justanother-nerds-blog

[justanother-nerds-blog]

But you’ll find the real thing instead.

[justanother-nerds-blog]

"To the beautiful boy whose heart I broke in December. To my first love who I never thought would be my first heartbreak. To my band. To a mean man I used to be afraid of. To someone who made my world very dark for a while. To a girl who stole something of mine. To someone I forgive for what he said in front of the whole world."

[justanother-nerds-blog]

when you take that first step off a rollercoaster

[justanother-nerds-blog]

OSCAR ISAAC 89th Annual Drama League Awards, New York May 19, 2023

[justanother-nerds-blog]

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller

The Last of Us (2023-)

Created by Craig Mazin & Neil Druckmann

[justanother-nerds-blog]

And once again she has brought out Aaron

[justanother-nerds-blog]

Can't believe they sang this as a duet

[justanother-nerds-blog]

a stranger's heart without a home epilogue

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: Now that you've found a place by Joel's side, you know you'll never leave.

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Smut (18+ Only MDNI) unprotected p in v sex, praise kink. Language (y'all know it by now), so much Fluff

A/N: We will return to this story with one-shots, drabbles, sequels, prequels, AUs, and whatever else I can think up, because I love these characters sm and I don't think I can ever let them go completely. But I hope that you guys enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. All my love sent to every one of you!

Wordcount: 3k

chapter 1 || chapter 19 || chapter 20 || masterlist

ao3 link

Waking up without being wrapped up in Joel’s warmth was not a feeling you were fond of.

So when your eyes slowly blinked open one morning, the bed empty beside you, a deep frown crossed your face as you were immediately thrown into a bad mood.

You grumbled to yourself, turning over to try and get some more sleep, even though you knew it was a hopeless cause when you were alone.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, glaring at his unoccupied side of the bed before slowly getting out of bed.

Despite your grumpy, early morning annoyance, you moved about his bedroom subconsciously, stooping down to pick up your panties that had landed across the room last night to pull them on before grabbing his flannel next.

Walking towards the hallway as you buttoned the shirt up, you paused in the doorway, head lifting as you sniffed at the air again when a peculiar scent caught your attention.

Was that…?

That frown that had been fixed on your face since you woke up quickly evaporated, melting into a small smile as you made your way towards the staircase, taking the steps two at a time before swinging around and heading towards where that delicious smell was coming from.

You didn’t try and sneak around Joel, but your footsteps were light by nature, and he had no idea you had found your way into the edge of the room as he turned over whatever was sizzling in the pan on the stove—though you had a pretty good idea just what it was from the smell.

Unable to help yourself, you loitered in the doorway, leaning against it with arms crossed, head resting against the edge as you watched him make you breakfast with a warm smile on your face.

When he turned to grab something off the counter, he finally saw you, jumping with a mumbled curse, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself at the sight of such a prepared man being taken aback.

Joel’s eyes darted across your face and down your body, a small smirk twitching onto his lips at the sight of his flannel barely reaching past your thighs as he murmured, “Morning, darlin’.”

“Good morning,” you hummed in response, pushing yourself off the doorframe to walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a slow, sweet kiss before the sound of popping from the pan made him tear himself away from you.

You glanced towards the pan, seeing that your theory had been correct, but you still found yourself asking with a growing smile, “Is that bacon?”

“Yup,” Joel replied, stealing a glance at you as he was in the midst of turning the strips of thin, crispy meat over again, checking that they were fully cooked before removing the pan from the heat. “Gift from Tommy.”

“How kind of him,” you teased, reaching for one of the pieces of bacon before Joel playfully swatted your hand away.

“Table,” he insisted, nodding towards the small table next to the window where he insisted you ate your meals together, and you sighed dramatically, even as you were helpless to resist his endearing Southern manners while you walked towards it.

Plopping yourself down in a seat, you rested your chin on your hand, content to watch the domestic scene of him setting the bacon on three plates along with the eggs he had apparently also scrambled, before bringing two of the plates towards you.

You knew the last plate was to be saved for Ellie, and you smiled at the simple show of his affection for his surrogate daughter, before turning your attention towards your food.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, not needing to fill the air between you with any unnecessary words, the same way it had always been between you, even before…this.

