Damn right it is," Tommy chuckles. "And you know why it's the best seein' that smile puttin' even a glint in your eyes, huh?"

Oh, god, here he goes. "Why?"

"Because this is the best damn I told you so on the planet. Well — one of the best. There's space for more," Tommy pouts, looking up with a musing look. "A couple of really big others." He looks down at Joel again, smiling from ear to ear. "I've gotten really smart in your absence, and I wanna hear the day when you'll admit it."

Joel's amused by the confidence — if Tommy's right about many other things Joel will find out eventually, but this, he owns.

Tommy introducing Joel to you with only a nudge in the right direction was all it took.

"We'll see about those," Joel answers and Tommy huffs good-heartedly in response, an image most familiar to Joel.

Now again, after almost decades without it.

Joel's happy for many reasons, it seems.

He sinks his feet in the feeling, not wanting to track back to things he's unable to change.

Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but Joel catches a cue from across the room:

Keys. Your set of keys when grabbed from the table make a known sound, and it's like an alarm — a triggering sound that connects to routine. He hears them and Tommy turns around, seeing how Max and Mercedes are leaving.

Joel and Tommy move in sync toward you, and everybody — with the exception of Joel and you — bids their goodbyes at the door outside.

As soon as they're out of sight, Joel turns to find your eyes already waiting for his.

He never had this type of relationship before. Never saw in someone's eyes the thoughts running through their mind at that exact moment, and it was exhilarating.

You knew your words had affected them.

The only thing you were probably unaware of was the epiphany that accompanied them — the moment his mind came to a halt.

The inner fight over faking being empty.

It was so silly. Joel was full.

"If I kiss you here, we're not gonna stop," Joel informs you.

A breathless chuckle leaves you, and you take a step, falling gracefully into his hold. "Really?"

Joel loves sultriness in your voice. "Really." He goes back to the words he's been letting your mind soak up. Closes his eyes, leaning his forehead on yours as his arm locks around you. "How could you do that to me, hm?"

His own voice is wrecked. Sounds like something out of a ridiculous sex tape, or one of those Star Wars movies from back in the way.

Seemingly content with what you've done, Joel feels your giggling more than hears it—the huffs of breath on his chin and cheeks tickle. "I wasn't really thinking when I said it? It's just — it was the third time he questioned me choosing you to team up and I know it's stupid to let it get to me, I know Nathan's just — jealous, which is even more ridiculous than anything, but I hate the way he speaks over me sometimes. I hate it! And when I saw... it'd slipped out."

It's the coyness at the end of your ramble that gets him to open his eyes.

"Slipped out," he echoes.

You nod, smiling up at him. A little shy, a little devious. "Yeah."

The worst part is — he believed you. "I believe you." Truth does that. It slips out. It's uncontainable, like sunshine or water or rain.

Then, you're happier, and whenever your smile widened like that, Joel was always taken over by the desire to kiss you. This time, he embraced the hunger with open arms and leaned to capture what he wanted.

None of you discussed the lack of control of doing this only seconds after he just said there was no controlling him, but this was more than a need — or delicious, wet evidence —, it was breathing.

Joel inhales deeply while his tongue tangles with yours, his hands finding their path easily to your hair through your favorite spots and detours on your neck. He kisses them just to breathe.

He went without addiction for so long in this world.

When your throat vibrations with a low moan, Joel knows why.

He'd been weak before. No room in him for addictions if there were no higher parts of him working. No real thinking, feeling, existing.

People turned to things that gave them a thrill because existing demanded too much. A strenuous task with little to no rewards, which made everyone to need an escape.

Thankfully, you were no escape.

And as far as vices went, the taste of you was an infinite, healthy, and powerful source for one.

He pulls back for oxygen, breathing out slowly the warmness you leave in his chest.

"So I'm your guy." Joel needed to hear it again, maybe. He liked how the words sounded on his lips, too.

"You are."

Sweet Jesus.

He needs to get you home before starting this shit. "Fuck," it slips out. You laugh, resting your forehead on his sternum, and Joel nods to you and to himself. "'kay. We need to go. Let's go?"

"Yeah".

"Alright. No distractin' me while I'm drivin', ya hear me?"

Despite having already done everything tonight, you still have the audacity to whine at his request. Joel ought to slap your ass right there in the middle of the street. On the sidewalk outside where both of you work, often.

He takes advantage of the hand on your hair, making a fist with it — as carefully as he can be — and grips just right.

Putting his mouth to your ear, he whispers. "I'll spank ya 'till your ass is red if you whine again before my tongue's buried in your pussy." Joel lives for the way you gasp for him. He presses his whole body flushed with yours, and hears the repressed groan in your throat when you feel it. "I've been half hard since what you said sank in. Calling me yours like that, claiming me for everybody to hear. Had to fuckin' stop myself from thinkin' about fucking you on that table for everyone to see. Don't make me crazier than I already am, I swear to—" his final words end muffled on your lips.

Instead of finishing, he just gets another little taste of you.

One for the road.

For safe keeping.

Joel had such a distance between his mind now and the memories of his young adult years that every time this happened, he felt a little choked up:

nostalgia.

True, genuine nostalgia.

For him, it came in waves.

It smelled of his first trip to the beach, and the taste of gelato sticking sweet on his tongue. Showing him real sweetness for the first time.

That's what driving home to you feels like.

Joel's still not used to your eyes on him. Being looked at with so much hunger scared him at first. Joel thought these days were past him. He imagined luxury, lust, adventure, and the nice, saccharine-type of adrenaline all belonged in his past.

To a Joel that died when Cordyceps wrecked the world.

It turned out that your fingertips on his thigh touched the parts of him that proved his wonderings wrong.

Sure, he had trouble getting hard all by himself if he wanted to jack off on a random weekday, but — put you biting your bottom lip on the passenger seat, and Joel was bulging inside his jeans, stiff as a rock and with no rush to see the end of it.

The silence that blanketed the car comfortably is thrown out of the window when you two enter his room, fully clothed.

You are so good for him.

When Joel kicks his bedroom door closed behind him, you are still. Waiting for it.

Knowing exactly what he needs.

A shiver runs through his whole body, and Joel sits on his armchair to remove his boots. He turns on the soft light on the interrupter behind him, feeling around the wall for it so his eyes can remain on you. When the room's illuminated by yellow, warm light, Joel kicks off his shoes and spreads his legs, making himself comfortable.

"Take off your shoes." He loves this part. "And your pants." Joel's hand comes up to his beard, rubbing the patchy hair. "Then get here," he pats his lap, and watches as you do as he asked.

Slowly. Exactly how he likes it.

Joel keeps smoothing out the hair on his face as he watches you do it. The right word for what awakens inside him every time his eyes land on more and more skin, and more of your body, is adoration.

He'd been attracted to some people since the outbreak happened, it'd be impossible for him not to — Joel pretended for a long while to be devoid of feelings, not being dead.

Attraction and primal, raw desire might belong in the same family, but they lived on almost opposite ends of the spectrum. The first was the beginning of 'Interest' while the second was the furthest point of it.

Joel desired you for things that went far beyond your looks, but gods—

The looks.

He was painfully attracted to you, and he knew it dripped out of him.

When you strip off from all the item he asks for and walks to him, Joel puts his legs together to give you space in his armchair. His arms open up to welcome your body straddling his, then wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible.

As if he wished to trap you.

You wished he would.

For a while, all he does is feel you up.

His hands run over every exposed inch of your skin while his face rubs on your neck and your face, beard leaving the first tingles of what later will be red burns. Meanwhile, your body ignites as if fuel is being added to fire.

The longer Joel touches you, rubs on you, leaves trails of his mouth and his kisses on the skin it passes through, the hotter you burn. It starts as a fire in your brain — Joel started as a single flame somewhere in your mind, one you were unable to pin a finger on and eventually put out, and it grew, and it took over. His heat spreads from a fog around your thoughts to your neck. It descends to your neck, then it warms your chest.

When his tongue and teeth scrape a spot in your jugular, the storm he caused settles in between your legs, causing them to rut against his lap, rocking against the bulge inside his pants.

Joel hums in your neck, pulling back to look at your face. His smile is smug, and you say it you hate it every time you see it. "Stupid cocky smile." The words are ineffective as always — in face of how breathy you sound, the way your hips are moving in circles on top of him, they're empty.

"You love my cocky everything." Stupid cocky bastard.

Your mouth crashes against him, landing in a bruising kiss.

Joel never minded your roughness.

He embraced it however it came, whenever it came. Joel liked it. In all its forms, it was beautiful to him.

It matches the despair inside him. Joel enjoys how he's able to devour you, sometimes whole, because you feast on him as well. You tongue is hot and heavy on his, and your moans awaken the words from the meeting back to him.

Joel kisses even harder.

His hands — one on the nape of your neck and the other grabbing at your back, your boobs, your stomach — both move to your waist and guide your moves to slow it down.

When you pull back to breathe, Joel wants to feel everything.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion, throwing them off somewhere without care. He removes your top as well, then takes a moment to appreciate the view.

"Take my clothes off, baby." He hates to have you off his lap for even a moment, but for this, it's worth it.

Since the first time he slept with you, Joel chooses to let you undress him if he can. If he's not in a rush to have you, if it's not one of those incredible moments when he already wakes up with you naked and him still only in boxers — if he can, Joel picks this—

Your fingers sometimes are desperate. Buttons are your worst enemy when all you want is him naked for you, but most of the time, you take your time. Do it slowly, taking off each item with the care he never seems to have for your clothes because all Joel cares for is your skin.

"I like taking them off."

"Why?"

"Remember how I asked you that first time to do it?"

"Yeah."

"So — I wanted to do it for so long. I—don't laugh at me, or — look at me weird, but. I thought about it. A lot. Thought about... all these layers you're often using. And — I'm crazy about your body. You—I know you complain about the aches and joke about being old and frail, which is — bullshit. Ridiculous, and everyone knows it. It's just... I like that you let me do it. I like that I get to undress you. It's hot. You're hot."

The memory strikes him again — as it does when he's in this position — and Joel feels a little raw.

Now that he knows how you feel, it makes it more real.

How you peel off his shirt by running your palms across his chest all the way through his back. Undoing the zipper of his pants, you palm the outline of his cock, then get down on both knees to pull them all the way off. Joel helps by lifting his hips a little, and seeing the way your eyes snap to his groin makes him burn.

Joel knows exactly what you'll go for — he watches you remove and throw his jeans to the side, hands running up his calves while you stand on both knees to nibble little bites on his thighs.

He hisses, feeling his dick twitch the closer you get to it. He lets you have your fun, no matter how much it feels like torture.

Your tongue touches the muscle of his inner thigh, sucking a bruise in there, and Joel gasps. "You ain't gonna do what you think you are."

You muffle what he images would be another whine by sucking a bruise on his other thigh. "Please?" You blink your gorgeous eyes, gazing straight at him.

Joel cups your face in one hand, smiling again. He refrains from answering because he likes what comes next.

The kisses that inch closer to his cock. The innocent, and yet siren eyes that stay steady on his while you whisper. "I've been good. Why not?"

"'Cause I have other plans for you."

You perk up. "What d'you want?"

Joel pats his lap. "Get back here."

You do as he says in a second, but instead of straddling both of his thighs, Joel guides you to one of his thighs. It's a tight squeeze in the armchair, but he makes it work. He pulls your panties to the side and pulls you down, feeling the wetness of your cunt at the first movement of your hips.

"That's it," he coos, tangling one hand in your hand to pull you in for a kiss. "Wanna see you get off on my thigh, baby," he kisses your neck, and smiles when you moan at his words and grind harder on him. "Just like that. Gonna use me? Hm?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna use your guy?"

"Joel." Your movements back and forth create a path of slickness in his thigh, and for someone who occasionally needs a little hand from you to get fully hard, he would believe the horniness in his mind that says he's just as young as ever. He feels he's never this hard — this desperate; the wet patch in his boxers only amplifies the louder you moan for him, and with your mouth back on his, Joel can imagine he's a mess.

Not as much as you. Nonetheless — a mess.

With a red, plump mouth, you pull back from his kisses to hold onto his face. Your other hand is gripping the back of his head, and Joel loves the look of pure lust on your face.

The look of someone who's in another dimension of feeling good.

He did that. Joel groans low in his throat when he thinks of it, and assaults your neck with kisses. One hand comes down to slap your ass, and you yelp — the look of surprise that flashes across your features is replaced by one of absolute pleasure within a split second, and Joel growls at witnessing it.

He slaps the other side with his other hand, and you cry for him.

"You're gonna cum like this." He knows you can. Joel's tested several different ways he can bring you to the edge, and this is one of his favorites. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you with my tongue."

"Oh, god." Your cries are accompanied by whimpers at every push of your hips on his thigh, and the slick sounds covering the air are taking away Joel's ability to think of anything other than you.

"Yeah — 'm gonna fuck you so hard, baby, goddamn it."

"Just like — like you want to? On the table?"

"Yes. Fuck—just like that." Joel sees you're teetering on the edge. He recognizes the trembling of your hand fisted in his hand, and the desperate way your hips start moving, almost losing balance. He leans to capture your bottom lip with his teeth, wanting so badly he could eat you. "Cum for me. If I'm yours, then you're mine, right?" Your hips falter at the words, losing their rhythm due to the shiver that runs through you. "That's it. Show me you're my lady. All fuckin' mine. Always so good for me, so fuckin' perfect—god, yeah. Like that — so damn good. Cum, baby. Don't stop. Keep cummin' for me."

Between your first and second orgasm, Joel gets lost in his mind and the moment.

It's rare for that to happen.

For someone who was used to panic rising so fast in his chest that it led to his heart trying to run out of his chest, or at least beat fast enough for it to feel like that, having no other thoughts but the present one and to submerge in what he's feeling.

He had to stop running from it — he feels.

Life never stopped, even if it felt like it did. No broken watch would stop time, and it was you who brought him the realization.

Joel shows his gratitude in one of the few ways he knows to.

One of the few ways he's at least certain he's good at.

By bringing you white bliss, and making you drown in nothing but good, for as long as he can. He carries you to bed and eats you from behind at first. That way Joel can fuck his tongue deeper inside you — he can bend you as far as you'll go and use his tongue until his jaw aches; until it stings and then burns because the reward tastes sweet on his tongue. It washes away all the hurt and gets his humming against your wet and pulsing core.

When he turns you over to do the same thing again but with you on your back, Joel gets lost in the middle of the way.

Your hands make grabby gestures at him.

Legs shaking, your skin covered in sweat, the way you say, "Please get on top of me." It's all too much.

Joel loses his last piece of clothing in one motion, and does something he should know better than to risk.

Grabbing his cock by the base, he drags the head between the lips of your cunt, pulling a moan from both of you. This is where he usually would grab a condom — after teasing you, giving you just the head, making you spread your legs wider or lock your legs behind his ass just to pull him closer.

Not this time. This time, he leans down until his mouth is on your ear and asks. "Can I? I understand if you don't want to—"

"Please. Yes, yes," you interrupt, hooking your legs around him and already pushing his hips closer.

Joel slides deeper, grunting on your neck. "Always so tight," he sounds drunk. "Lemme in, baby... Like that. Breathe deep." Joel's a big man, and the way you slowly relax to take all of him gets to his head every time. "Atta fuckin' girl, jus' like that."

"Joel this feels even better." The whine around the words makes him cry on your shoulder. He knows this is far from being the last time now.

He pulls out and slams it back in. "Fuckin' hell — it does." He thrusts his hips hard, but not fast. He likes to enjoy your sounds.

The filthy ones that fill the room.

If you sense that something shifted in Joel — something in his core, a foundation that he painted a coat of invisible ink over it as if such a thing existed — nothing about you lets that out.

You always held his face in your hands as he buried himself inside you.

The way you look at him — nothing about it is new, either.

Only this time, Joel lets himself feel it all the way through.

He is your guy, after all. He can feel all the good things you bring out in him because you want him to. It matters to you if he's happy or not. If he's safe, and fed, and not in pain. Joel buries himself in you the same way he buried all his hopes long ago — you found it in him, anyway. Years later, somewhere between all the grief and dust, you picked it up and gave it back to him even if he never asked for it.

Joel's usually harsher with you, not because he's trying to be mean, but because you like it when it hurts a little.

"Wanna feel you tomorrow—" are words he's heard a lot coming from you. Today, you say, "You gonna let your cum drip out of me?"

And it fucks with his head. He nods in answer, snapping his hips harder. Joel glues his forehead on yours and nods, grunting with the effort and the delicious drag of your tight cunt squeezing around him.

"'m close, Joel — feels too good."

That's his favorite song. How out of breath you sound, voice higher than ever. "'m gonna cum when you cum. 'm right behind you, baby. 's ok. Take your time. Feels good? Hm? Taking every fuckin' inch of me?"

"Oh god, Joel." Your hips are pushing back on his, and your arms use his shoulders for leverage as you hold onto him.

He laughs, kissing you through gasps and his own sounds. He shares the same air as you, wanting to fuck you so fast and hard that both of your hips will be hurting tomorrow, but he wants this to go on for a long time more than he wants to lose himself in you.

When your begging for "More, please Joel, more—" starts, Joel sits both of you up, pulling you back to his lap. He puts a pillow behind your back, supporting you against the headboard, and sits on his kneels and heels even if tomorrow they'll be aching.

You give him massages when he's hurting.

Joel needs to be as close to you as possible. Like this, your bodies are one.

Like this, you can plant your feet against the bed and fuck him back, as hard and as fast as you want to.

Joel gets a face full of your boobs bouncing up and down and your screams muffling his moans.

He feels it coming — you cling your arm around his shoulder and pull his face to yours again, your mouth hanging open in a perfect O until your eyes close shut.

Joel seems to lose all notion of time as you fall apart on top of him. He feels it all over your body. The orgasm shakes you whole, the trembling only losing for the way your cunt squeezes so hard around him, making it even harder to pull out. He fucks you deep and hard then, and it takes only a few more thrusts before he's moaning in your ear as he fills you up.

Coming down from a high is always difficult.

With you in his arms, it never happens.

Joel plays with his own cum leaking down your thighs, and smiles to himself when you tremble in sensitivity at his minor touches. He'll take a warm cloth and clean you both later, but first, he'll make a mess.

"All mine," he tells you. His fingers graze your clitoris, drenched in the mix of his own release and yours, and something in your eyes tell him you know what he's talking about.

While he may be unable to say some things — and your existence is challenging even that — he can say this much.

He agrees with you.

"All mine," you echo. Your kiss on his lips taste sweeter than before. They taste like I'm yours and you're mine, and for now, that's all he needs.

Joel has you, and you have him. It's all he needs to start.

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @simply-sams-things — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 — @averysblog — @pedrostories — @fleursirvart

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back. Just saying hehe.

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writingwithadinosaur · 3 months

Text

'somewhere to run' masterlist

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Series Summary: You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, angst, slow burn, smut (18+ MDNI), domestic violence (mostly just talked about or implied, nothing too descriptive, i will put a big warning on those chapters), implied SA (nothing descriptive), jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol use, drug use (not by Joel or reader), technical infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter but these are the biggies

Status: in progress

1: a fresh start

2: book club

3: the statement

4: the carnival

5: first date

6: the confession

7: break the chain

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:

Joel's Morning Routine

Police Station Layout

Love Languages

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

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Sugar & Spice | Joel Miller x Reader

This is a follow up to Soft & Sweet. It can be read as a standalone, but it is highly encouraged to be read as a sequel!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to Joel Miller.

Warnings/tags: MDNI. Foul language. Alcohol consumption. Drunken behavior. Arguing. Implied age gap (no numbers specified). Insecure Joel. Soft Joel. Loss of virginity. Reader is not clueless, just inexperienced. Praise. Dirty talk. Pet names. Joel guides reader through it. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected p in v. Mentions of pain during sex. After care. Unbearable fluff. No mentions of body type or race, except slight implication reader is shorter than Joel. Platonic Ellie x Reader.