It was funny, how once you had allowed yourself to start falling, you couldn’t stop.

Most of your days were spent in Joel’s home now instead of your own. It wasn’t an adjustment either of you commented on, as most things went unspoken between you—but you had caught Joel’s smile when you brought your sister’s childhood drawing over to rest on the fireplace mantle next to Ellie’s drawing of Joel.

With your clothes in his closet and the old photograph that you had caught him observing set up next to his pictures with his daughters on his dresser—“your parents?” he had asked one day, and you nodded, letting him take in the picture without forcing you to speak on the matter until you were ready—you settled right into your place by his side, knowing for certain that now you had found your spot there, you would never leave.

When Ellie burst through the back door, saying something about smelling bacon until she froze in the doorway at the sight of you sitting at Joel’s table, in his flannel, sharing his breakfast with him, the young girl burst into laughter as your cheeks flushed, and Joel groaned.

“Ellie—”

“I knew it!” Ellie cackled, pointing between you with a gleeful glint in her eye. “We all fucking knew it!”

Joel rolled his eyes, glancing at you to make sure you were okay, but you were smiling yourself now, trying to obscure a giggle with a cough as he shook his head and rose to grab the third plate of breakfast.

It didn’t take much coaxing for Ellie to join you at the small table then once Joel brought over another chair, and you glanced between the two with a grin as Ellie refused to let Joel eat in peace, teasing him over your presence at every single opportunity, and drawing a laugh from you every time she did so.

Joel just shook his head, letting out sighs every time Ellie would rib him about it, but you saw the warmth in the smile he tried to conceal behind each bite as he looked between the two of you, sitting together with him in his home.

When Ellie left to meet up with Dina and Jesse for some regularly scheduled mayhem for the day, you barely began to clean the dishes before Joel’s hands were on you, sliding up your thighs and under the flannel while he tugged you back into him.

“Joel—”

He interrupted your half-hearted protests with his lips pressed to yours, drawing moans from your mouth as he turned and lifted you easily, setting you on the edge of the counter to take you while you still wore his shirt.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered the first time you had found yourselves like this—pressed against the counter in your kitchen, your back to him as he fucked into you until you both found much-needed release, no matter how short, how temporary.

Now he held you tightly to him, rolling his hips into you at a leisurely pace, facing you fully with his lips pressed to yours again and again, taking all the time in the world with you.

Because that was what you had.

All the time in the world.

When you were finished, it didn’t last for long, only taking the time to clean up the mess you had made before you were scooped up into his arms, your bright laughter echoing through the house as he carried you up the stairs to have you again in his bed.

You would never get tired of being with him like this, and you knew he felt the same just from the words he murmured every time he was inside of you—murmurs of “fuck, sweetheart, so perfect, so good for me” and whimpers of “oh, mi luna, always want you, always.”

That late morning, when you were spent in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest to listen to his heartbeat slow back down to a calming pace, you found yourself saying quietly, “Hey, Joel?”

“Hm?” he hummed, fingers dragging up and down your spine in a lazy, affectionate manner, and you smiled against his skin before pulling yourself up so you could share his pillow with him.

“I’m gonna ask you something, just—” you cut yourself off, sighing as you felt your cheeks heat, avoiding his searching, curious gaze before you mumbled, “Just don’t laugh.”

“Mm,” he hummed again, arching an eyebrow as you looked back at him, and you smacked him in the chest as he teased, “No promises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, the harsh words devoid of any bite and instead filled with a fond warmth, and he chuckled, the sound softening you as you gazed into his eyes and asked, “Do you believe in other lives?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, clearly wondering what had brought this on as he looked over your face, but to his credit, he didn’t judge your line of thought as he replied truthfully, “I dunno, I’ve never really thought about it. Why?”

With a sigh, you traced the lines of his face with the tips of your fingers, grazing them over the scar near his temple as you answered, “I just…”

You shrugged, trying to avoid his gaze again as you suddenly felt self-conscious, stupid at the soft sentiment that you had been mulling over the past few nights.

But Joel was having none of that.

“Look at me.”