Word count: 9.8k (i’m sorry??)

a/n: i am so thrilled to be sharing this with y’all! i’ve been working so diligently on it, and i’m really proud of the final product. special thanks for my bea @cupofjoel for reading so many parts of this and listening to me ramble on and on about ideas. tbh, we have also decided game joel suits this story a lot better, but if you’re imagining hbo joel, he canonically has long hair for this. see pic above. ty all for all the support on part 1!

You went on your date.

Two weeks after sharing your first kiss with Joel Miller, and you had yet to cross paths with him again. The excuse was air tight: Maria was only weeks away from labor which meant neither she nor Tommy were on the patrol routes. Times shifted, and for the next month, you and Joel would be on separate schedules. You knew it wasn’t permanent, that he would have no choice but to face you in a few weeks. But something about the way he averted from your gaze within Jackson’s wall, the quick pick up to his feet whenever you would accidentally cross paths in the town square, had your stomach in a knot.

Joel was avoiding you.

At first, the realization devastated you. You spent days cooped up in your room when you had no other necessary duties, ashamed of the tears you let stain your pillowcase. Your chest lingered with an unfamiliar ache that had once been ignited by his lips, but was now a throbbing reminder of a moment shared and lost. You pitied yourself, and it was sickening.

Then, you were angry. How dare he? Who did he think he was? Even if it was just any old run of the mill kiss, you didn’t think his respect for you would reduce that drastically. To not even acknowledge your presence? It was like a knife to the back. And after dwelling with that demon for some time, you came to realize you had two options: to face him or pretend it never happened.

The former was out of the question.

Therefore, you reduced yourself to compliance. Life couldn’t stop over a momentary lapse of judgment, and while reluctant, you decided to accept the invitation of drinks at the Tipsy Bison. Noah was nice enough; tall, slender, and dazzling hazel eyes that lit up when he smiled. You had met him at the market one afternoon, recognizing one another through a few mutual acquaintances. There were only a handful of people around your age group in Jackson, and everyone knew everyone, for the most part. It was something of a worst nightmare. But assimilating was survival, so that following Friday night, you found yourself sitting across from him in a booth towards the back of the bar, a heavy pour of vodka and seltzer water filling your glass.

Thank goodness for alcohol was what you spent most of the evening thinking. Noah was the kind man who loved to talk, mostly about himself. And while you were content on listening to get yourself through the evening, you couldn’t help but feel bored. Anxiety filled your stomach then; was this how Joel felt when you talked his ear off on patrols?

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about him? This excursion had been a means of forgetting about him and the disappointment of his attitude towards you. But the thought of him only seemed to increase when you realized the company of the man before you was even more disheartening than Joel’s blatant rejection of you.

You felt nothing for Noah. Not anywhere near the way you felt for Joel, seeming to burn from the inside out at the mere thought of him.

When your date came to its natural conclusion, Noah offered to walk you home to which you quickly declined, using the excuse of needing to use the restroom and not wanting to keep him waiting so late. Truthfully, you did not want to be alone with him. The expectant connotation the idea held rubbed you the wrong way. Not like it did with Joel. You would welcome a secluded space again with him.

As soon as you were able to convince Noah you would be fine and bid your farewells with the exchange of an awkward hug and forced smiles, you ran into the bar's bathroom, immediately seeking the sink to splash cold water over your burning cheeks. This was ridiculous, and if you couldn’t get yourself together soon, you were sure you would lose it. You stared at yourself in the mirror, scowling. Something had to give.

Marching back out into the crowded room, you made certain Noah had left before seating yourself up at the bar and ordering another drink. Drinking alone; bleak, but effective. And by your third vodka soda, you were feeling much better. Invigorated, even. To the point where you strode right out of the bar, a bit of an uneven waver to your step, and down the main strip of town. Impulsive and intoxicated, you decided you had every right to protect your sanity, your wellbeing, your heart.

You were going to give Joel Miller a piece of your mind.

Joel didn't know how badly he wanted you until he had you.

A moment so brief, and yet, it was ingrained into the depths of his very soul. How was he supposed to have said no to you? He knew how; he was a grown ass man, and should have had more self control. He should have been more adamant in his denial of your request. Should have ended the conversation before it even started. But the moment you flashed him those somber doe eyes, he knew he was far too weak to listen to any sort of rationale. Thus, the feel of your silken soft lips buzzed on him for days to come. He had the curves of your body mapped out on his hands, even though they only touched you for a short while. And your scent. It hung around him like a cloud, a drug he got addicted to off of one hit.

He needed to clear his head. Therefore, when Ellie asked if she could spend the night at Dina’s, Joel happily obliged. A quiet home to himself. There was nothing Joel Miller enjoyed more.

He settled himself on the couch, keeping only the glow of a lamp on as a source of light, a glass of whiskey he had traded for in hand. He swore he would only drink it on special occasions, but the week's torment proved it necessary. Closing his eyes and leaning back against the cushions, Joel was prepared to will himself to sleep if that meant he could have a moment of reprieve, but as soon as he was beginning to find his peace, a harsh knock pounding against the front door sent him startling to attention. When it came for the second time, he jumped to his feet, pacing towards the door with visible annoyance to his wrinkled brow.

“You’re gon’ wake up the whole damn neighborhood if you keep knockin’ so—”

He halted his surly rant when the door swung fully open, and Joel was shocked to see you standing on his front porch with a bitter look in your eyes. He breathed your name almost questioningly, as if he couldn’t believe it was actually you standing there. A figment of his imagination haunting him for how often he had thought about you over the week, entertaining the idea, for a split second, that you may not be real.

But then, your hands were on his chest, shoving at him until he stumbled back from the doorway, and you were stomping into the house, uninvited.

“The hell are you doin’?!” he barked at you. Joel had never witnessed such a blatant display of indignation from you, at least never directed towards him. To barge over here, unannounced, and show such clear disrespect—

“Why are you avoiding me?!” you screeched, and his agitated expression instantly fell.

Oh.

He saw it then, the bloodshot look in your eyes, the sweat to your brow. He could smell it, the alcohol mixed with your natural aroma he had convinced himself he could still sense around him the entire week. But now, it was here. At his doorstep. Drowning him, consuming him.

Joel sighed heavily. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wasted.” Clearly, that was the wrong answer, because as soon as he said it, you were lurching after him again. But before your palms could make contact with his chest, Joel grabbed at your wrists, stopping them mid air.

Okay, so you were an angry drunk. Great.

“Cut it out,” he seethed, taking a step forward to tower over you. You were looking up at him fiercely, and he hated how much he loved the heated look in your eyes. He would never admit it to you, but Joel rather enjoyed your attitude. It was endearing. Cute. Whenever you went on your seemingly endless rants during your patrols together, he often found it hard to conceal the smirk that would creep onto his lips at your relentless slaughter of whoever had pissed you off lately. The tremble to your bottom lip that he noticed now, however? That he was enjoying a lot less.

He kept your wrists in the confines of his hands when he spoke. “M’not…not avoidin’ you.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He wasn’t necessarily doing it on purpose, and the shift in patrol schedules made it an easy out. But Joel knew it wouldn’t be that simple. You were far too smart, and he respected you far too much to lie to you

“Bullshit,” you slurred, hands balling into tiny fists against his chest. “You–you don’t even look at me. You walk away from me when you see me in town. And–and you won’t, won’t talk to me.” Your words were a sputtered mess, coming out through trembling lips that fueled tear rimmed eyes, leaving Joel to frown deeply at the sight. Oh, sad drunk was worse. So, so much worse.

It was true, he hadn’t spoken to you once since he kissed you that day in the safehouse. The question of why was one he couldn’t seem to answer; maybe he was worried he overstepped, regardless of how adamantly you asked him to. Or even more frightening, he was afraid that you regretted it. That you may never look at him the same way again, the only partner he could even remotely imagine tolerating was now going to be taken away from him over his foolish, selfish indulgence.

“You–you kissed me, and–and now y-you don’t want me anymore.”

Joel’s brows furrowed instantly, and he couldn’t help himself in the way he dropped your wrists from his grip, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. He studied your tear filled eyes with an intense focus, a pain coursing through his gut at the way you looked up at him, sniffling back the growing tears. Joel had seen you cry before, but never at dealing of his own hand. It ate him alive with guilt. “Hey,” he said sternly, but calmly. That was why you were upset? So troubled over it that you got yourself drunk before coming to his doorstep to confront him? It was supposed to be easy for you to tell him things, tell him everything, but he had made you feel otherwise. More guilt. “That just ain’t true,” he whispered, catching one of the tears that cascaded down your right cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Joel had never spent this much time so close to you. Save for the moment in the safe house and this one, he didn't think he had ever touched you. He never had any reason to. He was unprepared for how strong the urge to keep touching you was, wallowing in the hope that he never had to let go.

“Yes, it is,” you argued shakily, your once intense tone losing its strength as you gave way to your emotions. God, he felt like a dick. Joel knew how your brain worked; you probably spent the better half of the week meticulously worrying over what you could have done wrong, when in reality, it was his own compulsions Joel was concerned about.

“Darlin,’” he breathed, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. “You’re…not thinkin’ right, it's late, why don’t we talk about this in the mornin’?” He really didn’t want to argue with you, and if he was going to, he at least wanted to hear your thoughts in a clear state of mind. Contrary to what you may believe in the moment, Joel did give a shit about what you had to say.

“You’re just gonna avoid me again,” you muttered, the pout to your bottom lip only increasing the sharp pain of guilt in his gut.

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No,” Joel stressed, squeezing your cheeks tenderly between his hands until your lips pursed. Your tears had subsided, but the gloss over your eyes was still present. He so badly wanted to ask what he could do to soothe away your sorrow, but his attention was quickly deterred when you slumped forward with a deep huff, languidly wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face in his chest.

Initially, Joel froze. This was…new. Despite the large step of kissing you, Joel had never embraced you. The feeling was odd, foreign. He hadn’t hugged anyone other than Ellie or his brother since, well, since the world went to shit. His hands tingled in mid air, body gone ridgid at your sudden closeness. But eventually, he willed himself to relax, trying not to overthink the moment and gradually wrapping his arms firmly around you, one at your waist, the other at your shoulders, pressing you gently into his chest. The alleviation of all his tension was instantaneous.

“Why don’t I walk you home?” he whispered, letting his fingers paint gentle circles against your scalp. He loved how soft your hair was.

You shook your head, still nuzzled into his chest. “Don’t wanna go home,” you muttered, and Joel felt his stomach tighten in what he could only decipher as anxiety. That pesky little pest, always gnawing at him from the inside out.

He could tell by the heaviness to your body and the weight in your voice the alcohol was catching up to you, fatigue nearby. He contemplated the predicament for a good long while, using the time to relish in the warm and comfortable affection of your shared embrace.

“Alright,” he replied, his voice nearly as low as yours muffled in his shirt. Joel knew it wasn’t the best idea to let you stay, but he was also quickly discovering just how difficult it was for him to deny you. You were both playing a dangerous game.

Wordlessly, Joel led you up the stairs with one hand at the small of your back, and the other at your bicep for stability. Your steps were heavy, and he noted the way you would lift your hand every few moments to rub at your tired eyes. He couldn’t help but find it painfully adorable.

There was no harm in you sleeping here, right? He would lead you to his bed, help you get settled, and dutifully take the couch. There, he could spend the rest of the night reeling over his questionable judgment.

Guiding you up the stairs, Joel made sure to flicker the big light off before maneuvering you into his bedroom. He got you safely seated at the edge of the mattress before you finally gave way to your weak muscles, snorting under his breath at the way you unabashedly splayed back against the mattress, groaning and squeezing your eyes shut. He knew that feeling all too well.

“Want somethin’ else to sleep in?” he asked, observing the undoubtedly uncomfortable jeans and white button up you’d spent your evening in. But you were already shifting on the bed, curling into a fetal position with your head nuzzled into the pillow he usually slept on. You reached for the covers, pulling them absentmindedly around your body, mumbling a nuh uh.

Joel sighed. Well, he wasn’t going to get anywhere else with you tonight, that was certain. So instead of dragging out your consciousness any longer, he carefully approached the side of the mattress, adjusting the sheets so they laid nicely over your huddled body, gingerly swiping a strand of hair that had slid over your eyes back away from your face. He stared at you for a moment then. Even in the darkness, he could make out your soft features; long eyelashes tickling your cheeks, lips slightly parted with gentle puffs of air. He didn’t indulge himself in watching you sleep for too long, but he was a bit alarmed at just how long he could have stood there, content in observing such a mundane activity. Of course, it was only because it was you partaking in it. No one else could make dreams look as peaceful.

He steadied his hands on the mattress, leaning down to press a ghost of a kiss to your temple. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered, leaving the door cracked just the slightest when he left the room. In case you needed him. In case you wanted him. Even if, like it had been so many times before, it was just to have someone to talk to.

Joel didn’t know how much he missed the sound of your voice until he heard it again.

Sharp, searing pain is what you were awoken to. Mostly behind the eyes, radiating through your skull and throbbing in a way that had you struggling to open them. But just as you were able to get a good squint, the sheer shock of your environment outweighed the pain. You shot up with a gasp, frantically looking around and grasping at the unfamiliar bed sheets until it hit you. You were not in some stranger's bed.

This was Joel’s room.

The scent of it alone could’ve told you so, but as you blinked away the lingering fatigue, the night came back to you in pieces. Your less than thrilling date with Noah. Your decision to drown those sorrows with some hefty drinks, which was quickly followed by the even more foolish decision to stomp your way over to Joel Miller's house and tell him off for kissing you then ignoring you for two weeks.

Oh fuck.

You cradled your head in your hands. What did you say? Even worse, what did you do? You were a notoriously emotional drunk, and while you couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact words you chose to give Joel, you knew they couldn’t be good.

Immediately, you began looking around for an escape plan. You could use the window; it was the second story, but these old houses weren’t built too tall and Joel’s yard was covered in grass. Maybe he was still asleep? The front door seemed like a much less likely option. But just as you began contemplating the escape, your eyes quickly fell to the bedside table where a glass of water and a worn bottle of ibuprofen sat. Below each item was a scrap of paper that read drink me and take me, respectively.

You felt that warmth rush into your chest again. Leaning over, you picked up the slips of paper, running your fingers over the scribbled penmanship. There was something incredibly intimate about him leaving you a handwritten note, and you couldn’t help but savor the feeling. Maybe this was proof alone that you didn’t embarrass yourself too bad last night.

You reached over for the water and pills then, popping two into your mouth and chugging back the cool liquid when you heard the creak of the bedroom door. You froze, eyes wide over the rim of the glass as you watched it crack open, Joel’s head peeking through seconds later.

His own brows shot to his forehead. “Oh,” he said quietly, pushing the door open the rest of the way to stand still in the doorframe. “You’re awake.”

You quickly swallowed the rest of the water, setting the glass back on the table, and attempting to smooth back some of the hair in your face. You probably looked like a mess. Meanwhile, the morning suited Joel. You had never seen him so lax; charcoal sweatpants hanging deliciously on his hips, coupled with a black t-shirt that hugged his body a little too well. His usually tame curls were messy, and your fingers ached with the instinct to touch them. This was certainly a sight you could get used to.

“Yeah,” you breathed, opting to fiddle with your nails below the sheets instead. “Thank you, um…thank you for taking care of me.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving you a few gentle nods. “‘Course,” was all he said, and you felt like you could scream. You couldn’t read him, couldn’t decipher the thoughts behind those intense eyes. The anticipation of his mood was almost too much to handle, and before you knew it, the incessant anxiety was taking over.

“Joel,” you whispered after a long moment, watching the way his brows quirked at the sound of his name. And then, just like they had done so many times before, the flood gates opened. “Joel, I’m — I’m so sorry. I don’t, I don’t know what came over me. I went on that stupid date, and it was just, just awful, and I was mad at you, and didn’t know how to handle it–”

He held up a hand to cease your prattling, and you did, shutting your mouth and opting to chew on the inside of your lip instead while you anxiously awaited his voice.

When he dropped his hand, he sighed a heavy sigh, slowly making his way across the room to the bedside. Wordlessly, you shifted over, giving him the space to sit down at the edge of the mattress, turning over his shoulder to face you. The sudden proximity had you tensing. “If anyone should be apologizin’, it’s me.” It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, but you didn’t interrupt. Something in the way his countenance faltered told you this kind of conversation wasn’t all that easy for Joel.

You felt the air leave your lungs when he looked up at you through hooded eyes, the utter remorse in them palpable, honest. “You trusted me with somethin’ personal, somethin’ special, and I — I broke that trust.” Your heart ached in your chest, and you felt guilty for ever assuming he was incapable of owning up to his mistakes. “And m’sorry,” he concluded. All you could do was stare at him, trying to process his earnest apology. Even though it filled you to the brim with adoration, it still didn’t answer why he had avoided you in the first place.

“Do you regret it?” you finally whispered, barely audible. You were afraid of the answer. “Do you…do you regret kissing me?”

The knot returned to his brows. “What? No.” His hand was on your thigh over the blankets then, and you felt your entire body ignite in response. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “No, not at all.”

Taking a brave leap, you carefully placed your own hand atop of his, savoring the familiar roughness. “Then why haven’t you talked to me?” The way your eyes bore into one another, you weren’t sure if you had ever looked at Joel this long. At least not while he was looking back. You thought you would be afraid of the intensity, but quite the contrary. Your bodies had shifted closer to one another on the mattress, like magnets.

He released another heavy sigh, dropping his eyes to your touching hands. His fingers twitched the slightest bit, and you used the opportunity to slip yours between them, curling them over the top of his hand. You gave him a squeeze back. It’s okay, you wanted to tell him. You can tell me. You can talk to me. But you were patient, knowing Joel was the kind of man who needed to come to you in his own time.

“‘Cause I– I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did,” he admitted quietly, so quietly you almost missed it. He still didn’t look at you. “And when I felt the way I did about it…I panicked. Didn’t know what the right thing to do was, didn’t know what you were thinkin’ about it all...” His words trailed, and you considered them for a long moment.

Didn’t know what you were thinkin’ about it all.

What were you thinking? So many things, too many to count. But right there, sitting in Joel’s bed with his hand on you, his body and breath so close, all you thought about was the good. How good you felt when he kissed you. The bad and ugly melted away with your sadness, your anger.

“I think…” you started after a beat, your voice almost as soft as his. “I think that I haven’t stopped thinking about it for a single moment since it happened.”

His eyes were on you again, but this time, there was questioning to them, as if he was searching for any sign that your words were less than sincere. You didn’t give him a second of doubt. Instead, you dragged his hand across your lap and settled it on your hip. He watched you intently, compliant to your ministrations. You used the opportunity to scoot forward again, his hip touching up against your thigh.

“Yeah?” he asked, quietly.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Then, Joel Miller stole your second kiss, and it was just as magical as the first.

The hand that wasn’t on your hip came to cradle the back of your neck, teasing his lips against yours with a delicate brush before giving you the feeling you craved most over the past two weeks. It bursted inside of you like a goddamn bomb, coating your belly in warmth.

You leaned into him, gripping his arms, then his shoulders, holding yourself steady. His kiss was slow, and deep. Savoring every second of your lips. This time around, when his tongue taunted your bottom lip, you parted them. He tasted like coffee and something sweet, and you quickly found it was one of the most delectable tastes to ever touch your tongue.

You were starting to feel hot. Still confined in the clothes you wore the night before, you became acutely aware of the situation. Alone together. In Joel’s bed. With his hands and lips on you. You wanted to feel him everywhere all at once.

“Joel,” you sang during a brief break of air, nails digging into his shirt. He continued to steal quaint kisses, only humming in response. You snuck one of your hands up into his hair, mimicking his hold on you. “I need you…I need you to touch me.”

This seemed to get his attention. He stilled, pulling back only enough for his nose to bump yours. Dark, brown, beautiful eyes blown wide to study you.

“Darlin’,” he whispered, giving your hip a tender squeeze. “We shouldn’t, I mean, I—you’re—”

You knew what he was insinuating. You didn’t have to say it out loud for Joel to assume.

You’re a virgin.

“I don’t care,” you rushed out despite the bubbling anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It had to happen eventually, why not now? Why not with Joel?

You saw him bite at his bottom lip, his gaze ravenous even in the midst of his hesitancy. “I just…I wanna make sure you know what you’re askin’ for.”

“Tell me,” you whispered against his lips breathlessly, tugging at his curls to keep him close. “Tell me you feel nothing for me, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop pushing it.”

Joel groaned, the kind that suggested the frustrating restraint of desire. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.” You knew. God, you knew, but that didn’t stop the rush of heat from darting to your core when he admitted it.

“Then please,” you begged, slinking your arms fully around his shoulders to pull yourself up. You hovered over him, lips barely dancing atop of his. “Please touch me, Joel.”

There were a few more beats of reservation until he simply couldn’t help himself any longer. He stood from the bed, bringing you to your knees with him at the edge of the mattress. Your hands never left him, engulfing yourself fully around his neck, his own steady at your waist, holding onto it for dear life. Then, he was kissing you again with an increased intensity that knocked the wind out of you.

Everything suddenly became overwhelming, the heightened awareness of your body and the way he maneuvered it foreign and exciting. You were unable to mask the whimper that escaped you when his lips abandoned yours for your jaw, your neck, finding a deliciously sensitive spot at the base of your throat and sucking on it gingerly. Your head lulled back in a daze, and you felt his hands slip under the hem of your button up, tickling at the skin of your sides.

“You’re so goddamn soft,” he muttered into the crook of your neck, his hands traveling further forward until they were toying with the buttons on your shirt. “Can I take this off, darlin’?”

You nodded frantically, unable to quite find your voice. You scooted back a bit, giving him space to manipulate his fingers down the front of your shirt, carefully popping each button. When the fabric fell open, Joel seethed a shit under his breath. You weren’t wearing a bra, the cool air peaking your nipples. You felt the heat rising on your skin at the way his eyes took in every inch of you, careful fingers pushing back the collar until the shirt slipped off your shoulders.

No man had ever seen you naked. Well, not purposefully. With the group you traveled with before you ended up in Jackson, it was inevitable to reveal yourself a time or two, changing or bathing in such close quarters. You thought you would be bashful, maybe even uncomfortable. But with the way Joel was looking at you, eyes full of nothing but careful adoration, you felt exhilarated.

“Lay back, babygirl,” Joel instructed softly, the new pet name making your heart flutter in your chest. You obeyed his wish, carefully shuffling yourself until you could lay your head back onto his pillows, watchful eyes following him as he sauntered over to the end of the mattress.

He moved with such diligence, a man of many years who seemed to have perfected just living in the beautiful state he inhabited. You watched him with the same intensity as he rid himself of his own shirt, revealing his sturdy chest and plush belly. Your mouth watered with anticipation when the mattress dipped, Joel crawling up the empty space to settle himself between your legs.

Bare chest to chest, your skin was on fire. You looked up at him wide eyed, suddenly in a suspension of disbelief. This was happening. Really happening. The fantasies you had worked so diligently to shove deep down inside you manifesting before your eyes; you would have been content to never see them flourish, as having Joel Miller by your side in any shape or form was a reward, but this? This was so much better.

He leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to your parted lips. “You okay?” His forearms rested on either side of your head, and when you nodded, he brought a single hand down to toy with the strands of hair at your temple. “If we’re gonna go any further, I need you to talk to me, darlin’. Think you can do that?”

You nodded again, and he gave you a knowing look, a small smirk quirking up on his lips. “Sorry,” you squeaked. “Yes…yes, I-I can do that.”

Talking. Talking was good. Nerves were inevitable, and hearing Joel’s voice would soothe you through it. Dampen the fears, the inexperience, the insecurities.

“And if you want me to stop,” he continued, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses littered your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts where they ghosted over your nipples, aching for attention. “Understand?” His lips wrapped around one of them then, and you arched off the mattress with a gasp.

“Y-yes,” you mewled. Maybe talking was going to be much more difficult than you expected. “I-I understand, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he praised softly, and good god if it didn’t shoot straight to your core, which you were now vividly aware was pressed up against the growing outline in his sweatpants.

He continued his descent, gracing your skin with his feathery kisses and stopping just short of the waistband of your jeans. The discomfort from sleeping in them was quickly replaced by the discomfort below them. You were dripping.

“Do you touch yourself, pretty girl?” Joel whispered against the skin below your belly button, bringing a hand down to slowly undo the buttons on your jeans. “When you’re all alone, do you make yourself feel good?”

You had your arms splayed to either side of you, unsure of where to touch, to grab, fingers balled into fists. His question alone drew another whimper from you, and you heard the zipper on your pants go down.

“Yes,” you answered honestly. You had done your fair share of exploration over the years, always in private, and always just enough to get you over the edge so many seemed to talk so highly about. But you never felt this hot with your own hands.

Joel hummed in approval. “Good. That’s good. Lift up—” he said, giving your thighs a light tap. You lifted your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assisted him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he was back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settled further down the mattress. His face was inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier.

“And when you touch yourself,” he continued, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You could feel his hot breath through your panties, and it made you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?”

The subject matter was crude at its core, but something about the words coming off Joel’s lips made them sound completely earnest. Like he wanted to know, needed to know. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last without his attention where you needed it most.

“Two. Sometimes, maybe three, but I like—” Your chest heated with embarrassment. You had spoken so openly about so many things with Joel over your months as partners, but never anything like this.

His brows perked up in interest from between your legs, continuing the teasing caresses of your thighs. “What, darlin’?” He placed a kiss on the inside of your left thigh, and you could’ve sworn you saw stars. “What do you like? You can tell me.”

Your breath was no longer your own, heaving uncontrollably. Sweat rolling on your temples. He certainly knew how to work you up.

You bit your bottom lip. “I like…I like to rub my clit,” you whispered, wincing at the way the vulgar words sounded coming out of your mouth. But Joel practically growled below you, eyes closing momentarily.

He leaned forward, breathing in your core and running his nose along the patch of dampness. That was when your hands abandoned the sheets, instinctively coming up to grab at his curls. “Oh, baby,” he hummed, hands leaving your thighs to curl his fingers into the waistband of your panties. “Yeah, I can do that. Promise to take real good care of you.”

And you believed him, which had you wasting little time in lifting your hips again, allowing him to strip you of your last piece of clothing. He took a moment to rake his eyes over you before leaning back down, your glistening center clenching around nothing as the cold air tickled the flesh.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, guiding the crux of your knees over either shoulder.

You were fully exposed to this man, for the first time ever to the eyes of another, and yet, you had never felt more exhilarated. You wondered if that was simply because it was Joel. No one else in this fucked up world could make you feel so comfortable as to bare your heart, soul, and body to them.

“Joel, please,” you begged again, this time, giving a bold tug to his hair. “Please.” You needed something, anything he would provide you.

He didn’t keep you in anticipation much longer. He wetted his lips before his head dipped between your legs, warm tongue licking a slow strip across your outer lips, all the way up to your clit that stood taut, moving the tip of his tongue in calculated flicks.

“Oh, fuck!” you shrieked, eyes screwing shut and hips bucking up off the mattress. Joel was quick to combat this, sturdy hands gripping you by the hips and bringing you back down to earth while he paid mindful attention to your swollen clit, just like you asked him to.

But it was much different having someone’s mouth on you. Joel’s mouth. The familiar coil in your belly built much quicker while he suckled on the sensitive bud. “Joel,” you moaned, to which he hummed in response, sending the most delectable vibrations through you. “More. Your fingers, please.”

He never took his lips off of you when you felt the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sunk his two digits in, the stretch was satisfying. The way he worked up your arousal aiding in how easy it was to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you.

You couldn’t quite process it; the attentiveness, how effortless it was for him to listen to your needs. Word of mouth had given you a low standard of expectation for your first experience, but something told you Joel would exceed every string of disappointment.

He began to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head. You were singing his name like a prayer, the only word you could find as your abdomen tightened, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs. You craned your neck up from the pillows, compelling yourself to find the image of him nestled between your thighs. And fuck, was it glorious. His hooded eyes were already on you, pupils blown wide, breathing frantically through his nose while his lips continued their ambush on you. You quickly brushed the stray curls from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw fell slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you. At first, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Joel kept working his tongue over your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flung back, thighs clamped around his head, and a lewd moan echoed off your lips. Thank god no one else was home, as you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear how good Joel Miller was making you feel.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” You were a sputtering mess while he teetered you towards overstimulation, but soon enough, his sucking turned to gentle kisses, and his fingers slowed their assault. When he dragged them out of you, you could hear the sound of your slick. And when you finally had the energy to peer down at him, you could see his patchy beard covered in it, too. But Joel was as much a taker as a giver it seemed, for when he pulled his face away from between your thighs, you watched him bring the glistening digits up to his lips and suck them clean.

He grinned down at you when he popped them out of his mouth. “So damn sweet, darlin’.” This had you giggling, a mixture of inevitable embarrassment and bliss. You brought your hands up tiredly to cover your heated cheeks, but Joel was having none of it. He dragged them down, replacing them with peppered kisses to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until he landed on your lips, joining in on the soft laughter between each peck.

It was cathartic. Sharing in such joy after a moment of such intensity. You had always thought sex needed to be this serious, meticulous act. That didn’t seem to be the case with Joel; he was the same him, you were the same you. And that was enough.

Hovering above you again, you wrapped your still shaky legs around his hips. His hands were back at your hairline, now doused in sweat, carefully pushing back the pieces that stuck to your skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yes.” You snaked a hand in between the two of you, mimicking his soft caresses to the saturated patches of hair on his jaw. “More than okay.”

You were fucking incredible. On cloud nine, in fact. Every worry of the day, week, month seemingly lost to the euphoria that was Joel’s hands on you.

“We can stop at any time if it’s gettin’ too much,” he reminded you, and you knew the terse look in his eye came from nowhere else but concern.

Your brows pulled over your eyes, pouting up at him. “I don’t wanna stop,” you muttered, tracing your finger over his jawline. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, fuck. No, sweetheart, ‘course I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you. “I just want you to know that even if we don’t go all the way…that doesn't make this a failure.”

You could’ve cried right then and there. This man. This stoic, brooding man who you had spent so much time avoiding your feelings for might have been the sweetest, gentlest man you had ever encountered underneath all of that heavy armor he insisted on carrying. You wanted to help him with the weight, take as much of it as you could muster onto your shoulders, and free him of his worries and pain.

You took a deep breath, swallowing back the lump in your throat and bringing both hands up to cradle his cheeks. He looked you in the eye, focused. “I want to feel this with you,” you spoke softly, never faltering from his deep gaze. “I trust you, Joel. With everything I have.”

Taking a leap of faith, you trailed your hands from his cheeks all the way down his torso until your fingers fiddled with the tie on his sweatpants. You gave it a tug, letting the stings fall open. He watched you, and when he felt the still of your hands, took it upon himself to slowly peel back, shuffling to the edge of the mattress to rid himself of his pants.

When they hit the floor, your lips parted in a sharp inhale. Joel Miller carried every trait of a man who was well endowed, but to see the sacred part of him up close was an entirely different experience than imagining it. Thick and already leaking with precum, you were enamored by the dark vein that ran along the underside of his cock, standing proud and eager against his lower stomach. You tried not to let your eyes linger on it too long when he crawled back up to you, settling between your legs. You felt another rush of arousal when his warm cock laid up against your core.

“I’m a little nervous,” you whispered, scared that if you admitted it too loud, he would change his mind.

That couldn’t be further from the truth; you knew so when he graced you with that subtle, doting smile. The kind that just reached his eyes enough for you to see the little crinkles at the edges.

“I know, baby, but I promise I’ve got ya. It’s just you and me, okay?” You nodded slowly, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion again. Your eyes glistened, the tenderness of his voice healing something deep inside you. “If we’re bein’ honest, I’m a little nervous too.” His grin only increased upon your reaction, looking up at him as if that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “S’been a long time for me.”

Oh. You suppose you never thought about it that way. You gave way to the moment, leaning up to press a quaint kiss to his lips. “You and me,” you echoed his words and his smile.

He returned the gentle kiss. “Hold on to me,” he instructed, and you brought your arms back around his neck, keeping him close. He reached between your bodies, and you felt the tip of his cock run across your awaiting folds. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, tensing in anticipation. “Relax, baby. S’gonna feel a lot better if you try to relax.”

You heeded his warning, taking in a deep inhale through your nose and out through your mouth. “Go slow, please,” you whimpered. His forehead touched yours when he nodded.

“I will,” he promised, nudging the tip of him against your hole, still slick with arousal. And you were grateful for it when he notched himself inside of you, eliciting a gasp from the both of you.

You knew it was just the tip of him, but that didn’t stop your eyes from rolling back. Warm and firm, nestling perfectly inside of you. You welcomed the intrusion, continuing to focus on your breathing. “A little more,” you urged him, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of neck. Joel was panting right along with you, and despite the growing lust, kept his promise of taking it slow. He guided himself an inch further, then another, another, until you were digging your nails into his scalp, a whine coming through gritted teeth.

The stretch stung, but his pace kept it bearable. You did your best to stay perfectly still, worrying if you moved too much any way, the pain would worsen. Tears began to prickle at your waterline, a combination of discomfort and every overwhelming emotion coursing through you.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised, lips tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re doin’ so good for me. So, so good.”

His genuine words made you want to do better, sending little flutters through your stomach. It was astonishing the way his words alone could inflict such a response from you.

After a moment, you were able to relax into the intrusion. Eyes still shut, you nudged your nose up against his. “Just…just do the rest all at once,” you squeaked. The sooner, the better. Dragging it out would only elongate the process of getting it over with, and you couldn’t wait any longer to cross the threshold. He was still for a moment, and then, placing a steadying hand on one of your hips, Joel sheathed himself fully inside of you, filling you to the brim.

Your lips fell open in a wail, the tears that lingered at your eyes falling over your cheeks. Joel’s delicate lips were on your neck, leaving kisses and whispering words of encouragement.

“M’gonna stay just like this for a minute,” he said after a moment, your walls involuntarily fluttering around him, getting use to the sheer size of him. With every passing moment, you willed yourself to unwind, focusing on the sound of Joel’s breathing.

You took your time, only opening your eyes when you really felt ready. You found Joel had lifted his head from your neck, already looking at you with tender concern. “It’s okay,” you panted, nodding slowly, sniffling back the tears. “I’m…it’s not so bad.” It was only then that you realized how full you felt, full of Joel. He was reaching a depth of you otherwise untouched, the thought alone having you clench around him.

He grunted, and you noted the twitch of restraint in his focused brow. “You can move,” you said, bringing a shaky hand up to push the sweat-clad curls off his forehead.

He looked at you hesitantly. “Are you sure—”

“Joel,” you hummed, carefully tilting your hips up, inviting him in. Another shared gasp. “Please.”

The thrusts began as gentle rocks of his hips, never pulling too far in or out, just enough to explore the feeling of him moving inside of you. The pain was no longer the instigator of your tears — it was the intensity of Joel’s eyes, looking down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

Then, he was grinding into you in languid strokes, the sound of slick skin singing in the air. Gradually, you got used to the fullness, anticipating it every time he would pull out of you before advancing forward. Soft grunts fell from Joel’s lips when he’d hit the deep spot inside of you, something about the sounds he made sending shivers down your spine.

But the real pleasure came when he reached a hand between your conjoined bodies, finding your neglected clit, and circling the two of his fingers around it.

The moan that fell from your lips was obscene. Oh. Oh, this was new. Suddenly, the pain was a dampened after thought; the feeling of fullness mixed with the sensation of his fingers rubbing at your sensitive bud sent your body alight. You didn’t even notice how vocal you had become, wanton whines and increased panting, until you felt Joel’s lips at your ear again.

“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. “That feelin’ good baby?”

So good. Oh, it was so fucking good. You wanted to tell him, scream it at the top of your lungs, but your voice was caught in your throat, too overwhelmed by the newfound ecstasy. Your ankles had mindlessly latched around his back, too hellbent on keeping him deep inside of you to let go.

When the circling of his fingers picked up, so did his thrusts. The weight of his heavy balls slapped against you, nestling up into the same spot his fingers found earlier, leaving you to arch off the mattress.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he growled, teeth grazing your carotid. “You feel so fuckin’ good around me.”

You were a whimpering mess, legs starting to tremble again around him. “More, Joel,” you breathed, not even quite sure what more of you were asking for. “P-please, I need more.”

He seemed to understand, because before you knew it, he was rutting into you quicker, deeper. The curve of his cock worked into you, somehow finding the right spot inside of you every single time. Your body moved on its own violation, hips grinding upwards to meet him in the middle of every thrust. The litany of your moans and his grunts sung through the air like sweet music, and you thought you may have never experienced life before the way you did in that moment; body and mind completely consumed by another, this feeling forever Joel’s to give you for the first time.

You were burning from the inside out, unable to keep up with the way your body gave way to the pure euphoria coursing through you, until the pressure in your belly was too much to bear. Your toes curled, legs trembled so hard that they fell limp around him, a fire traveling through you from your point of connection.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck — uungh — Joel—!”

He held you through the entirety of your second release, stronger than any you had ever experienced. You clenched around him feverishly, coating his swelling cock in your honey. Your head thrown back, you felt the tickle of his hair against your neck as he buried his face into the crook, the sputter of his hips growing sloppy as you milked him towards the edge. You weren’t even down from the high when his hand abandoned your clit, quickly pulling himself out of you and giving himself a few steady pumps. You opened your eyes just in time to see the way his lips fell apart and his face contorted in beautiful bliss before he was spilling himself onto your stomach.

You had low expectations for your first time, always had. The idea of finishing not even a pressure you bothered to burden yourself with. It would be easier to pretend it was something magical, extraordinary. A fluke, even. But the truth was…it was just Joel.

You and me.

His words continued to ring true. And when you both settled your breathing, finding each other again in the exchange of wide, wondrous eyes, you slowly fell back into the soft fit of laughter. Pure contentment. A happiness long abandoned to a world that robbed you of any glimpse of achieving it.

When he kissed you then, soft and sweet, you knew he felt it too.

The rest of the morning was spent in a domestic stupor. You spent a good chunk of time basking in each other's arms, curled up against Joel’s chest, tracing the shape of every scar you could find. You didn’t press him for their backstories, instead, choosing to admire the character and history they gave him.

When you both finally found the strength to get up, he suggested a shower. At first, he was content to let you go alone, offering to take one after. But the glint in your eye and the pout at your lip told him you had other plans, and soon enough, you were both crammed into the small space. It didn’t bother you, giving you ample excuse to have your arms around him and feel his hands on you.

He washed your hair, the soothing circles of his fingers nearly aiding you back to sleep right then and there. Of course, he was stubborn in letting you return the favor, so you settled for a gentle massage to his shoulders while he worked his fingers through his curls.

He offered you some of his clothes, considering yours reeked of alcohol and sweat from the night prior. One of his flannels and clean pair of sweatpants, which you rolled up to avoid tripping over.

He graciously invited you downstairs, offering to whip up some breakfast and get a pot of coffee started. There was something undeniably sexy about Joel in such a casual setting. You had never spent this much time in his house, normally only stopping by for a brief moment to pick up something you had left behind on patrol or drop off a menial item Ellie asked to borrow.

The air was different now. Something palpable shifting, and it was equal parts frightening and exhilarating. You felt like you were glowing.

You had so many questions. So many doubts. Hopes. Afraid that if you pushed them too soon, you would risk the chance of losing an opportunity for something altogether. So you kept your mouth shut, opting to sit atop the counter next to the stovetop while Joel cooked, savoring the scent of brewing coffee and freshly washed hair.

When the pot dinged, Joel reached in the cupboards for two mugs, and just as he poured yours, handing it to you, the front door slammed open then shut. You both froze.

“I’m home!” Ellie’s voice shrieked, followed by the sound of her shuffling about and approaching footsteps.

“Shit,” Joel muttered quietly under his breath, bracing a hand against the counter. You turned your head towards the kitchen entryway just as she approached it, the guiltiest look on both of your faces.