Even though the gentle, firm command made you blink in surprise, you followed it instantly, almost subconsciously as your gaze flickered up to meet his.

Joel searched your eyes, probably trying to find the reason for this unexpected question, and you distracted yourself from his quick calculation by glancing down his own body when he shifted himself to face you better.

Between his legs, you could see his cock was stirring again just from having you this close to him, half-hard and Jesus, even though he had just fucked you so well—twice—you still wanted him. You were sore and aching, blissed out from far more than one orgasm and you still wanted him.

Would you ever stop wanting him?

Biting your lip, you began to wonder if you could convince him to partake in a third round, and then maybe then you could bring it up, pour your soul out to him as you rode his dick that you watched twitch under your rapt attention.

Knowing that just the simplicity of your eyes on him evoked such a response from him, your desire for him eliciting his own desire for you, made your heart begin to race again, and, fuck, now you just wanted to—

Your name being muttered pulled your attention back as you began to fully space out, and you blinked a few times, looking up as Joel gently pushed you back onto the bed to hover over you.

His thumb brushed along the scar on your cheek, a story you had yet to tell him, just as he had yet to tell you the story of the one on his temple. You knew you would speak of each hidden part of your lives eventually, but you were in no rush, content in how you already knew him as well as you knew yourself.

“Look at me,” he murmured again, and you did.

Joel’s thumb moved to stroke along your chin and up the edge of your jaw, and your eyelashes fluttered, helpless to resist his request as he whispered, “Tell me.”

Licking your lips, you finally found the courage in his comforting warmth to say, “Do you think we found each other?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, still not following your line of thought, and you sighed quietly, heart racing in your chest as you clarified, “In another life.”

At the clarification, Joel’s face softened, his hand reaching back up to cup your cheek as his eyes locked with yours.

Open, honest, real, and you knew that if you did meet him in any other lives, you were without a doubt fated to helplessly fall for him all over again.

“Do you think we found each other in another life?” you asked quietly, breath trembling as you danced your fingers over his face, cupping his cheek in the same way he still held yours. “Where nothing bad ever happened to us?”

Joel’s lips were already pressed to yours, desperately kissing you as you finished the question, and you sighed into the affectionate action, knowing his answer even before he parted from you to speak.

“I hope so,” he whispered, bumping his nose against yours as he stole another kiss before laying back down to face you on his side again. “Sarah would have loved you.”

The genuine comment brought a surprised laugh from you, the sound nothing but fond as you smiled at him. “And my Little Star would have loved you.”

Joel returned your smile, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer, his forehead resting against yours before he asked, “What would this life have looked like?”

You hummed in thought, resting your cheek against the pillow to glance over his face, the open, earnest affection in his deep brown gaze, considering the question before answering, “I go to school for photography, and my sister and I move in next door to you.”

“Interesting,” Joel said slowly, his brow arching as he smiled slowly at the scenario you were setting up. “Go on.”

“Well, you are absolutely smitten with me at first sight, of course,” you teased, heart racing as the word smitten left your lips, the description much closer to the feelings you shared for each other, but never dared to speak of directly, even now.

To his credit, Joel didn’t hesitate, his eyes filled with warmth that was only for you as he murmured without missing a beat, “Of course.”

Butterflies were taking flight in your stomach to fill your entire being, and you suddenly felt like you were in something as close to heaven as you could get, unable to help but grin as you continued, “My sister and Sarah become best friends. Tommy’s there too, of course—he comes over for dinner every Friday.”

“Damn, can’t get rid of him even in our fantasy,” Joel teased, and you smacked his shoulder, earning a deep chuckle from him that made your heart skip a beat.

“Every Saturday, we have our movie night, with all five of us,” you continued, speaking slowly, as if you didn’t want this fantasy to come to an end as you imagined it in the comfort of your shared bed with Joel. “With my feet in your lap, and you and Tommy complain about the acting while the girls laugh and tell you both to shut up.”

Joel’s smile was still on his face, but it softened even more into something you didn’t recognize, a look you had seen from him on occasion, one that made your heart race as you struggled to find the next words, “And on Sundays, we spend the mornings in bed, like this. You fuck me, and I kiss you, and you say—”

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

You looked at Joel, seeing his entire soul laid bare to you as he placed his heart into your hands without a second thought.