The thud of her backpack hit the wooden floor, and as soon as she looked up, her eyes began to process the sight before her. She fluttered her gaze between the two of you, damp haired, disheveled clothes, tired eyes. Not even a beat later, a brazen grin spread across her cheeks.

“Well, well, well,” she tsked slowly, folding her arms across her chest. You bit at the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing, maybe crying? Both. You could see Joel going rigid in your peripheral, knuckles white against his own coffee mug.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who had a slumber party.”

You literally snorted out a laugh, immediately bringing your hand up to smack over your mouth and nose at the sound.

“Ellie!” Joel barked, but the teenager remained unfazed. She flashed you her knowing smirk before her eyes were back on Joel in torment.

“What?!” she feigned innocence. “I’m just sayin’, it’s about fucking time you two stopped dancing around each other. It was painful to watch, seriously.”

“Oh my god.” When you looked over to Joel, his face was bright red, jaw set tense while he glared at the girl in plain irritation. You couldn’t help but find it utterly adorable and quite amusing. “Would’ya just…just go to your damn room or somethin’?”

Ellie simply continued her coy stare while she leaned down to pick up her pack, slinging it over her shoulder. She turned to you then, putting on her best polite facade and bidding you a proper good morning, to which you returned, both quite giggly. Just before she slipped out of the room, she stopped short, peeking her head back in.

“Oh, hey,” she chirped towards you. “They’re showing a new tape in the barn later. And this one —” she gave Joel an aggressive point, “has patrol duty. You wanna come with me instead?”

You had experienced your fair share of activities with Ellie. You were friends. The age difference could not diminish the joy the girl brought to you and so many others in Jackson; she was a firecracker, reminding you a bit of yourself at that age. A breath of fresh air to the community after months of stiffs who had nothing better to do than gossip or stir up trouble.

And yet, the nonchalance of her invitation — as if it was the clearest thing in the world to her in that moment, that embarrassing, unexpected moment — made your heart swell.

You smiled back at her, nodding. “I’d love to.” You would love to spend time with Ellie. Joel’s Ellie. Undoubtedly the most important thing in the world to him, and she wanted to share her evening with you.

As she puttered out of the room, you waited until you heard her door shut upstairs before your eyes were back on Joel. His own were an array of annoyance and embarrassment, to which you returned with a reassuring smile.

He went on to mutter something about that kid being the death of him, and you let him. Let him grump away as he continued the breakfast preparations, otherwise casual over the intrusion. He wasn’t ashamed that she saw you, caught you both like this. The realization of it all consumed you rather rapidly. As you watched him tend to you in his kitchen, his home, you felt a bit of that worry dissipate into more hope.

And for the first time since Joel Miller came into your life, you could truly imagine what it would be like to be his.

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Text

Soft & Sweet | Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

Warnings/tags: Jackson era. So much tension. Fluff. Some angst. Foul language. Suggestive material. Grumpy Joel. Anxious reader. Soft Joel. Insecure Joel. Somewhat innocent reader; not clueless, just inexperienced. Implied age gap, but numbers are not specified. No mentions of body type or race.

Word Count: 4.2k

SEQUEL.

a/n: honest to god this started as one thing, and turned into something completely different but i’m not…upset about it? also, thank you to @cupofjoel who literally listened to me talk about this so much for some reason ?? & for reading bits and giving me feed back ?? such a wonderful human

Joel Miller was easily your least preferred choice of a patrol partner.

There was no doubting the feeling was mutual, either, but the fact of the matter was that you two were a perfect match. You were shorter, faster, and easier to hide; he was stronger, wiser, and knew the patterns of raiders and infected alike. A constant push and pull that gave the quaint city of Jackson a semblance of peace.

In the beginning of your time together, that was what you had to remind yourself. That your time beyond the gates was a representation of how deeply you felt for the people of Jackson, and how important it was for you to keep them and yourself safe.

Regardless of how annoyingly grumpy and disengaging your partner was.

At first, it offended you. How could a man cut from the same cloth as the warm hearted Tommy Miller be such an ass? You had been promised he was like that with everyone, and that you were no special target of his distaste. Over the first few weeks he had occupied Jackson, you observed this, and were pleased to find out he was, in fact, like that with everyone. Well, everyone except the foul mouthed girl he arrived with who you took a liking to.

Ellie was fun. Ellie knew how to relax. You often thought what a good team you two would make if she wasn't a kid, strictly forbade from participating in patrol.

So, you got stuck with Joel.

What once felt offensive turned into pure annoyance at his unwillingness to entertain you. The first few times you two rode together passed the walls of Jackson, you thought he may actually strangle you for your nonstop questions and chatter.

"You really do have a stick up your ass, old man." You had told him when he ignored every attempt you made at getting to know him.

Eventually, your annoyance turned into understanding. He had no obligation to you, other than watching your back and keeping you both safe, both of which were promises - despite his sour attitude - you never doubted he would maintain. And with that understanding, you found opportunity.

Just because Joel didn't want to talk didn't mean you couldn't. And whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to listen.

That was how it started. Utilizing the stoic man as your very own personal diary. Your rides were underwhelming for the most part, and the tellings of your personal life and worries seemed far more entertaining than feeding into his brooding silence.

You told him about anything and everything. Your distaste for the messy habits of your housemate, who despite being a few years older than you, did not keep the space as neat as you would have liked. Your discontent for the choice of dinner options. How excited you were for the new movie screenings, as some of the other patrolmen had found new tapes during their scavenging.

How much you missed your parents.

How hard of a time you were having making real friends.

Some days, you had even forgotten he was there. Always trotting a few paces behind you, silent, observing. Eventually, you got the impression he wasn't retaining anything you even said, but you didn't stop. The routine was too engrained in you. You met at the stables, he asked the same three questions - Did'ya pick up your gun? Did'ya double check the post assignment? Do you have your flashlight? (you forgot it once, and he wouldn't let you live it down) - then you mounted your horses, said goodbye to the men at the gate, and once you were a good mile away from Jackson, you released the flood gates.

What you didn't know, however, was that you couldn't have been more wrong. Joel was listening. Retaining every word, in fact. Calculating everything to memory, even deducing his own conclusions and opinions about the matters you held near and dear to your heart. He had gotten use to the one sided therapy sessions you had every week, and perhaps a small part of him, as subconscious as it may have been, even enjoyed it.

So when you showed up to this mornings patrol quieter than the dead, Joel knew something was off.

He was watching you. You rode ahead of him, as you always did, shoulders slightly slumped and eyes forward, a large contrast from the way they usually flitted about to take in the sights around you. Your animated nature reduced to tame compliance to the silence he had once begged for between the two of you.

Now, he couldn't help the gnawing sensation of missing the sound of your voice, a pain in his gut telling him this wasn't just any old fluke.

About forty-five minutes into your ride towards he nearest rest stop, you heard him expel a great sigh before the sound of his stallions hooves picked up, and suddenly, he was riding beside you. When you didn't acknowledge him, Joel rolled his eyes.

"Alright, what's wrong?" he grumbled. That earned him a side eye, noting the unusual droop to your normally bright features.

You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean what's wrong?

"Somethin's wrong," he pressed.

"Why do you say that?" you challenged, a lilt of annoyance in your voice as you shot him a scowl.

He tried to bite back the edge in his voice, but it came unprompted. "Because you ain't said a damn word in almost an hour, and I'm pretty sure that's an all time record."

You huffed out an incredulous laugh, your breath painting soft patterns of smoke in the cold air, shaking your head rapidly. "You know," you started, returning your bleak gaze to the path ahead of you. "For someone who bitched about how much I talk, you gotta weird way of appreciating me shutting up for once."

He was quiet, then, and you were instantly filled with a wave of regret at how quickly your sharp tongue attacked him.

Joel wasn't too offended. He had been ripped on a lot worse by people who were substantially nastier than you. He was, however, concerned. He knew what it was liked to feel cornered in a moment of uncertainty, so instead of pressing you further in the moment, he took a calculated breath, tearing his eyes off of of you and nodding his head towards the structure approaching in the distance.

"Let's rest for a bit, yeah? Winds pickin' up more than I'd like to be dealin' with."

The safe house was cozy, quaint. Quiet. A one story studio format, likely an old vacation home. They had gotten the fire place cleared a few months prior, making it the perfect place to dwell during long patrols. Joel crouched in front of it now, lighting the wood while you went through the procedure of barricading the door. You had yet to have any issues this far out from the perimeter, but you didn’t like taking any chances. That was something you and Joel agreed on.

Better safe than sorry.

As soon as the flames were lit, warmth instantly overcame the small room, and you felt a weight lifted off you in more ways than one when you shimmied out of your bulky winter coat and boots. Your toes cracked against the hardwood floors as you padded over to the fireplace, settling down criss cross beside Joel as he prodded at the wood.

You could feel him eyeing you, and it took every bit of willpower you had to keep your gaze focused on the flames, hands outstretched slightly to soothe your chilled fingertips.

He cleared his throat, setting the prong back into its holder. “I never said I wanted’ya to shut up,” he grumbled, and your stomach instantly fell at the sadness laced in his tone.

You sighed, finally allowing yourself to look over at him. His features remained hard as they always were, but his eyes spoke a different story. Soft. Apologetic. He may have driven you absolutely crazy, but you knew Joel Miller was a decent man. Decent enough for you to confide in, and certainly decent enough to at least give some sort of shit about you.

“I know,” you said quietly, swallowing the unexpected lump in your throat. You were clearly feeling sensitive today. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Joel shook his head, settling down to sit beside you. You both looked into the flames, seemingly lost in their allure. This was usually how stopping at the safe house went; dawdling around the fireplace, taking turns napping, the occasional reluctance on Joel’s end when you begged and thoroughly convinced him to join you in one of the few board games or puzzles scattered about.

But the energy was different today. You both knew that.

“I got asked on a date,” you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they passed your lips.

Joel’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. That certainly was not what he had expected you to say. In all your time as partners, relationships had never come up as a topic of conversation. Friendships, sure. But Joel was more than confident that there was an unspoken rule about anything beyond that: you didn’t pry into his love life - as so many others in his small circle thought they had the right to do - therefore, he had no right asking about yours.

He waited a moment, carefully collecting his thoughts. “That…sounds like it should be a good thing, ain’t it?” he asked, cocking his head over his shoulder to study you. You still had your eyes on the flames, arms wrapped around your knees that were cradled against your chest.

You shrugged, nodding a few times. He couldn’t help but blow a soft chuckle through his nose. “Then why d’ya look like it’s the worst news you’ve gotten all year?”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “Because-!” you heaved, the frustration you had worked tirelessly to shove down that morning returning instantly upon his questioning. You felt helpless. You felt ridiculous. Being able to shake off boughs of otherwise meaningless emotions was a strength of yours. It was one of the very few reasons you thought Joel may have put up with you: you didn’t take any shit, and neither did he.

To be dancing with the idea of letting those walls fall too far down…it was a vulnerability you didn’t like entertaining.

You took a slow breath in through your nose, out through your mouth, gradually bringing your hands down from your face. Joel watched the way your jaw tightened as you appeared to wrestle your thoughts into words. Your lips parted once, but you shut them instantly. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you began picking at the edges of your nails. Maybe that would distract you from the embarrassment that was to follow.

“Because I’ve never really…done that before,” you mumbled, and when he didn’t speak at first, you thought he may have not heard you.

Cautiously, you dragged your eyes towards Joel. He was still looking at you, but now, there was a soft sort of inquisition to his eyes.

“What do’ya mean never done that before?” he questioned, an arch to his brow.

You felt your cheeks filling with heat, chewing on the inside of your lip to keep yourself from becoming a blabbering mess. An anxiety filled the pit of your stomach, one that suggested you weren’t all too thrilled to be having this conversation.

Having this conversation with Joel.

You knew he wouldn’t make fun of you, he never had in any of your endless ramblings. But that didn’t stop you from feeling the affects of the intimate nature of the topic.

You shrugged again, slower this time. “I don’t know…dated. Gone on a date. Been that close to a guy, I mean, hell, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet-”

“Wait,” Joel cut you off, a deep crease forming between his brows. “You ain’t even had your first kiss?”

When you looked at him then, he could have crumbled under the weight of your somber eyes. Filled with a disappointment and shame he knew all too well.

Fuck.

“Didn’t have much time, what with the world ending and all,” you muttered. It reminded Joel just how young you were. How much you had missed. How much you had yet to see, learn, experience. He would never pity you — he respected you far too much for that. He did, however, feel for you. He knew you. Knew what you had to offer the world, and you were given no chance to do so. Something so basic, so pure, robbed from you.

He sighed softly, returning his eyes back to the flames. How desperately he wished he could burn away his worries in them. He was sure you felt the same way, too. “S’not somethin’ you should overthink. If it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen.” Never did Joel Miller think he would be giving relationship advice. At least not to someone other than Ellie, and even then, he hoped it was a good long while before he even had to entertain the idea. He certainly didn’t feel qualified.

“But what if—” you stopped yourself again, the same discomfort invading your stomach at the thought of revealing such sensitive insight. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the security of the safe house. Or maybe it was just Joel, but you realized then that there was no other time, place, or person you would rather let your guard down for.

“What if I’m no good at it?” It was hardly a whisper.

“That ain’t possible.” He said it so quickly. Too quickly. So much so that you were both exchanging looks at each other at the same time, the panic seizing his features in a faint blush, the heat rising in your own cheeks at…what? You couldn’t pinpoint at first the reason why his assurance made you react in such a way, until the heat of his eyes on you was more intense than the fire.

There was no denying that Joel Miller was one of the most handsome men in Jackson. You had acknowledged that, realized the idea was far too preposterous to entertain, and stored it away the moment you met him. And now here the thought was, rushing back in and invading your brain with a sick sense of desire.

Joel cleared his throat heartily, immediately reverting his gaze back to the fire. “Maybe you could–”

Again, the words came before you knew what you wanted to say. How much you wanted to say. This was not your usual dynamic. You were use to a free tongue around him, and now, you were second guessing every word you spoke. This was why you didn’t foster those ideas. This was why you treaded carefully with every man in Jackson: your sense of self slowly started to feel stripped from you the moment you caught whiff of being roped in, and that terrified you.

Of course he had thought about it. How could he have not? You were beautiful, spritely, and confident. Not in a pompous fashion, but in a way that demanded you were sure of yourself. It was a rare trait for most of the women he had met thus far in Jackson.

And yet, he had never seen you more indecisive than in this very moment.

Your lingering words penetrated him with an unforeseen force, and he held his breath, suddenly vividly aware of the topic of conversation and what you may have been insinuating.

Beautiful, spritely, confident. And way too young for him.

“Listen, I don’t-” He tried to start, wondering if he was working towards talking you out of your line of thought or talking himself out of considering it. But you were already sitting up onto your knees, facing him with a dire look in your eyes.

“No one would know.” Your voice was a rushed whisper, contradicting the very words it spoke, as if you were shielding the idea from the universe. That way, it couldn’t get its grasp on it, chew it up and spit it out before it even had the chance to breathe into life.

You couldn’t believe yourself, a new sort of desperation you hadn’t experienced bubbling to the surface. You blinked at him rapidly while you spoke. “I mean I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t tell, it would only be one time. You’d be doing me a favor, it’s not like it actually means — I mean it’s not that it doesn’t mean anything, I just—”

Joel reached out for you then, his hand coming up to grip you by the cheeks, squishing your lips into a pout and shushing your terribly embarrassing ramble. The first time he was able to shut you up. This was the chatter he was use to.

You felt your stomach drop. You weren’t sure if it was due to the impending rejection, or because the burn of his hand on your skin left you in a daze. Either way, you were silent. Wide eyes on him, attempting to read his ever indecipherable expression.

“Listen darlin’,” he said, his even tone giving you equal parts comfort and unease. You thought you could swim in the darkness of his eyes, save for the flames that glossed off of them. Intentional, focused. “Don’t think for a moment that the thought of kissin’ you is somethin’ I wouldn’t enjoy, I just…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He released your cheeks then. You shouldn’t be offended. Rationally, you knew that. But you couldn’t ignore the festering anger. You pushed up to your feet, staring down at him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

“Why not?” you challenged, the bite to your tone making no effort to cover up your flustered offense to his denial.

Joel looked up at you with a tilted head and frown, not expecting such an outburst. You had always had a bit of a temper, sure. But perhaps he had gotten so use to it directed towards other people and things he had no relation to that its presence now was unsettling.

He let out a heavy sigh before groaning to his feet, both of you facing each other in a stand off of ambivalence, desire, and caution.

“Because,” he started, raising his brows at you. “You’re – we aren’t—” he struggled with his words, displaying a frustrated countenance at the inability to find them. You waited, your nails digging into your biceps where they were crossed. He looked around, his hands waving reflexively in the air as he explained. “We’re all’lone out here, and you’re…you’re clearly feelin’ upset. Tommy trusted me to look out for’ya. Last thing I need is to go on disrespectin’ or - or takin’ advantage of you like that while you’re on my watch.”

You sneered a chuckle, shaking your head at him. “Take advantage of me? I asked you to do it! Do you really think I’m that fucking naive?” There was a foreign agitation to your voice. “Besides, it’s just a stupid little kiss!”

“If it’s so goddamn stupid, why’re you askin’ me to do it?” he snapped back, a flustered blush rushing up through his neck and into his cheeks.

“Because you’re the only one I trust with this kinda stuff, you jerk!”

Heat. Heat was rising and flowing through the room, through both of you.

“Fine!” he shouted, running out of words to combat you with.

“Fine!”

How you came to be where you were, standing chest to chest, the tension morphing the space between you, heaving frantic breaths into each others faces, neither of you knew. Neither of you seemed to mind, either.

Your hands fell to your sides then, craning your neck up to look at Joel. His nostrils were flared wide, the familiar etch between his brows prominent. A shiver ran down your spine then when he damped his lips, slowly. The emotion that had built over the minutes slowly dissipated just by the sight of his eyes on you. Your own lips parted in a soft breath, and you caught him glance down at them.

He swallowed hard. “Fine.” This time, when he spoke the word, it was soft. Definitive. Expression slowly shifting back to the unreadable neutrality. He didn’t keep you guessing long, though. His hands reached out then, taking a final step to close the distance fully between you two, carefully lifting his palms to cradle either side of your face. You were frozen, eyes permanently glued to him, fingers twitching at your sides.

His hands were rough, calloused, but delicate in the way they held you. You felt an overwhelming warmth begin in your stomach and spread out over the rest of you while he studied you like this, searching your eyes for something.

Uncertainty, regret. Anything that would stop him from moving forward with what he was about to do. But there was none, just wide eyes and plush, parted lips that peered up at him with anticipation. And he just couldn’t help himself.

Slowly, one of his thumbs dragged across your bottom lip, watching as it bobbed in place before he was leaning forward, and you were washed in the scent of him. His nose nudged yours, eyes falling half shut, but yours were still gawking, waiting. The anticipation almost too much to bare that your hands abandoned your sides, coming up to grip him at the elbows. It must have been all he needed, as the next moment was consumed by the feeling of his lips molding against yours.

For the second time that day, Joel Miller discovered a way to shut you up.

He was hesitant at first; barely there, the coarse hair that coated his upper lip tickling your skin. Hardly grazing the supple petals against you. Instinctively, your fingers dug into the bend of his arms when he applied pressure, fully allowing the weight of himself to kiss you. Your eyes finally fell shut, the loss of sense permitting you to be fully encapsulated by him.

Him. Joel. His strong hands that held you, the familiar scent of him, wood and earth mixed with something sweet, his broad body that pressed into yours, claiming the moment for just the two of you. You’re not sure how it happened, between a breath, a brief moment for you two to recollect yourselves, before you dove back in head first. His hands abandoned your face, finding their way to wrap around your waist, bringing you to your toes and flushed against his chest. Your own reacted on instinct and weaved around his neck, and your fingers found refuge in his silver dusted curls.

Nerves were nonexistent. You just felt him, shocked by how easily it was to bend into his will. How much time you had spent over analyzing this moment for it to be reduced to such simplicity. Whether that was because it really was this simple, or because Joel made it so, you didn’t know.

The tip of his tongue just barely grazed your bottom lip, but never pushed for access. The contact alone ignited you, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that lodged in the back of your throat, a flutter traveling below your stomach. Joel’s hands squeezed your hips in response to the sound, and just as quickly as it started, it ended.

He compelled himself to let go, pulling you away from him, the space between you uncomfortably vast. You didn’t even have the chance to think before he reached up for your hands around his neck and gradually pulled them away, too. He stepped back from you, leaving you in a concrete daze of exasperation, newfound lust, and worst of all, a residue of heartbreak from how short the moment was cut.

“We oughta get goin’,” he grumbled, already turning to retrieve his backpack and put the fire out.

You didn’t move a muscle, frozen in the spot where Joel Miller kissed you. Where he changed everything you ever felt inside in an instant. You could see his skin still painted in pink, cheeks flushed, and lips glistening. The emotional whiplash his sudden change incited made you feel like you wanted to disappear, a lump forming in your throat. One you refused to give in to, swallowing it down as you slowly willed yourself to breathe again.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, okay.” And then, you were grabbing your own pack, silently helping him tear down the barricade you had built, and mounting the horses.

The entire rest of the patrol was silent. A rarity. And while words were never spoke aloud, there was an unspoken energy in the air that wailed for attention. You would acknowledge it, if only in your mind for the time being. You would spend the rest of the ride thinking about Joel’s lips, the alluring look in his eyes right before he kissed you. You would recount the tender nature of his touch, and how it gifted your skin with such delicacy. You would think of his breath, the way it quickened and hitched, desperate in between each touch of your lips. You would think about him.

And as soon as you got back into Jackson, you would be finding any and every excuse to cancel your date.

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Text

weakness (joel miller x female reader)

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s takes an unexpected turn for you and Joel when some feelings start coming to the surface.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags 🏷️ Bill and Frank! Not really a warning, I am just obsessed. Set a few years before series timeline, salt and pepper daddy Joel but not all out quite yet. Implied age gap (reader in her mid to late twenties, Joel is in his earlyish fifties). Soft!Joel, but not too soft. Dash of angst, a bit of fluff, and lots of Frank because he is a sweetheart.

word count: 5.3k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolded lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moved his hands back up to your hair, which was out of its usual braid and towel dried after a very much needed wash. The sweet scent of the vanilla shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingered deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing change from what your hair normally smelled like: grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the QZ. After combing out all of the stubborn tangles that he could find, Frank then picked up a boar hairbrush and he carefully began to run it through your locks. He started from the roots of your hair and brought the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sighed softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he had you perched on before giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” You mumbled. You brought your knees up against your chest and let out another small sigh. You could picture the small, satisfied smile on Frank’s face as he continued brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” You questioned him just a minute later, as if he hadn’t already explained it to you a dozen times; he wanted to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank stated as a matter of factly. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it's something of a special occasion today. It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You couldn’t help the way the corners of your mouth turned upwards into a small smile. One might think that was kind of silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you had to admit it, you admired the way Frank managed to find genuine happiness in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looked like. He had such a beautiful soul, something very, very people in this new world possessed.

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observed a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. He took two handfuls of your hair from the front, twisting them gently and bringing them around to the back of your head. Frank secured them with a clear elastic band and then ran his fingers through your locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascaded perfectly around your shoulders in long, natural waves. He walked around your chair to face you, fussing until he made sure that every stand was neatly in place. “You should wear your hair down more often. It suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the QZ require anyone who has long hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You pushed your legs out away from your chest and planted your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my usual, greasy old clothes.”

“Exactly. So why not just zip it and enjoy all of this while it lasts?” He suggested with a tiny grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He took your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, and you reluctantly did as you were told. Frank led you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open them.”

Your eyes fluttered open and your mouth parted slightly in surprise.

“What the fuck,” You murmured under your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looked absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of rosy blush on your cheekbones and the thin coat of decades old mascara (that could not be healthy to put near your eyes, could it?) that he’d applied to your lashes; the tube had been bone dry, but Frank used a bit of water to bring it back to life.

Then there was the dress, oh god, the fucking dress he’d forced you into. His favorite part and your least favorite.

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it got too chilly later.

“You look perfect,” he gushed.

You looked different. But that wasn’t exactly what shocked you. More than anything, you were taken aback by how normal you looked.

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, to wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in the QZ. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You didn’t think that you could ever look like this, not in this fucking lifetime.

Frank must have sensed how you were feeling. Still standing behind you, he placed his two hands on your shoulders and leaned his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes met your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve that much.”

Your lips parted slightly and you tried to speak, but words fell short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamped your mouth shut and gave him the tiniest little nod.

Frank smiled. “Good. Come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands dropped from your shoulders and he ushered you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gave you a wink. “I’m eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” You sputtered out, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What was he going to say when he saw you like this?

What would he think?

Probably that you looked utterly fucking ridiculous.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorted. “Yes, Joel.”

You glared at his back. This wasn’t the first time Frank had teased you about Joel, and despite the countless times that you assured him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insisted on believing otherwise. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he led you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” You said. Normally, you weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you weren’t finding his antics amusing in the slightest; not while you were wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You paused briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and added in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. That’s it.”

Frank stopped at the bottom of the staircase and turned to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, sleep in the same bed together, spend every waking moment from sunrise to sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you tried again. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap? Please.”

“Frank,” You nearly pleaded his name. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He threw his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoed in the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a lot of Bill,” he mused. He noticed the horrified expression that crossed your face and laughed again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way.”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” You had to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what’s his,” he further explained. He took a brief pause before questioning, “You trust him, right?”

You didn’t even miss a beat, answering, “With my life.”

He ticked an index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly! You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Frank rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel.”

For a moment, it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of you.

Could Frank actually be right? Did you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel didn’t really give a shit about anything, except for surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day. And even then, he didn’t speak of his younger brother too kindly.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmered, speaking a truth he’d been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” You confessed, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You crossed your arms over your chest and let out a long sigh. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bit his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, darling. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows came together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He said it so simply, and yet there went the rest of your air leaving your lungs.

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarked, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” You countered, hoping your voice didn’t sound as shaky to him as it did to you.

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He spoke gently, but with such seriousness that made your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you spoke again, your voice was strained, thick with emotion you were trying desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the romance novels.” Before he could say another word to you about it, you placed a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he took the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course.” Frank took your hand. He opened the front door and led you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he saw you two approaching, Bill threw his hands up. “It’s about damn time!” He grouched loudly. “Jesus, Frank. I’m starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tossed his partner a sweet smile as he released your hand. “Look, I found myself something pretty!”

You blushed. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about you. “Frank, please.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrowed his eyebrows and he glanced over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widened just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown hair might have even had a comb run through it, but it was difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beamed proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel didn’t respond. His eyes remained glued on you, following as you walked around the table and took your usual spot beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” You muttered, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticked by. You silently urged yourself to get a grip as you reached for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and draped it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up smelled heavenly—Frank knew it was your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu.

Joel still hadn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompted as he picked up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glared daggers at him from across the table and hissed, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel set down his glass of wine and turned slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he spoke, his voice was low, but clear as day as he looked at you, “She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest. Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he added, giving a subtle nod of his head. He let his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He turned back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again. He chugged what was left of it and then reached for the bottle, pouring himself another.

Bill cleared his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant. Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies.

As you tucked into your meal of rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grim caked onto your skin and in your hair. Surely he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his work partner.

About an hour later, once everyone had finished eating, you offered to help Frank clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settled for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shooed you away before you could even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he said, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hand. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggested. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like, go check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” You joked lamely, although it earned you a sincere laugh from your friend. You padded out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that was packed tightly with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months. You started searching among the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you picked it up, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you started thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing it was a play—you’d never read a play before. Still not convinced if it was one you would like to take home with you, you flipped back to the first page and started reading with a curious little, “Hmm.”

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he cleared his throat, and asked, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirled around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” You breathed out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate returned to normal. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he stated, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escaped you, almost nervously, as he slowly started walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floors. He took the book from your hands, giving a low hum as he read the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” You tossed him a teeny, lopsided smile as you teased, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacked your arm with the worn paperback. “Yes, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flipped it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He handed it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real dream,” You deadpanned. You glanced down, running your index finger down the cover. You were trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes were glazing over you from head to toe.

“It’s kinda nice,” he said quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the book. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He paused, then added, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even better, though.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. More than his words, it was the genuine tone in which he said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You forced a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his eyes, you turned around and walked over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shoved the book inside. When you heard Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffened slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel remarked. He seemed to hesitate, but then continued, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay?”

“You kidding?” You scoffed in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that.”

Joel’s hands went to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turned around and were caught a little off guard by how close he was standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raised an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”

Joel quickly shook his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that…” He stopped and lowered his voice just in case Bill or Frank happened to be nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugged his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content…” He trailed off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence. You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know with Frank’s help, we could talk Bill into it.”

The second you realized Joel was being serious, your smile faded a little. “What? But what about you?”

“Frank’s good, but he’s not a damn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admitted, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, You thought to yourself.

“I know that much,” You replied with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That’s no fuckin’ life—”

You held up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly softened. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen. The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy, not without you.”

Joel tilted his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body could even make the connection, you found yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You looked up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel’s exhaled a breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” You declared, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were finding the balls to confess all of this to him.

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lifted your hand to his face. At first, there was hesitation on your part, but you willed yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch was gentle, Joel couldn’t help but wince. Not because he didn’t want it, but because it had been so damn long since anyone had ever touched him like that. Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. He closed his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allowed himself to relax his tense muscles and sink into your touch.

Joel let himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gave a subtle tremble when you softly started to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully teased him about now that it was beginning to gray just like his hair, felt rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” You murmured, and he forced his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” You assured him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel managed to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that.”

You carefully moved your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“Because.” His voice was hoarse. “Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” You repeated, almost laughing. “Of all the things…”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier came to mind.

You’re his weakness. He knows how dangerous having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this ...

Joel’s dark eyes flickered to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and pulled it up back into place, his rough fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmured under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he started to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish, but I’m glad you said it. Because no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lifted yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with filled your senses and you yearned to have more of him, you nearly ached to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knew to take over from here. One of his arms found its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reached up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swiped lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly granted him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remained gentle.

The way that he kissed you, the way he held your body against his, the way his calloused hand delicately cradled the side of your face…

“Joel,” You nearly whimpered his name when he broke away. His face remained just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon...”

“I know.” You nodded. You could sense that Joel, much like yourself, was at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly didn’t, but the realization that you two had just crossed a line you could never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifted his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forced himself to release you from his arms and stepped back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nodded again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You paused, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened...”

He silently shook his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss was short and quick, and when he pulled away, he said nothing. He turned on the heel of his boot and disappeared, heading out to meet Bill in the basement.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your face flushed a deep shade of red when you saw Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a satisfied, smug expression on his face.

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you could detect the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turned away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. But he was yours too.

11K notes · View notes

writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Text

CARDIGAN

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x F!Reader

Insp.: Cardigan by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: Joel promised you he would go on a date after patrol one late November evening. However, when you show up to the bar, he’s not there. Where could have gone? Did something happen to him?

Warnings: established relationship, lack of communication, overworked Joel, description of a panic, attack, tears, fluff- like tooth rotting fluff, making out- Joel being emotionally stupid. Joel is scared of the dark because I said so.

Carmel colored leaves danced through the late autumn air, the sun kissing the horizon as it set, as you made your way down the main street of Jackson, gentle chilliness nipping at your face. It was peaceful in Jackson, it was safe. When you had stumbled across this place, it was terrifying. Having spent so many years running, finally being able to take a breath and relax was easier said than done. However, as you adjusted to the paradise that was Jackson, Joel Miller came barreling into your quite little life. His broad…everything became something of a safety net. His soothing air of gunpowder, woodsmoke, and pine. Joel was always there.

Walking through the door of the bar, The Tipsy Bison, your smile grew. The atmosphere was always so beautifully calming, an extension of you. As you made your way to the bar, several familiar faces waved and bid hello. Tommy and Maria were there on a date as well, your heart warming as you saw how far along Maria was in her pregnancy. You had given up on the idea of falling in love, and having a family years before the outbreak happened. However, now that you had Joel, you felt a small yearning for a child. To give yourself that sense of normalcy.

Looking around the room, you expected Joel to be leaning against the bar, cradling a whiskey, or sitting in a booth with Ellie. However, you were very quick to notice that Joel wasn’t even there. Tommy was very quick to notice the pure confusion painted on your face. Giving Maria a quick kiss on the cheek, he got up and walked over to you. His hand gently landing on your shoulder, giving a light squeeze.

“Howdy, trouble. Everything alright? Reckon you’re looking for my lug of a brother?”

He asked, a kind smile etched on his lips. Tommy had been the first person you met after he discovered you hiding away in a cabin, a short distance from the commune. Soon after meeting Tommy, he had introduced you to his wife, Maria. Maria has been an absolute angel to you since you showed up, despite others, being a bit uneasy about having someone new. Maria had put you in the house next door to Joel’s with the logic that giving a neighbor to the grump would cause him to open up a little bit.

“Hey there Tommy. Yeah, you seen him.? He promised me we would go on a date after patrol.. I barely get to see him anymore. He’s constantly on patrol or checking up on Ellie… Tommy he is so tired.”

You sighed, very clearly disappointed when Tommy said he had no idea where Joel was. It was deeply unlike your boyfriend to completely stand you up. Sure he wasn’t the best at communication when it came to his feelings but you had that man wrapped around your finger. Joel was loyal through and through. However, something about this situation made you deeply uneasy. A nauseating pit forming in your stomach as your mind ran through every single possible thing he could be doing. What if he was with another woman? As you began to spiral into a cave of terrified thoughts, Tommy’s voice cut through the loudness in your mind.

“I’m sorry, sugar. I reckon he forgot. He ain’t the type to cheat. So how about you go look for him, and I’ll take him off patrols for the next month Damn fool’s never been able to give himself time off.”

Tommy huffed, speaking nothing but truth about his big brother. That was the first thing you had ever learned about Joel Miller. He was a worker. Always had been. From patrols, to little things around the house, Joel had taken it upon himself to help you with absolutely everything. Even things as simple as carrying the laundry upstairs or heaven help if you complain about something being too heavy. He was always there. However, if Joel had any flaws it all, it was his terrible fear of communication. He never wanted you to worry about him. He always wanted a smile on your face. It broke your heart when he wouldn’t let you do the same for him.

After bidding farewell to Tommy and Maria, you made your way back out into the crisp autumn evening. You could see small clouds of water vapor puff off of your lips as you breathed. It was so quiet that night, as the moon barely peeked out from over the horizon. As your boots crunched along the street, you found your mind drifting to memories of Joel. Your first date. Where you first met. Your home. That’s what Joel Miller had become for you. Home. However, as you became lost in thought while walking, clouds quickly covered the evening sky. Raindrops gently beginning to fall. Flipping your hood up, you huffed as you began to walk faster. The rain began to make you wonder if Joel got stuck out there. Sure he was perfectly strong and capable but something about the love of your life being stranded in the woods..terrified you. Before you knew it, your quick walking begin to turn into a run. Bolting down the street, a heavy sigh of relief escaping your lips when you came up on Joel’s doorstep.

Making your way up the creaking wooden steps to his porch, you quickly became aware of the fact that the door was ajar, and all of the lights were off. You had always known Joel to make sure to lock the door, not to mention his deep hatred of the dark. Slowly and quietly, you pressed your palm up against the door and pushed, filling the empty living room with a loud creak. Looking around, quickly noticed that his rifle was leaning against the couch. He would never do that. He always kept his rifle in the room with him. Your breathing became shaky as you stepped further into the house. You knew better than to call out his name just in case someone was in there, waiting. Watching. Centering your mind, you creeped into the kitchen. Nobody. Not a single fucking light on. Your confusion and fear began to grow as you silently began to make your way up the stairs, a hand resting on the handle of the hand gun tucked away in the waist line of your jeans. As you made your way up the stairs, your gaze fell on a new picture. A new photograph that wasn’t there the last time you visit your boyfriends house. It was you and Joel sitting on the dock at the lake, feet dipped in the crisp blue water. Your head rested on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist. However, you quickly tore your attention from the picture and creeped up the rest of the stairs.

However, as you turned down the hallway in the direction of Joel’s bedroom, it hit your eyes. The bathroom light breaking through the darkness of the hallway. Your brow knit together in confusion as you creep towards the door. As you gently opened the mahogany door further, you noticed a small orange bottle sitting on the countertop. A pill bottle. One that used to be filled with the sleeping pills that the doctor in Jackson prescribed Joel to help him with issues he refused to open up to you about. Your mind quickly snapped to the worst possible situation as you through the door to the bathroom open and ran down the hallway to his room, tears filling your eyes as you prayed that he would be perfectly fine.

Just as you thought, the bedroom door was shut. Seemingly dark as you couldn’t see any light coming from under it. However, you could hear the sound of crying. A deep, warm timbre echoing beneath the sound of sobbing. Joel. Worry pulsed through your body as you slowly opened the door, any anger about the date completely subsiding when you saw him curled up by the bed, oblivious to you entering the room. Your heart broke at the sight as you set your knife and coat down on the bed, what could’ve done this to Joel? In that moment the warrior you knew wasn’t there. Vulnerability radiating off of the man you fell so deeply in love with.

“Honey..?”

You gently spoke, feeling your heart shatter when you saw how he looked at you. His beautiful brown eyes, wide with fear as you stepped closer. Almost as if you didn’t recognize you. However, as you gently put your hand on his shoulder, he seemed to come back to.

“D-darlin’? What are you doing here? Our- our date ain’t another hour…”

He spoke, his usually strong and commanding voice, now reduced to something almost pathetic. Terrified. However, when you looked at him, he glanced out the window behind you. Dark. Obviously long past when he promised you he would be there. When he noticed his mistake, Joel began to ramble about how sorry he was. However, even through all of the apology, he was never clear on what exactly had happened. Sitting down next to him, you put yourself in his strong arms. You knew that whenever he was afraid, holding you always made him feel better. It gave him someone to protect. Someone to look after. Although you never quite knew why he desperately needed to protect you, you new it called him down. Nuzzling your face into his neck, you took him in. It was all Joel.

“Joel. I’m not angry with you. Dates can be changed…what happened out there?”

You questioned, feeling his arms tighten around you. Keeping your voice level and soothing, wanting to give him nothing but comfort. Keeping yourself in his lap, you pulled back and gently rested your palms against both sides of his face. It was then that you got a good look at him. He looked tired all the time, sure, however, the bags in his eyes seemed extremely prominent. Several new cuts and bruises adorning his beautiful face. He quickly noticed how concerned you were, his strong hands gently squeezing your hips.

“I was on patrol this morning. Came across a group of infected…”

Joel spoke, pausing before taking a deep breath. It was quite confusing to see him struggle about talking about infected. You quickly realized that something had to have happened. He had to have seen something to get him this shaken up.

“They were… they were devouring a woman…she looked like you…”

He choked out, his arms tightly wrapping around you, and pulling you against his chest. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart against your cheek as he embraced you. So this is why he was so afraid.. he was afraid of losing you. Taking a deep breath, you gently set up and wiped his tears away. This is the Joel you knew. Beautiful. Vulnerable. Trusting.

“Honey… I promise you I ain’t going anywhere. There is nothing on this planet that could take me away from you.. I have you to protect me..”