And then your heart started again, pounding against your chest as you licked your lips and whispered the truth you had known, deep down in your soul, for a long time, “I love you, too.”

Joel’s smile then could be described as almost giddy, his kisses nearly joyous as he pressed them to your lips and all over your face, and you laughed, wrapping your arms around him, limbs entangling as you rolled around in your bed and kissed and kissed until you both lost your breath.

When you settled again, foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath, you asked quietly, “When did you know?”

Joel tucked a hair behind your ear, shrugging a shoulder as he answered, “I don’t know. I think I knew for a while, in some way.”

You hummed, giving your agreement to the sentiment in the sound as you gazed at each other, no more barriers left between you as he added softly, “I think that, when I met you—I could tell.”

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you raised an eyebrow as you asked, “Really?”

“Well,” he licked his lips, shifting onto his back to gaze up at you, his hand caressing your back as he explained, “Not love, but—there was some part of you that felt like a part of me.”

You softened then, tears nearly springing to your eyes as you knew exactly what he meant. It was a feeling you had experienced too, for a longer time than you think you even knew. Joel had always been a kindred spirit to you, not only in being a cold cynic, but in the loneliness deep inside his heart. For so long, you had no place to call home, and he was exactly the same.

And now he was your home, as you were his.

“Is that why you created those stupid fucking rules?” you asked, the comment eliciting a laugh out of him that you joined in with. “To keep me away?”

Joel’s thumb stroked along the small of your back, surprising you as he nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

You were struck silent for a moment, feeling an old ache in your chest that was only satisfied when you leaned down to kiss him again. “Well, you did a great job at keeping them.”

“Mm,” he hummed in content into your mouth, chasing your lips for another longer, deeper kiss when you pulled away. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, kissing him again before you laid on top of him, resting your head back onto his chest. “Me too.”

After a long moment of silence that was filled with nothing but an understanding for each other that rested in your souls, you spoke again.

“So it’s settled, then,” you said, raising your head back up to look down into his eyes. “You’ll find me in the next one.”

Joel smiled up at you, cupping your cheek as he pulled you down into a long, lingering kiss that told you everything you needed to know.

Still, he said it aloud, and you finally found peace with the four simple words.

“I’ll always find you.”

[justanother-nerds-blog]

“𝑺𝒐 𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚”

Francisco (Frankie) Morales x F!Reader ***SMUT WARNING*** (NSFW - Minors DNI - Read at your own risk, as I am not responsible for what you consume on the internet). You can call Frankie's shameless flirting fluff? First fic within my DoucheBag!Frankie AU Enemies-Lovers Trope if you squint Word Count: 5K Summary: Years after hating each other, Frankie runs into an old classmate and offers her a ride home. Note: Readers nickname is 'LC' (will be revealed in later fics). Readers best friend is nicknamed 'T'. Reader and Frankie took their Pilots Licensing class together. Frankie's an arrogant dickhead/liar. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Car$ex (Explicit Content: Unprotected PIV. Stimulation, Orgasms. Edging. Dom!Frankie. Dirty Talk. Mentions of Oral - f!receiving.) Pining (squint).

A/N: I'm so excited to be putting out works more frequently because of this AU. Pieces will be shorter than what you've gotten from me so far. Anything within this AU can be read solo or in conjunction with this first release. If the Frankie lovers have any prompts they would like to see - please send them my way. I can't promise ill be quick to use but it just may inspire me to create something and post it on the spot. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy xx -g<33 Theme Song: Go Fuck Yourself - Two Feet (I picture them f*ckin to this song hehehehe)

“Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales…went by Frankie?” 

You hold out your phone to face your best friend T. 

“Don’t you remember him?” You ask her, leaning over the small table in the crowed restaurant. 

Her eyes widen as she stares at the black and white picture from an article on your phone. 

“I do! He was friends with those assholes that used to cat call us!” She exclaims, before it registers 

“Wait,” a smile creeping along her face.

“This is the guy you fucked in the back of his truck?” 