You whispered, your delicate palm, gently caressing his cheek as he looked up at you. His deep eyes sparkling with love and a hint of fear. If there was one thing Joel Miller was terrified of, it was losing his loved ones. Losing you. He had already fought like hell to get to where he was, to save Ellie, to save you. He couldn’t lose it. If he ever were to lose you, he would surely lose himself. You were the light that he heard the fireflies speak of. You were the cure to the infectious depression that had weaved it’s way into his life. You were his life and hearing you speak of how he protected you, caused him to break down even further.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you into a deep, longing kiss. He was kissing you is if he hadn’t seen you in forever. As if he had lost you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gently weaved your hand into his hair. Grounding him. As your lips danced with his, you felt your Joel come back. Having Joel hold you like this felt as if he had wrapped the most comfortable cardigan around your shoulders. He made you feel as if you were reborn. At one point you were an old cardigan under someone’s bed, then, when he came into your life he put you on and you became his favorite. Pulling away, Joel’s forehead rested against yours, tears making his eyes sparkle in the moonlit room.

“Tommy said he’s gonna take you off patrol for a month…”

You whispered, scared that Joel was going to hate that idea. However, as you spoke, you felt him relax underneath of you. As if all of the stress in the world have been lifted off of his shoulders. He was finally, truly relaxed. Finally, the poor exhausted man had time. Time to spend with the love of his life and Ellie, the girl he considered his daughter.

“Promise me you’ll go to bed with me at night… I’ve missed you..”

Your soft voice spoke, soothing him even more. In all honesty, you had never seen him so relaxed and himself. Only with you.

“I promise sugar..I love you so much.”

He spoke, pressing his lips to yours, relishing in your sweet taste.

“I love you too, Miller.”

———————-

A/N: I really hope y’all enjoyed this! It took me a while :)

60 notes · View notes

writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Text

Bubbles | Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You take a bath with Joel Miller.

Warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Established relationship. Foul language. Sexual content. Dirty talk. Pet names. Soft, domestic Joel. Cockwarming. Mutual masturbation. No mention of age, race, or body type.

Word count: 1.9k

a/n: listen, i’m not saying this is in the soft&sweet universe, but i’m also not not saying it.

my kofi linked here! if you’re interested in supporting my work further. :)

He was always so warm.

At first, you couldn’t stand it. When you started spending nights over in his home, contentedly falling asleep in his arms, only to wake up hours later sweating through your pajamas — you couldn’t believe the grizzly bear of a man you had. You would shove him to the other side of the mattress, to which he would usually respond with an unconscious grunt or heavy sigh, and claim the space needed to cool yourself down.

Then, came the dead of winter. Your feet were always too cold and his sturdy legs were always so warm. You’d shove your toes underneath his thigh on the couch while you sat together.

“Get those damn icicles outta here,” he would yap at you, and you would roll your eyes and laugh, knowing he wouldn’t move your legs. He loved it when you gravitated towards him, he was just too stubborn to admit it.

But the best time to feel Joel Miller’s warmth was when you convinced him to take a bath.

Sat between his legs with your back pressed up against his firm chest, he wrapped his arms around your middle, and you laid your head into the curve between his neck and shoulder. Your eyes were closed, a calm silence fallen over the room. Foamy water reached just below your breasts, and you were soothed by the pattern of his hands that rubbed gently over them every few moments. He caressed your stomach, your thighs, loving the silken feel of your skin in the water. He had his nose pressed to the back of your head, breathing in the sweet scent of your damp hair. His thighs cradled either side of you, legs bent, not quite perfectly fitting inside the tub.

Joel didn’t mind. He would would sit there till his skin pruned and his blood boiled from the outrageous temperature you insisted on keeping the water if it meant he got to have you this close.

Normally, you would be satisfied to just exist like this. But today, the incessant tingle between your legs was craving something else warm. And hard. And thick. And already pressed against your lower back behind you.

In your relaxed state, you not so nonchalantly shuffled your bottom in his lap, inhaling a heavy breath at the feel of his cock nestling up against your lower lips. Joel stirred only the slightest, and not even a moment later, you felt the familiar tickle of his thick beard below your ear.

“Need somethin’ from me, darlin’?” he murmured, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

A soft grin dangled on your lips, eyes still shut. “Mm, no. Just getting comfortable,” you feigned innocence, another swivel of your hips catching the tip of his cock between your folds, eliciting a grunt from deep within Joel’s chest.

This time, when his hands grazed over your breasts, he cupped them tenderly in his palms, padding his thumbs over your already taut nipples. You couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped you, something so undeniably intoxicating about the delicate, yet filthy way Joel Miller touched you. You arched up slightly into his hold, and a low chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“Thought’ya wanted a relaxin’ and undisturbed evening?” he taunted, mimicking the exact words you had given him before you two settled down for the night.

You opened your eyes only to roll them, tilting your head back to catch his profile. His cheeks were flushed from the heat of the water, eyes on you and a snark little grin hanging on his lips.

“I do. Who says I’m not relaxed?” You couldn’t think of a more soothing scenario than the one you were in right now.

He hummed, thumbs taking another pass over your nipples, this time giving them delicate pinch. You sucked in through your teeth, fingers digging into his thighs below the water.

“Just seem a lil antsy s’all.” He knew what he was doing. He knew you knew what he was doing, but Joel didn’t care. He was the kind of man who loved to work you up until you simply could not take it anymore. He liked to feel wanted.

And fuck, did you want him.

Now, his hips were meeting you in return with small, upwards rocks, making it significantly harder to hold your ground. “Just–just trying to get comfy,” you deemed, though your voice failed you in the way it faltered, too enamored by feel of his sturdy cock rubbing over your folds. The water made the motion much easier, smoother, every maneuver of him below you providing the delicious friction.

His lips were pressed against your ear. “Here,” he whispered, the sudden drop in his tone sending a tingle between your thighs. “Let me help you.”

Then, his large hands were disappearing under the water, palms coming to cradle your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as he lifted you the slightest bit. The tip of him slipped between your folds, and you dug your nails deeper into his thighs. And as he descended you back against his chest, he slowly nestled himself up inside of you, reaching the kind of depth only Joel could find.

The familiar stretch made you sigh contentedly, a sense of relief in your breath. “Joel,” you hummed softly, hands finding his that held your hips steady below the water, lacing your fingers atop of his.

“That better, darlin’?” he asked, lifting a hand to swipe your hair over to one shoulder, exposing the hollow of your neck to his feathery kisses.

You gave him a slow nod and soft mmhm before allowing yourself to melt back into his embrace. You weren’t sure how long you sat like this, plugged up with his cock and dazed off the delicacy of his hands. But soon enough, it became difficult to stay still. The unmoving thickness not enough to quench the painful ache between your legs. You think Joel must’ve been growing eager too, for anytime you shifted or arched any which direction, he would grunt low, feeling the mass of him swell and throb within your walls.

The harder he grew, the deeper he reached, and eventually, you felt the tip of him find a spot inside of you that left you gasping for air, the now lukewarm water sloshing around you as you bucked your hips forward.

"Joel." When you said his name again, it came as a frantic whine off your lips. If you weren't submerged below the water, you were certain you would be dripping down his cock, suddenly oversensitive to the steely feeling of him inside of you. Your untouched clit throbbed for attention; the abundance, the closeness, the sheer being of him within and around you too much to bare.

"I've got ya," he murmured, and you noted the way his own voice strained with desire. His hands caressed over your sides until he found the crux of your knees. "Open 'em up, baby."

Then, he was urging your legs over each respective side of the tub, never abandoning himself from inside of you, but merely slipping further into the water to accommodate your adjustment.

"But Joel, the water–" you gasped, but it was too late. He had already lifted them over the edges, and you were more than willing to comply to his ministrations, sending gulps of sudsy bath water onto the tiles.

Spread open for him, cock still nestled perfectly inside of you, Joel stifled out a low chuckle before his hands were back on you. One gingerly coming back to fiddle with you pebbled nipples while the other descended between your open legs, finding your point of contact. You mewled in delight the moment his fingers found your clit, calloused pads stroking carefully over the sensitive bud. Just the slightest bit, feather light and leaving you to anticipate more. You were already clenching around him, fluttering walls inviting him to overtake every inch of your cunt.

"Don't give a damn about the water, I'll mop it up later," he gritted, giving your left nipple a particularly terse pinch, sending your back arching and his cock pulsing to the hilt, more water spilling over the sides of the tub.

"Fuck," he breathed, and you were moaning at the familiar swell of him inside of you. Neither of you would last long, not after sitting like that, engulfed in the entirety of each other. "You're so fuckin' pretty," he praised, and then, his lips were back on your neck, this time sucking faint marks along your jugular. His fingers began to work in tight circles over your clit, a steady pace of even pressure that he knew would leave your toes curling.

He didn't indulge himself; he remained perfectly still inside of you, only the twitch or rock of your own hips providing any sort of internal friction. But the utter fullness of him coupled with his fingers stroking you, like a maestro on his fine instrument, plucked away at your sanity until you felt yourself wholly driven by lust.

The build up was intense, like always. Your eyes rolled back while he worked his digits over your clit, beginning to contract around him, coaxing him towards his own release. He emitted a low vibration in his chest then, a sound so primal in your heightened state that your toes really did curl off the edge of the tub.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you sung in a high whine, slicing your teeth into your bottom lip as you clenched feverishly around him. “Joel, I’m—I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” you chanted like a prayer, knowing how much he loved to hear it and fuck, you loved to say it. Loved to tell him how good he made you feel. Your orgasm tipped over you in a warm ripple, coating your entire body in tingles. His free arm wrapped dutifully around your torso, keeping you steady as your hips trembled and jerked around his cock, little pulses vibrating through your clit that was still being bathed in his careful attention.

You thought you could’ve come again from his sounds alone, heavy grunts and stifled groans that reverberated through his chest as his own hips began to sputter below you. He kept you sufficiently plugged with the whole of him while he twitched inside of you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to mask the heavenly little moan that slipped passed his lips when he spilled inside of you. Finishing himself off just by the feel of your cunt around him alone, tight and welcoming, the perfect fit.

Your body was on fire, no longer the doing of the water, but by the pleasant aftermath of Joel’s attention. Your once pristine bubble bath now a pool of your own sweat and cum. You would sit in it for hours to pass if he so pleased, nonetheless. Content to remain dirty if it meant having his hands on you.

You leaned your head back against his chest as you both began the search for your breath, letting your eyes flutter shut as his hands cascaded back over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, soothing over every inch of skin he could get them on. He softened inside of you, and yet, the prolonged connection already had you aching for more. You sighed pleasantly, an equally depraved and gleeful smile lingering on your lips.

“We should take baths more often,” you hummed, that blissful stupor between sleep and awake that arose after Joel took care of your pleasure wrapping you up like a warm, heavy blanket.

Joel chuckled shakily behind you. “I think I could be convinced,” he said, and you joined in on his laughter when his fingers found you below the water again, playfully tickling at your sides.

You weren’t sure either of you ever really got clean that night.

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

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Hi, I have no idea if there is already something similar. If you have time, would you write something? John meets a supposedly simple woman (Viggo Tarasov's daughter) while shopping, she loses a necklace. John brings her the necklace home.

Kind of like love at first sight. Maybe some fluff😅

lost and found love

john wick x mysterious woman lol au fluff

The bustling city streets were alive with the hum of activity as John walked through the crowd, his keen eyes scanning his surroundings with practiced precision. He had retired from his life as an assassin, seeking a sense of normalcy that had long eluded him. Today, he found himself wandering through a high-end boutique, his attention drawn to an elegant display of jewelry.

Amidst the glinting gems and delicate chains, his gaze inadvertently locked onto a woman who seemed out of place in the opulent surroundings. She was exquisitely beautiful, with an air of innocence that contradicted the sophistication of the boutique. Her chestnut hair cascaded in loose waves, framing a face that held a hint of vulnerability.

As if sensing his gaze, the woman turned and their eyes met. John felt an unexpected jolt of something he hadn't felt in years – a connection, a spark. He quickly averted his gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't used to feeling this way, not since the tragic loss of his beloved wife.

The woman was none other than Meena Tarasova, the daughter of Viggo Tarasov, a powerful figure from his past life. Meena had grown tired of the lavish lifestyle her father's connections provided, seeking solace in the anonymity of the city. She appreciated the simple things, like wandering through shops and buying her own clothes without an entourage.

While browsing the store, Meena realized with a sudden feeling of panic that her cherished necklace was no longer around her neck. Her heart sank as she retraced her steps, growing more anxious with each passing moment. It wasn't just a necklace; it held sentimental value that transcended material worth.

In her frenzied search, Meena collided with someone, almost falling over. She looked up, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw the familiar face – the man from the boutique, the one who had been watching her. "I'm so sorry," she stammered.

John's gaze softened as he looked into her eyes, and without a word, he bent down and picked up a delicate chain from the ground. It was her necklace, the missing piece. Meena's eyes widened in disbelief and gratitude as he handed it to her. "Thank you," she whispered.

Days turned into weeks, and their chance encounter became more profound. They found solace in each other's presence, a refuge from their complicated pasts. Once a backdrop of chaos and violence, the city transformed into a canvas for a different kind of story – one of healing and connection.

With every passing day, John and Meena's bond grew stronger. They discovered common interests, shared laughter, and built a foundation of trust that neither had thought possible. Love, like a fragile bud, began to bloom between them, its presence undeniable yet unspoken.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, John walked Meena back to her apartment. They stood on the threshold, their eyes locking once again. "Thank you for bringing back my necklace," Meena said softly, her gaze filled with a mixture of gratitude and something more.

John reached out, his fingers gently lifting her chin. Their lips met in a tentative kiss, a fusion of two souls who had found solace in each other's presence. In that moment, the weight of their pasts seemed to fade away, replaced by the promise of a new beginning.

my second request lolsies! please let me know if u like this guys :>

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Text

This is everything I wanted

I love this shit so much

Thank you for writing and sharing this

Not Alone (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

joel miller x fem!reader

when you find yourself completely alone, you might just have to look up to realize you aren't.

warnings: mentioned death of family members; injuries

author: sj

masterlist

part 2

---

You quite literally stumbled upon Jackson. You had been traveling with your younger brother and when he got bit it got ugly. You shot him but not before he some how broke your arm. You weren't bit but you sure did feel like your arm was falling off.

Even though it had been two days of travel since, you still hadn't quite processed the trauma. All you could focus on was that you now were unarmed (almost literally) without your gun that ran out of bullets, hadn't eaten since, and were in an extreme amount of pain.

You had just taken a stumble, head becoming dizzy from the lack of food that you had consumed when the Jackson patrol found you. You sobbed uncontrollably when you heard the horse hooves beating on the ground getting louder. You heard gun clicks.

"PLEASE!!!! I'm not infected!! I'm hurt!!" You looked up holding one arm up in the air. Your upper left arm felt like it was falling off and couldn't raise it.

"BOTH HANDS IN THE AIR!" A deep voice yelled.

"I can't. I think my arm is broken. I'm unarmed!! I have a gun but there's no bullets. You can take it if you don't believe me. I promise. I just need help." You pleaded. God you hoped these people were sane and didn't eat each other.

The next thing you knew, you were being helped onto a horse after being sniffed by a dog and led into town. You were instantly taken into a building and were seen by a doctor.

"Looks pretty broken to me. The lower part towards your wrist is definitely broken, but it looks like you muscles have been compensating for your wrist too much and thats why the pain is all the way up to your shoulder." You thanked the doctor and they wrapped your wrist and got you a make shift sling to rest your arm in.

The lady that escorted you to the doctor, Maria, led you out.

"We have a small house that is across the street from ours that isn't occupied yet. Dusty and untouched, but empty. I can bring over some clothes and lunch for you. I'll give you a small tour and then show you to your house.

And show you she did. This was amazing. You never realized how much you missed order until you were in it. And the stables and animals were amazing. The tour ended by knocking on a large house that was quite truthfully, gorgeous. She pointed across the street, "That's Tommy and I's house. Yours is next door to this one. I just want to introduce you to your neighbors real quick. This is Tommy's brother."

The door finally opened to reveal a young girl, probably an early teenager standing before you with a pony tail.

"Ellie. This is Y/n, your new neighbor. She just arrived today. I want to make sure she is well taken care of. Can you do that?" Maria asked, Ellie glancing to you. You smiled at her obvious trust of Maria. She then nodded.

"Yeah. Of course I fucking can. Whats with the sling?" She asked.

"I broke it." You replied with smile at the course language that casually slipped out of her mouth. You would've gotten reamed by your parents if you were her age.

"Where's Joel?" Maria asked Ellie. Instead of replying, Ellie instead screamed his name.

"What the fuck Ellie? I told you not to answer the door to strangers." A tall man with salt and pepper curls stomped down the stairs and came up behind Ellie. Ahh thats where the language came from.

"Maria isn't a stranger. And if I didn't answer the door, you'd never fucking hear any one knocking." Joel rolled his eyes, a quiet curse slipping from his lips under his breath. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes landed on you. You crinkled your eyes at Ellie, enjoying watching their interaction and how comfortable they seemed together. The bickering well coated in love and playfulness. You heart gave a little ache.

"Joel. This is Y/n."

"You just came in today didn't you?" He asked, remembering how you pleaded for help with tears streaming down your face. He swear he felt his heart crack a little with how much pain you seemed to be in and here you were smiling in front of him like you just won the lottery.

"Yeah. Nice to officially meet you. Both of you." You smiled, nodding at him and then nodding at Ellie. He watched your bright, but tired eyes glance between him and Ellie in front of you.

"I just wanted you to know, she'll be living next to you and wanted to make sure you'll keep an eye out for her." Maria looked at Joel with an extra piercing stare and he nodded. She cocked an eyebrow and he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. We'll keep an eye out." He agreed.

"Good. Let's go and get you settled. I'll grab you some food that should last you the day too." Maria walked you down the steps and he noticed the shaky way you grabbed for the railing and you gently went down the steps.

He knew you came in alone, but wondered if you were completely alone. He knew the feeling and didn't like that you probably did too.

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Note

Could I get a Joel miller x reader fic where the reader gets her period and her past partners always made her sleep on the couch bc they thought it was gross and Joel is just like wtf at someone treating his daeling like that?

Come Back to Bed, Please?

pairing: joel miller x AFAB!reader

genre: romantic fluff <3

summary: you get your period and freak out over what Joel’s reaction could be.

warning/contents: reader has a period, blood mentions(obv), Y/N is used, AFAB reader, mentions of past relationships, it gets a tad bit angsty.

additional notes: ty for the request!! Im actually AFAB(I identify as agender btw) so I can relate to this 😭

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Your stomach starts to hurt and you immediately realize what time of the month it is. You rush to the bathroom and grab your stash of pads underneath the cold sink.

Knock, knock.

You completely forgot about Joel..

“Uh..Y/N? You..you alright…?” Joel questions worryingly, thinking the worst that could possibly happen to you.

“I’m alright…I’m just on period!” You yell out nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t make a snarky remark or say you’re disgusting.

“Alright, just tell me if you need anything.” He says and you hear him walk away. Fear washes off of you, but confusion starts to settle in when he didn’t give you the reaction you thought we was going to give you. Cleaning yourself up, a cold darkness settles outside, indicating that you should start to go to rest.

“Took Ellie to sleep, she told me to tell you ‘goodnight’” Joel says chuckling softly and you smile.

“Well, I’m tired too. Think I’m gonna head to bed now.” You say as you pick up your pillow and a blanket from you and Joel’s shared bed.

“Woah woah woah! The hell are ya’ doing?”

“Picking up my stuff…?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m on my period, dummy.” You nonchalantly reply, and lay down on the couch. Joel looks at you with the most confused expression ever and realization hits you like a truck.

“That don’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.” His southern deep accent breaks the short silence between the two of you. Opening your mouth, your voice seemingly disappears from your throat, and now you’re the one confused.

“But that doesn’t…that doesn’t make you disgusted? Or something? Doesn’t that bother you?” You say, barely above a whisper.

“No…? Y/N…god dammit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose making you even more confused.

“Wha-“

“I’ve dealt with all sorts of blood before. I’ve seen clickers in front of me, and those shits are nasty. You really think blood like that is gonna bother me?”

Now that he says it, that really doesn’t make sense. His statement lingers in your head for a while before you say something.

“Well- I guess that’s just a reaction I get a lot. My past partners didn’t like the fact that I naturally bled, so they usually made me sleep on the couch.” You admit, looking down at the floor to avoid looking at Joel’s face. He stays silent longer than usual and you look up to see him being shocked.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggle.

“That’s fucking absurd? No one should treat you like that, ever. They’re lucky I don’t know who they are.” He says walking to you and pressing his forehead against yours, pinning you down on the couch. A warm, fuzzy feeling enters your heart and you let your left hand trail up to his cheek. Moonlight hits the floor, brightening the living room.

“It’s not that serious Joel.” You say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“It’s that serious to me, you’re…you’re human. It’s something that happens naturally, if they don’t like that then you should’ve left them.”

Your gaze at him starts to turn blurry as tears show up in your eyes, you kiss him and he unexpectedly picks you up bridal-style. You squeal out his name and he tells you to ‘shush up’. He gently places you down on the bed.

“Get yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.” The covers of the bed get on top of you and Joel leaves the room.

A few minutes passed, where is this man? you thought, and he walks in the moment you stop thinking.

“U-Uh..H-Here..” you grab a mug out of his hands and embrace the warmth of it.

“What is it?”

“Tea…it’s from a uh..tip that Tess told me that would help with cramps..” Red tints his face, but luckily from the darkness it’s not visible.

“Aww Joel, you didn’t have to do that!” You say as he steps in bed, you take a few sips from the tea and place it down on the table next to the bed. Joel slips more under the bed and fully gets comfortable, and you position to be the big spoon. You arm wraps around his back and you feel Joel kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, don’t let anybody tell you different.”

“Joel…

I love you too.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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writingwithadinosaur · 8 months

Text

Old soul

Summary: You're never quite sure of your place in Joel's life. Everyone else seems to know exactly what it is.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~8.3k

Warnings: age gap (reader is mid-twenties), angst then fluff, slow-ish burn, smut-ish situations (m receiving oral), some insecurity, protective!Joel, emotionally distant reader and Joel until they aren't anymore oops, mentions of past death, canon typical violence, symptoms of dissociation and ptsd, mentions of depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation, implied (nothing explicit or directly stated) past sexual assault

A/N: I'm really, really proud of this one, I hope y'all like it. Some of it is, ah, as close as I've ever come to putting something wholly me into a fic. Please be sure to read the content warnings! Thank you for reading! As always, I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

“Jesus,” your mother had once said. “Your soul is old. It’s like I’m raising a thirty year old.”

That is your oldest memory, the only one from before the outbreak.

You never minded the sentiment, not sure what it meant anyway. You were a quiet child, a darkness mucked your soul from the inside out, a hurt you never seemed able to find an origin to. The world was always too small, too large. And you didn’t fit into any of it.

You’re the kind of person better left in stories. Antisocial, mature, not fun. Big, night laden eyes that watched from behind the pages of a book, headphones slotted over unhearing ears.

“You’ll never have any friends your own age,” your mother used to say, like there were friends to make at all, like life wasn’t unbearable and too large and loud.

Though that heavy hurt landed in the back of your throat sometimes, a loneliness without origin, you were never a cruel person. The violence of the QZ you grew up in troubled you, but the dark spots in your memory trouble you more than anything, the things you can’t remember. The blank spots of things better maybe forgotten. Memories you can’t remember consume you, and no one ever cared enough to try to help you close them.

Your father leaving, the death of your mother, living with an aunt that hated you, that despised your mother for dying, those are memories so bright you can’t look away.

You were a child, no matter how mature, no matter what you saw with your vigilant, watchful eyes.

Kansas City was no place for anything you were, but then it all fell apart. It fell apart so suddenly, you’re sure you must have dreamed up the nightmare landscape in the first place.

You follow Henry and Sam, because you’ve known Henry a long time, and you’re nothing if not loyal.

When Henry and Sam die, you follow Joel and Ellie, taking their offer to go west. You only half trust them, and they only half trust you, but you aren’t sure what else to do. There’s no one left, nothing left.

You’d always hated Kansas City, and though things get hard, it's better than there. The only thing you miss is your rings, your father’s necklace, that you hadn’t had time to grab when you followed Henry. The last connection to your parents, broken.

It’s prettier at least, outside the city, even if food is in short supply and Joel watches you like he expects you to shiv him at any moment.

But time forges trust, and eventually he begins to loosen, to trust that you wouldn’t kill him in his sleep, that you were good for a rotation of watches through the night, that you could hunt and knew how to trap fish when the opportunity arose. He begins to trust that you would be good in a fight.

Ellie sheds her wariness first. She bombards you with questions, wears you down with a strange sweetness you haven’t known in a very long time. When it's cold, she presses herself into your side and closes her eyes, strangely affectionate.

You teach Ellie how to set snares one day, months on from the formation of your little group, and when you glance up, he’s staring at you.

The smile you hadn’t realized had graced your face, fades, slides off your skin. Ellie’s hands are cold when they touch yours, asking about the particular way you’d tied one of the knots in the wire Joel had found for you.

Joel doesn’t exactly soften to you, but he eases into a trust.

He ties you up in knots, braids something better left unsaid into the core of you. Even grumpy and stoic, there’s something behind the way he patiently listens to Ellie tell jokes from the little book in her backpack.

Something in the way he finds her new boots and extra layers to pad beneath her jacket, but never wears even a hat himself and duct tapes his boots. He gives you and Ellie first rations of whatever food you find or hunt or trap. He hands you a scarf with elastic in the band that can be drawn up around your nose and mouth without comment.

Joel provides, listens.

You do your best not to step on his toes, still not sure of your place with them.

And Ellie does her very best to step everywhere she can.

With him. With you.

She forces you into conversation with each other, and you don’t exactly mind. He gradually warms to you, in slow increments that test your own walls. You always ignore him when you feel the heavy cut of his gaze on you, watching you so carefully.

You’ve never been around someone like Joel, who exudes the brutality you’re used to, but in a way that doesn’t make you wary, at least not when you get used to him. There’s a gentleness under his skin that sometimes bubbles to the surface, in small ways.

Once, you run into a couple of infected in a rundown warehouse you’re going through for supplies. Joel takes down one, then another, but the rest zero in on you. You’re covered in something sticky when you rip your knife out of the skull of the last one you take down.

You swipe the blade on your jeans, proud of yourself, because they can finally see first hand you can pull your weight, that you’re capable on your own. But you don’t even have time to flick the knife closed because Joel is there, his hands gripping your forearms in tight fists, his voice in your ear, demanding to know if you’ve been bitten.

He reprimands you, says you cut it too close. You can’t bear to look at him because no one has ever been that concerned about you, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to care in that way.

Check you over for bites, sure, but only to know if he had to put you down if one got you.

He holds onto you, iron grip bruising your skin, for just a few moments too long.

That’s the day you begin to really worry, that you think things are getting too close, because he had not been reassured until he checked you over himself. And then, the stark, revealing, relief in his features as he corralled you and Ellie out of the building.

You don’t let yourself think about it too much, can’t entertain the possibility.

But, one cold night, several weeks on from then, when the stars are bare above you and the wind has died down, he asks you about Kansas City, about your life there.

It’s the first time he’s asked you directly something about yourself. Everything else he knows about you is by proxy of Ellie’s prying questions.

You don’t want to talk about it. The blood soaked violence of that place, but you tell him anyway. As distrustful as Joel is, you’re the same. You hadn’t slept at all your first few nights with them, curled on your side, the handle of a blade clutched in your fist.

You don’t tell him everything, just broad strokes.

“Wasn’t like that in Boston,” he says. “It was bad, but not like that.” Joel’s voice holds something hard, something regretful. You aren’t sure where to place it, that he sounds irritated that he hadn’t been able to protect you from something that he wasn’t even around for.

Ellie is sleeping near you. Her mouth is parted, hands folded beneath her face. Her breaths are slow and long, and when you brush your fingers over her forehead, she leans into your touch. “Bad is bad,” you say simply, not prepared to speak on it anymore.

You tell him, despite every trauma honed instinct telling you to shut up, about how the only thing you really miss is your jewelry. The rings always came in handy in a fight, the way a punch could hurt just that much more, dig scars and draw blood, how it had been good indirect protection. And, though you don’t say it, they had been the only pretty things you owned.

Instead of answering, Joel passes you a flask.

You take a tiny sip, and hand it back.

You won’t have more. Because Joel is looking at you, accessing you, with those dark eyes that saw everything and said nothing. Because he’s beginning to want to protect you, and you want to let him.

Because, despite it all, there’s a space growing inside your heart for him. Ellie is already lodged there, in a different way, with a different kind of love.

That’s easy.

But the feelings drawing delicate shapes over the curves of your veins that Joel inspires, well, that has never been easy. The kind of want that Joel inspires terrifies you. It brings out a kind of feral territorialism in you too, of your own heart and body, the kind that makes you want to snap your teeth at him and tell him to fuck off.

It’s the kind of thing that breaks and sears.

Still, the drop of amber from the flask warms you from the inside out. It makes you sleepy and weak, and you know you’re in too deep when that feeling doesn’t make you panic.

It makes you feel safe.

Joel only kisses you for the first time when he tries to leave you in Jackson, when he tries to leave you and Ellie in Jackson.

You both hear him when you weren’t meant to, talking to Tommy.

The community hall with its movie and people and happy buzz had grated on you and Ellie. Neither of you are sure how to sit still through something like that. Your neck had prickled with unease, your body tensed for a fight that was never coming.

You try to get Ellie to walk away from the door, to stop listening to Joel at his most vulnerable, but she won’t leave.

Tears blur your eyes. A terrible tearing in your heart, that already feels like separation.

And then Tommy asks about you.

Joel scoffs, the sound self deprecating. “I’m no good for her,” he says. “I was never good at that type a’ thing anyway. I can’t give her what she needs.” His voice is so soft. It’s a reverent, grieving soft.

“Are you-,”

“I don’t know, Tommy,” he answers, his voice pained. “She’s young. I never thought on how it looked ‘til we got here-,”

Before you can hear more, you turn away, you walk away, you leave Ellie there beside the door.

It never seemed to matter while you were traveling, your difference in age. It doesn’t matter. You aren’t young, not with the things that darted behind your eyes. You’re almost thirty for fuck’s sake.

You never thought about how it looked either. Joel is just Joel, that’s it.

Later, you hear his and Ellie’s raised voices, and you feel everything within you fracture along hairline faults. The quaking, shattering, shaking leaves your teeth gnashed together, your hands over your ribs, your voice stuck in your throat.

Never, you never should have followed them. It could only lead to caring too much, to this.

Joel has his own room but he arrives at your door. Because they hadn’t been sure, Tommy and Maria, of your relationship with each other. You hadn’t known if that was a good thing or bad, but now you’re glad for it.

You’re torn when you open the door, not sure if you want to hit him or kiss him. Not sure if you want to slam the door in his face. “You heard me,” he says. “It’s better this way.”

“You’re breaking us,” you reply, voice flat. “Whatever about me, Joel,” you continue viciously. “I don’t matter. I never have. But Ellie does and I won’t pretend I understand you leaving her behind.”

He stares at you, eyes dark and shadowed, shoulders tensing harder beneath his flannel. You’ve seen him in a rage. You’ve seen him violent and unforgiving. You’ve never seen the kind of despair currently lodged in his eyes.

“It’s for the best,” he says. “I can’t protect her. I can’t protect either of you.”

You step forward and stab a finger into his chest, “And who’s going to protect you? You can’t hear on one side. You’ve been falling asleep when it's your watch. I know you’ve been having panic attacks. You can’t fucking breathe. That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? Getting old and soft.”

He steps into your space, shoves you gently back and nudges the door closed with his foot. You don’t retreat, instead rooting your feet to the ground.

“You think I need you.” His voice is cruel now. “Some kid?”

You snort, “Please, Joel, let’s not pretend I’m that.”

“But you are,” he growls. “No matter what I tell myself, no matter what you do.”

A flash of fury burns through you. You never thought you’d miss being called an old soul. “I’ve seen more in my twenty-six years than you saw in all yours before the outbreak happened. Don’t pretend I’m some innocent idiot. About anything. I’ve got my head on my shoulders, my brain is fucking developed. I know what I’m doing.”

“And what is it that you’re doin’?” He snarls, taking another step forward.

You don’t back away, but your breath hitches in your lungs. “Maybe I am stupid. But it's for thinking you cared. Not anything else.” You plant your hands against his chest and shove. He doesn’t budge. “I’m not staying here though. You can fuck off wherever you want. Ellie can go with Tommy. But I’m not staying here.”

You finally step away. “No,” he says, voice softened, inexplicably hoarse. “No-,”

“If you aren’t staying with me,” you say. “With either of us, you’ve got no goddamned say, Joel. I can’t do it like they do here. I’m not cut out for watching movies surrounded by people that every instinct in me is telling me are going to jump me first chance they get.”

Joel doesn’t answer, like he can’t accept that you’re rejecting his sacrifice. And unlike Ellie, you aren’t a child. He can’t make you accept it whether you want to or not. He can’t make you stay within the walls of Jackson.

You shake your head. “Forget about me. Ellie deserves better, Joel. She deserves you. Now get out. I made my choice.”

He stares at you for a second longer before stepping close to you again, the scent of him clean, freshly showered and raw. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Joel?”

Instead of answering, he cups a hand against the back of your skull and crashes his mouth against yours. His teeth hook into your bottom lip, tugging you open. His tongue parts your lips, drags a moan from the pit of your stomach before you lurch back, breathing hard.

It burns you, that this is the first time.

When you tongue the inside of your lip, you taste blood.

He stares at you, dark eyes wild, hands still cupping your face. “You can’t put that on me.”

“You’re putting it on yourself,” you say. “You don’t have to give a fuck.”

“I wish I didn’t,” he presses you back into the wall. One hand cups your chin and jerks your head up. “I wish I didn’t feel a fuckin’ thing.”

“Lair,” you snap, baring your teeth at him. “Lie to yourself, not to me.”

He swallows, eyes darting over your face, the pits of his eyes devouring you whole. He brings your face closer to his, gaze lingering on your lips. The second press of his lips is softer, gentler. You find it hard not to melt, even if his fingers are making your jaw ache. “My mind’s made up.” Joel’s breath is warm when it fans over your chin. He’s panting a little, he sounds so desperate.

“So is mine.”

He releases you with a huff. “Goddamnit,” he mutters again, stepping away from you until he crashes down onto the bed, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. “D’ya know what it does to me?”

“What?” You ask, touching your fingers to your lips when you follow him to the bed. The flesh feels bruised, and you scrub harder. “Us?”

“You heard me,” he says. “Don’t act like you didn’t. You heard what I was sayin’ to Tommy.”

You hum and sit next to him. The bed dips beneath you.

It’s the first time you’ve truly been alone with Joel, bar Ellie across the hall. You look at him, watch the rise and fall of his chest. “I know,” you say, your voice gentle. “I understand. That doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. Especially when I’m the one getting left behind.”

“I ain’t-,” he grits his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping. His hands fall away from his face. “It’s not like I’m abandoning-,”

You cock an eyebrow at him, fingers twisting invisible rings. Joel’s eyes trail briefly to your hands and you force yourself to stop. “I get if you wanna dump me. I’m extra weight. You didn’t mean to pick me up in Kansas City. But doing that to that kid-,”

He sits up and braces his forearms on his knees. His jaw works for a moment, like he’s swallowing back words. “You aren’t extra-,” he stops himself, grinds the words to dust between his teeth. “I can’t do it.”

“Okay,” you agree, exhausted. “If you can’t, you can’t.”

You’re twenty-six and you’re so tired. There’s a hardened pit in your heart that says it would be better to go bury yourself under the snow banks outside and let sleep claim you forever.

“It’s not like I need you Joel,” you say quietly. “But I want to. I’m not saying age doesn’t matter. It does. But how much does it matter between us?” You pat his hip and stand. “Goodbye,” you don’t turn. “If I don’t see you in the morning.”

It’s supposed to be your room but you can’t really bring yourself to care. They were just bedrooms to you, not a house that mattered, and the other one is as good as the one you were currently in.

Maybe better, since it didn’t have Joel in it.

You only manage to take a step before Joel’s fingers hook around your wrist.

You want to say it's not enough, that one night isn’t enough and it's unfair of him to pull you down next to him in the low, yellow light of a bedroom that isn’t yours.

But he smells nice, and his heart is pounding hard under your hand. And you realize that Joel is just as afraid as you are.

Just one night isn’t fair, but you accept it.

He flicks the light out, his mouth is soft against yours in the dark, and when his fingers pry your thighs apart and he groans into your mouth, you don’t stop him.

You do end up seeing him in the morning, even though you made a point to sneak out of that bedroom to the other one after he fell asleep.

He’s in the stables, also trying to steal a horse.

“I’m givin’ her a choice,” he says, not looking at you, fiddling with the straps on the saddle.

You nod, “Good.”

The mare you select is gentle, nosing carefully into your palm. You don’t really expect him to continue. You don’t want to say goodbye again.

“You deserve a choice too. Shouldn’ta treated you like I did.”

You work on saddling the horse. You don’t look at him. “Yeah,” you agree.

He shifts. You can tell he’s trying to catch your eyes. “I want you to have one too.”

“I already made my choice, Joel. Whether you were giving me one or not.”

He gives a curt nod when you finally glance up. “Alright.” Then, frustration creeping into his tone, “So fuckin’ hardheaded - I’m offerin’ anyways. I’m givin’ it to you anyways.”

You stare at him for a long moment, assessing him, when Tommy and Ellie arrive. She chooses him in an instance, not even giving him a chance to finish his offer, as you’d suspected. To your surprise she whips around and glares at you. “You coming or what?”

Something tells you not to say no, not to Ellie, not about anything.

“I guess I am,” you tilt your head at her.

“Great,” she says, her voice still made of steel, trying to seem like she doesn’t care one way or another.

Tommy doesn’t say anything about you taking the horse, just lets you lead her out behind Joel and Ellie’s.

The second time you find yourself in Jackson, you can’t decide what to make of it.

It’s spring, flowers bloom in window boxes, vegetables grow in fertile clusters in the community garden. There’s a little market in the center of town.

The myriad of animals are having babies.

The air is clean and cool, the sun warm.

School children dart by in little clusters, laughter on their lips.

For all intents and purposes, you figure Jackson is what a normal town must have been like.

There’s a clothing shop, a bar, a movie theater, a salon.

You can’t breathe as you take all of it in. It’s overwhelming. It’s alien to you.

There are people everywhere. It’s crowded.

You’ve only been around Ellie and Joel for months on end, aside from the fucking cannibals you’d encountered in the woods, aside from all those fireflies Joel had gunned down in Salt Lake City.

Even still, back in Kansas City, crowds meant trouble, meant someone was probably about to launch tear gas at you.

Maria is talking you through something, something about working in the garden, in the stables, with the horses, baking, something, something, something -

“-I know we put you up with Joel and Ellie,” she says.

You blink, tuning back in. You can feel the hollows under your eyes.

Maria has her hands on her hips. She’s watching you carefully. The ringing in your ears dies down. Instead you hear the hum of voices, the hammering of nails into wood, some new construction going up.

You slip a hand up to your throat, to clutch at a necklace that was no longer there.

“We can find somewhere else for you,” she says, her eyes glued to your face. “If you don’t want to stay there.”

You blink. “Why wouldn’t I?” Then, “Did Joel say something?”

“No, he didn’t,” Maria says with a shake of her head. “Just figured you might want your own space. I wanted to ask you directly. Without Joel around.”

You don’t answer her, not sure how. Her tone is concerned.

It won’t be the first time someone gets concerned about you and Joel. You never thought you’d miss the cloak of an old soul. Never thought you’d miss the accusations of not fun, too mature, dark, anti-social.

You aren’t sure what to say anyway, not sure what she’s thinking.

You’re a year older than you were the last time you were in Jackson, and you still aren’t sure what it is you and Joel are.

After all the things you’d done together. All the time you’d spent together.

He’d moved heaven and earth to find you and Ellie. He’d almost died. You’d almost died. Ellie nearly had.

He’d held your hand in quiet moments, without comment, when Ellie explored ahead of you a little, never out of your sight. You were never alone, not that you minded. The most things ever came to between you the last few months were stolen kisses and linked hands.