You nod in confirmation and she hums, finally sitting back in her chair with defeat. 

“I don’t remember him being that hot?” She laughs, pointing down at the photo and taking a sip of wine. 

“Because that, I would definitely remember.” 

You both laugh more and your face becomes serious with wide eyes. 

“Honestly T, I was so drunk…I barely remember” 

You’re lying. Of course you remember fucking the Frankie Morales in the back of his truck. 

In so much detail that you can’t stop replaying it every time you blink. 

“And you haven’t heard anything from him since?” She stares at you as her lips graze the edge of her glass. 

“Nope. It’s been days and nothing.” You flatten your lips and raising your eyebrows, taking your phone back and exiting out of the article. 

“Wow, in true toxic fashion, what a fucking asshole” she huffs. 

“This is why we hate all men, him included.” 

You both clink your wine glasses in cheers. 

Unable to get your mind off of drunk sex in the back of Frankie’s truck; your memory transports you back to that night. 

What transpired after your car got towed, and it started to down pour. 

——

“No fuckin way!” You hear his voice break through the crowdedness of the bar. 

You have been out with some of your work friends at a local pub, celebrating a promotion. 

“LC, in the flesh.” 

As soon as you hear that nickname ring through your ears, you become nauseous. 

You turn around to face him. 

Frankie Morales but you know him as ‘Fish’. 

You’re not really sure why that was his nickname but if it was because he was slimy - it fit. 

“Francisco,” you greet him back. 

Asserting your dominance in the way you call him by his full name, unlike how he’s greeted you. 

“Geez, how longs’ it been?” He grins at you as he leans over the bar. His eyes becoming hooded as he holds his glass lazily and looks you up. 

His eyes lingering a little too long on your chest.

“Oh I don’t know,” you hum, squinting as you shift on your barstool. 

“Not long enough,” you snap at him. 

Looking at him brought back way too many memories of him and his friends always having shit to say about you and T. 

This was back before you had confidence. You were weak then but not now. 

You kept yourself together although the drunken look on his face solidifies the real reason he was paying such close attention to you. 

“You look,” he stops, his eyes doing another sweep of your body. 

“Incredible.” 

You scoff at his failed attempt at flattery, fighting off the strange feeling bubbling up in your stomach. 

“Don’t do that,” you groan at him, shaking your head and turning to look back at your friends. 

The table is preoccupied, no one noticing that you had been gone for a while already. 

“Do what?” He huffs out a laugh, eyes wide and his hands coming up in defence.

Your eyes drift back to his and you squint at him in silence. Your eyes roaming his entire face as he watches you, amused. 

“You haven’t changed,” he laughs, swiping a thumb over his moustache. 

He knows that look of concentration all too well. It’s exactly how you know his. 

The way his mouth parts and his tongue peeks out. How his eyebrows scrunch together. 

The way his strong hands grip that fucking control stick. 

Stop it

“What are you even doing here?” You ask, annoyed. 

You slow blink at him after finishing your fourth drink of the evening and motioning to the bartender again. 

Frankie is all too eager to answer your question. So much that you almost feel bad for him, looking like a little golden retriever. So different from the cocky, arrogant, douchebag he used to be. 

He points over his shoulder with his thumb as he slouches against the bar top. 

“With some of the guys,” 

This is the first time you seem tense and Frankie can tell. Your body pushing slightly off the stool to look over his shoulder at the group of obnoxiously loud men. Your eyes scan them carefully but you don’t recognize any of them. 

Thank god

Frankie’s eyes fall over your frame again and his mouth comes to an inaudible ‘o’ when he sees your bare legs. 

You would be lying if your stomach didn’t flip catching the end of his reaction. 

You curse your insides and suffocate the feeling. 

“Checkin’ for familiar faces?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you. 

During the entire interaction, he stands with his body completely turned to you. 

A smirk now on his face when you see it again - the same old arrogant Fish. 

You roll your eyes, turning yourself in the stool to face the bartender. 

Before you can speak, Frankie interrupts you.

“I’ll get another whiskey, neat…and we’ll get two of whatever she’s havin’.” 