Well, you were more than roommates.

Or, so you hope, now that you’re back in Jackson.

They hadn’t forced you to start working right away, or participating in the community, because, well, you must have looked like hell. You needed a couple weeks to settle in, Tommy had said, Maria eyeing the pack of you warily.

Fair enough, you had thought. You should be under someone’s supervision.

You remember fire, the blur of snow and trees, the sound of gunfire, being trapped in a patient room in a hospital, gunfire ricocheting in the distance. Nails bloody when the door finally opened, when your voice was hoarse from shouting. His eyes had been blank, unseeing, Ellie cradled in his arms.

You still aren’t really sure what happened in Salt Lake City.

The first few nights in Jackson had found you, Ellie, and Joel mock camping on the living room floor of the house you’d stayed in before. It felt better that way, to be together, to know the door was barricaded and that each of you was within reach.

Only after a week had you finally moved to the bedrooms. Joel never asked if you wanted to share, he was just there, mouth between your legs, hands everywhere they could reach, breath caught in your lungs, stickiness between you.

That was only once, weeks ago, though you slept in the same bed each night.

Maybe, now, here, where there were beautiful people, unworn by time, and untraumatized, he’d find someone else. Someone closer to his own age, that his own brother’s wife didn’t have to corner and question to make sure she wasn’t in distress.

“You should ask Joel what he wants,” you find yourself saying, a vicious kind of satisfaction bolting through you in putting it back on him to define, to talk about. “So, am I working in the kitchen?”

Maria assesses you for just a beat too long, clearly trying to discern something from your words. “Yeah,” she answers eventually. But she seems to relax at the iron tone of your voice. “Or the garden. Or both. It’s up to you.”

“I’ll do both,” you agree. “I can pull my weight.”

She opens her mouth, but you’re already walking away.

“What did you say to Maria?” Joel asks you that night.

You’re undressing in the bathroom that’s adjoined to the bedroom you share with him. His voice is muffled through the door. You stare at yourself in the mirror over the sink. You blink, not sure how long you’ve been standing there.

A scar, long and puckered, cuts across your shoulder and over your collarbone. More litter your biceps, the curve of your waist.

You try smiling at yourself, but it feels wrong, like you have jagged teeth in your mouth. Maybe if you were prettier and softer and easier, Joel would say what you are. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so afraid of claiming you.

Joel says your name when you don’t answer.

He was different after you left Jackson, all those months ago. Softer around the edges with Ellie, with you. He’d become talkative and animated.

He’d started smiling.

He smiles in Jackson, now that you’re starting to settle in. He’s looser. He has his brother, and Ellie, and a community that might embrace him and his.

Joel repeats your name, a line of tension under the syllables of it. “Joel,” you answer, the fog around you clearing just a little, the buzzing in your ears dying down. “What’d you say?”

“What’d you say to Maria?” The doorknob rattles.

You turn and unlock it.

When the door swings open, Joel’s eyes stay latched onto yours, not drifting down your bare torso. “Nothing,” you answer, “What’d you say to her?”

Joel stares at you, brows drawn together, eyes assessing. “What’d you want me to tell her?”

“The truth.”

His expression softens inexplicably. He steps over the threshold and shuts the door behind him. “Yeah,” he agrees. “And that’s what I did.”

“What is the truth to you, Joel?” You ask, shivering when his calloused hands anchor on your hips.

His knuckles skim up your sides, but he doesn’t answer. You scoff and pull away from him. “So you can say it, just not to me.” You lean over to turn the shower on, waiting for it to warm with an impatient hand under the spray. “That’s just fucking great, Joel.”

Once that water is lukewarm and you can no longer stand Joel’s silence at your back, you strip out of the rest of your clothes and step into the spray.

You shiver but don’t make a noise. That there is any heated water at all is something of a miracle. You’ve taken your fair share of ice baths over the years. “If you’re ashamed,” you say just loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the spray. “Just fucking tell me. We can end this now.”

There’s a long minute of silence where the water goes hot against your skin. You don’t move, listening to the sudden sounds of Joel undressing.

You lock your teeth together, irritated at him. He’s going to rip back the shower curtain and crowd you. He won’t admit a damn thing. He’s just going to touch you and whisper sweet words that don’t mean anything, not really.

Instead, his fingers curl into the shower curtain and pause. “Can I?”

You hesitate for only a second, surprised. “Yeah,” you answer.

The curtain slithers back and closes again, and then his arms curl around you. You look down at his skin against yours, the wet press of your chest against his forearms. His skin is scarred, not so different from your own. There are a few age spots, but otherwise, the only thing you see is strong, muscled flesh. You see hardened, capable hands.

You feel, despite everything, the safety of him.

He’s warm against your back. “I told her,” his mouth brushes the curve of your ear and you close your eyes. “That you’re mine.” He pauses, lips skimming over the side of your neck, “She seemed to think I might be holdin’ somethin’ over you. But I think you convinced her plenty that you don’t do anything you don’t want.”

Your heart does a somersault over your ribs. “Yours how?” You ask, a hot fist closing on your throat.

“Goddamnit,” he says, turning you in his arms, “You know how.” He cups your face, “You know.”

You search his eyes, and don’t answer, eventually tipping your head up to kiss him.

Joel meets your mouth without a noise of complaint, wet fingers slipping down your body, divoting into the flesh of your ass. “Maria said you seem like you can put me in my place,” he mumbles, while your eyes are still closed, his breath warm against your parted lips. “She ain’t worried about it anymore.”

“Well,” you shift your hand between your bodies, fingers grazing the base of his cock. “Don’t I? Put you in your place?”

He nods, dipping his head to capture your mouth again, his tongue pressing between your lips. His exploration of your mouth is slow, gentler than it ever has been before.

Maybe because he has the time, maybe because he’s finally accepting that the feelings he harbored for you were okay, with the acceptance of Tommy and Maria.

Either way, you like the way he moans into your mouth when you draw your hand down his cock, pumping him slowly in your fist. His breath sounds caught, strangled. “Y’do.” He swallows thickly around a groan. “Y’know you’re the one in charge here, right? Ya always have been.”

You hum and kiss him again. The bathroom turns foggy with humidity, Joel’s hands never stop moving over you, caressing the curves and dips of your body, his mouth open against yours. He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t try to guide you at all.

When you kiss him with teeth, nipping at his lip, something like a pained moan slips past his lips. “Joel,” you murmur.

“You’re mine like this, ain’t ya?” He asks, rutting forward into your hand. “Just like this.” His voice is low and raspy. “Every single way. Just like I’m yours.”

Something in that ice cold center of your heart preens, chips and breaks and shatters against the solidity of him.

You don’t like that. You hate that Joel makes you vulnerable, and you hate even more the desperate whine it draws out of you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” his hands slide to the plush curve of your ass again, his thumb slipping between the backs of your thighs. “I got you.”

You jerk away, and twist your fist over his cock. He hisses and you sink to your knees instead.

You stare up at him through the spray of water from overhead. He’s panting, a flush from the heat of the room high up in his cheeks, on the tips of his ears. You can’t look at him, at the naked affection and need blowing his pupils wide.

Instead you jerk him in your fist and watch a bead of pearly white drip from the slit. He groans when you take him into your mouth.

He cups his hand at the back of your head, not to shove you down, but to guide, the pressure light. Your eyes flutter closed, the loud parts of your brain going suddenly silent and still.

There’s only you and Joel and the warm water.

Most people in Jackson don’t give a damn about you and Joel, but some do.

You’ve learned to live with it, the little comments and questions, mostly from the concerned women you worked with in the garden and kitchen.

Voices that ask if you’re alright, that occasionally condescend to you, that treat you with kid gloves.

You want to scream, didn’t they see. Don’t they see how he looks at you? Why couldn’t they see how he treated you, reverent and with respect? Didn’t they know you saved his ass way more times than he’d saved yours?

Don’t they know you’re tough and capable? You were no one’s damsel, you were no one’s little doll. And Joel tended to live by your rules, when he figured out you wouldn’t live by his. He’s said it himself, you’re in charge, he follows you.

The more crude comments don’t reach your ears anymore, the ones uttered at the bar around drinks about why Joel really kept you around. You’d put a stop to hearing it when you’d nearly gutted a man on Main Street, knife from your back pocket pressed to his throat as you asked him to say it again.

You’d been reprimanded for that, and since then you’ve done your best to clip your more violent thoughts. You still think about it sometimes, harbor the fantasy for the next time someone might dare.

Joel had laughed when he heard. “Atta girl.” He’d told you then, too, that he liked that about you. Your sharp dark eyes, and protective violence clenched in your fist.

Still you know the whispers among some persist. That you’re nothing more than a youthful cunt. Somewhere nice and warm for Joel to stick his cock, pleased by anything and willing to do anything to keep a roof over your head, to be a pretty little housewife.

You aren’t that. You’ll never be that. Though you do feel like you’ve been declawed.

Most, though, seem to take you exactly as you are, a little family.

The word makes you uncomfortable sometimes, because you’ve never really had a family and neither has Ellie. Not in this way at least. Though you aren’t really old enough to be her mom, you fall into it anyways, if a little clumsily.

You like having people to care about.

And Ellie, she seems to like it too. She seems to like visiting you in the kitchen or the garden during her lunch breaks at school. Joel is usually still out on patrol, so she sits with you and eats.

Some days she’s quiet, and you never have to wonder what’s on her mind.

“Do you think we’ll always be together?” She asks you one afternoon.

She’s sitting on a bench in the community garden watching you harvest.

“Hope so, kiddo,” You answer honestly, a basket of tomatoes on your hip when you stand, because Jackson is starting to make you just a little soft. It’s domesticating you, taking the teeth out of your mouth, the blood off your hands. You feel tranquilized and lethargic after months there, at the same time that you feel you’re finally seeing who you’d have been without a world of cordyceps.

You get to read again, and this time it's from love and not to hide from your reality. You take up knitting and stitching and you have a good steady hand for it. Joel teaches you and Ellie to play the guitar when he finds one.

Ellie nods, fidgeting with the sandwich in her hands. “Not hungry again?” You ask, setting the basket down. You take a seat next to her on the bench in the late summer sun.

She shakes her head. “Alright, well, how about we split it then? Half is easier than whole.” And it would still get some food in her.

Ellie blinks at you, looks at the sandwich again. “Yeah, I can do that.” She passes you half and you eat it in silence. “Thanks.” You don’t respond, matching the pace of her bites so you’ll finish at the same time, so it won’t overwhelm her.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say something to her, but you also aren’t sure you can let her feel so alone. You know why she doesn’t sleep, why sometimes she didn’t want to be touched and eating became a chore.

You look away from her, over the community garden.

Fat bumblebees float along over the stems and vines of the plants. The faint buzz of insects hum in the grass, matching pace with the low chatter of the others tending the garden. The air is tangy with ozone and wet earth from a recent rain.

You think of that hole inside you, black with memories blocked by your mind.

“When I was - when I was younger, I went through something like you did. I want you to know that. In case you ever want to talk.”

The words are like grit in your teeth, like gravel churning in your lungs. You’ve never been good at talking, about speaking what lives inside you - it's why you understand Joel and Ellie so well, they didn’t always communicate with words either. And you’ve never spoken about this, not ever.

Ellie’s head whips to the side to stare at you. “You - you mean -,”

“Yeah,” you cut her off, not glancing over. “I don’t remember it though. It’s like this big black hole in my memory. Everything goes in, nothing comes out. Anyway, I know how it can make you feel. So, I just want you to know that.”

You sense more than see Ellie nodding next to you. She slides just a bit closer to you, and some tension falls away from your shoulders.

You lean back in your seat and wish for a hat, the way the sun glares down at you. “Making any friends at school?” You change the subject when it's clear she’s not going to say anything, content with your presence.

She shakes her head, taking another tentative bite of the sandwich. “Are you trying to?”

“Why the fuck should I?” She says. “I have you.”

You should probably tell her she needs friends her own age. But that’s not what she needs to hear at that moment. That wasn’t what you ever needed to hear as a child. “You have me,” you confirm, bumping your shoulder into hers. “Everything else alright though?”

“Yep,” she nods. “Fine. Normal. I mean, I think it's normal.”

You nod and touch her hand briefly before standing. “I’m not the best person to ask to gauge what normal is.”

“You’ve settled into it better than I have,” she replies, gesturing at you as though it explained everything.

You lift your basket and shake your head, a scoff on your lips. “No. I’m just distracted.” You fidget with your hands, wishing for the millionth time that you had your rings back.

You’re just doing your best not to cause problems, for Ellie or for Joel. You’re trying not to be antisocial and vicious, trying not to scare away potential friends with feral teeth. Trying to prove you were better than threatening to gut someone on the street.

Sometimes your place in Jackson feels tentative, like at any moment Joel could realize you’d never fit in, that there were easier options open to him. Easier and prettier and kinder than someone like you, someone who didn’t constantly glance over her shoulder, who wasn’t filled to the brim with the sludge of old memories. Especially now that you aren't traveling anymore and you have the opinions of others to contend with.

He could pick something easier.

“Go back to school for me.”

You start to walk away when her voice calls you back. “Can I stay with you for the rest of the day? Just for today?”

Again, you know you should say no, pack her off back to school. But you have a feeling she wouldn’t go anyway. She’d get lost somewhere between the kennels and the stables and never make it there.

“Sure. Just for today. For finishing your lunch.”

She bolts up behind you when you hold out a hand and trails you for the rest of the day. She holds the basket for you, pesters you with questions you’re all too willing to answer.

“I never asked you,” she says, “But how’d you know all that stuff? About trapping and hunting and-,” she gestures at the garden. “This. You grew up in a QZ. I didn’t know shit about this stuff.”

“There are ways,” you lean down, plucking a few weeds while Ellie stands by your shoulder. “My dad was a poacher. I went with him. You know the right people and give them the right stuff, they turn a blind eye.” You swallow. “‘Til they don’t anymore.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” she says, her hand fidgeting with the collar of your shirt. You cover her hand and squeeze, before going back to your work.

When the end of the day nears, you let her lead you to the stables to wait for Joel to return from patrol.

There’s a light in his eyes when he sees you waiting for him that defies everything you’d been through together. You can’t help smiling at him, watching the way Ellie visibly relaxes at his return.

The two of them, Jackson, feels like the closest you’ll ever come to having a real home.

It plants a cold seed of doubt in you about whether it could last, but the warmth in your soul tells you something else.

That the hand Joel steadies against your back is there to stay, in defiance of anything that tried to follow you or pry you apart.

It’s only later that night when you’re getting ready for bed that you notice Joel’s knuckles are bruised, the skin across the top split open. “Hey,” you pick up his hand when he’s pulling back the sheets. The flesh is cracked, red, the bloom of violet beneath, like a summer rain cloud. “What happened?”

To your surprise, he chuckles, the sound homely and warm. “What?” You snap, not letting go, the iron clasp of your heart snapping closed at the sound.

“Nothin’,” his voice is amused, and it only serves to make your hackles raise further. “You just get this look when-,”

You drop his hand and spin around, going to the bathroom to root through a cabinet for the first aid kit instead.

When you return, he’s waiting for you. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, hand held loosely on his knee. He doesn’t protest when you sit down and pick it up, your thumb running over his scarred fingers.

You clean his wound without a word, carefully taking care of it despite your irritation with him.

Since you’ve been in Jackson, Joel’s patience has grown tenfold. He’s gentle where it matters. He’s always concerned. You think he’s closer to what he might have been like before the outbreak, a patient, enduring father.

“You just get this look,” he continues his earlier thought, even when you stiffen, “when you’re worried. Like you’re liable to go burn somethin’ down.”

You grit your teeth and wrap a bandage over the wound. “I guess I would.” You glance up, cup your palm over the bandage. It’s warm beneath your touch, pulsing, and you know it must hurt more than he lets on. “So what happened?”

Joel holds your gaze for a long moment before he nods and glances away. “Nobody says anythin’ to ya, do they? Gives you a hard time about me and you?”

“Not usually,” you say with a frown. “And not anymore, not really. It’s all died down. Only those ladies at the garden sometimes.”

He nods. “I don’t want anyone givin’ you the idea you don’t matter to me.”

You raise a brow and wait.

He clenches his jaw, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “One of the guys I was on patrol with made the mistake of talkin’ about you.”

You blink, surprised. Though the people of Jackson had come to embrace Joel, he still carried a reputation. “What’d he say?”

“Just that I was wastin’ my time,” he admits. “Young thing like you, you’re bound to get bored. Move on, now there’s younger guys around. Especially now you don’t need my protectin’ so much. Only they don’t know you never needed it.”

You imagine that whatever he’d actually said was much cruder than that. You’d thought that those comments were one-sided, directed at only you.

When the shock wears off, you squeeze Joel’s hand. “You know I’ve heard the exact opposite, right? You’re only chasing after my pussy and that you’ll get bored of me and ditch me when I stop being fun.”

He snorts, “Is that right? Can’t be right, y’didn’t almost stab someone over it once.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “They still don’t know I’m not any fun, I guess.”

Joel huffs a laugh under his breath. “You’re plenty what I need. Fun and all.”

You tilt your head, “How’d I come up exactly?”

Joel hesitates, and his voice is cagey when he continues. “I’ve been tryin’ to, uh, find somethin’ for you. Haven’t come across it yet, so don’t ask.”

You decide to leave that be for a moment. Despite yourself, your heart flutters in your throat. The sentiment is enough, even if he never finds whatever he’s searching for. Because it's for you. “So you punched this guy?”

“I won’t hear talk about you like that.”

You nod and pat his hand again, carefully releasing his grip. “Alright. Up,” you shift, nudging him up so you can get beneath the sheets he’d so carefully drawn back.

Joel chuckles and turns out the light, tucking himself next to you in the dark. “Joel,” you reach for his hand. “Just so - just so you know, I don’t want anyone else. You know that right?”

It’s easier to be honest in the dark, safer.

“Yep,” he slides one arm behind your back. “I did get that impression.”

You hum, your fantasy of sticking your knife in the next person to say something to you about him flashing behind your eyes. You might actually do it, if someone says something to him about it in your presence. “It’s true.”

A heavy silence settles, the creaking of the house settling the only sound. “You have to tell me, you know,” you say as his hands travel down your back to flirt with the hem of your underwear.

“Tell you what?” He asks, hands dipping beneath the fabric. His hands are hot against your skin, and when he squeezes the flesh you wriggle closer to him, throwing one leg over his hip. His hands cup your ass and pull you impossibly closer, until you’re practically molded against him. “What am I supposed to tell you?”

You roll your eyes and tip your chin against his, shifting your head back and forth so the scrape of his facial hair rubs against your skin. His dark eyes shine in the shadows, latched onto yours. “What you were looking for that got you in trouble.”

His hands, large and soothing, drift back up your spine. His fingers dance over your ribs, counting the ladder of them, pressing into your flesh to feel the bone buried beneath. Your heart wings against his hand. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never,” you coo, sliding your nose along his jaw. “Tell me, Joel. So you didn’t punch someone for nothing.”

“I didn’t punch him for nothin’,” he replies. You laugh into his neck, relaxing your body against his. “I’ve - I - if this is, uh, outta line, just tell me,” he hesitates. “We’ll never talk about it again. But I’ve been lookin’ for somethin’ nice for ya. Jewelry. Necklace, maybe. Since you lost all yours. Said you miss it.”

It’s unexpected. It makes tears burn behind your eyes. You’d said that to him months ago, lifetimes ago.

You take a long time to respond to him, but Joel doesn’t say anything else. When his breathing starts to quicken, you push one hand under his shirt, soothingly running your fingers over his back.

“You don’t have to do that,” you croak and then try to clear your throat.

“Sure I do,” he answers. “I want to. Maybe you can come along sometime. Look for yourself.” He chuckles, and then jokes, “Get your brass knuckles back.”

Your throat is too tight to answer, so you just nod.

Silly, how you’d been worried earlier that he’d look for easier and prettier and kinder.

He likes your teeth, your darkness, just fine.

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