With your mouth slightly agape, you turn to face him, again. 

He’s waiting for it. An insult, a form of rejection like always, but instead the liquor in your system is slowly taking over your brain and leaving your rational inhibitions like a breadcrumb trail.

“Two?” You ask, baffled. 

His body relaxes and he leans his elbows against the bar now, his head turning to look at you in a side eye. 

His eyes falling down your body for what feels like the billionth time that night. 

“You seem like you need ‘em.” 

You scoff just in time for the two drinks to be placed in front of you and Frankie hands the man cash. 

You grab one, putting the straw against your lips and Frankie watches as they purse and your cheeks hollow while you suck down the liquid. 

He stops himself before you notice the way he’s looking at you. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you bite your straw. 

It’s truly unintentional how attractive you look. 

“Yeah well,” he starts, now staring straight at the bar shelf full of liquor bottles. 

“Thought I’d buy them for ya…for all the bullshit we went through.” 

“You mean for all the bullshit you and that asshole put me through?” You cut him off, swallowing almost half the drink. 

Your eyes roam back over to your friends. You’re still not being missed as the liquor burns down your throat and into your stomach.  

“Will your friends live without you?” He asks, his attitude noting on the way you keep looking back at them. 

Your cheeks warm at him being so observant. 

You had hours of partnered flight training to thank for this.

“I suppose,” you sigh, after hesitating long enough to weigh the pros and cons of continuing this conversation with your old partner.

Frankie looks different now. More rugged and worn. His facial hair starting to grey and his hair under his cap long and unkept. How dare you say it was kinda sexy? 

You’re definitely drunk now

Your words being the deciding factor for Frankie to order you two more drinks on top of the ones you’re still working on. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Fish?” You half laugh. You don’t mean it flirty, although it certainly comes out that way. 

His eyes light up at the use of his nickname - finally.

“Ah, so now it’s fish?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as his bottom lip cradles his cup. 

“You’re 10% Fish, and 90% douchebag,” your mouth curving into a smirk after letting that slip. 

Liquid courage

His mouth now dropping open and his eyes seem to twinkle in playful shock. 

It makes both of you laugh some more. 

“Wow,” he hesitates, his eyelids drooping lower with what looks to be desire. 

“I guess I deserved that one.” 

You shrug as you stare into each others eyes. Frankie notices your strangely lustful expression before he speaks. 

“Entertain me for a sec,” 

He finally sits on the bar stool and turns himself to face you, his big muscular legs spreading open and his arms crossing over his chest. 

You look at him with wide, wondering eyes, unable to help yourself from smirking in your drunken state. 

You hate how good his attention makes you feel. 

It’s deep down and you’re too hammered to let it fester for too long. 

“Spit it out then,” you tease him. 

He can’t help but chuckle and reach for another sip of his drink. 

“You didn’t enjoy any of it?” 

You look at him confused, so he continues. 

“I mean, sure we were assholes… but did you ever enjoy when it was you know?” His voice trails off and his eyes become softer for a short moment. 

“You and I?” 

Your playful expression falls and you look away from him. 

Tying your eyes to a vintage sign on the wall, to take away from the pain in your expression. 

Of course you enjoyed it. The only time you could actually stand Frankie was in the cabin, when you had both been paired to fly testing drills together. 

When he wasn’t around everyone else, he was actually nice

Would you ever tell him this? No. 

You couldn’t possiblylet him have that. 

You harden your expression and turn back to face him. 

He’s still hopeful, unfortunately. 

“It was just drills Frankie,” you respond, sternly. 

His face turning away from yours so you can’t see his fallen expression. 

“Are you seriously bothered that I don’t think it was special?” You ask, laughing again.  

He seems so pathetic all of a sudden. 

If he hadn’t joined his best friend in absolutely humiliating you years ago, you would almost feel bad for him. 

He pauses for a second before turning to face you again. His expression looking as though he’s been met with some sort of challenge. “Special?” He hums at you, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I asked if you enjoyed it… I don’t know where you got special from but hey” he throws his arms up in defence again. “If that’s how you really feel.”

He winks at you playfully and you give his shoulder a quick shove. The action eliciting a genuine smile from him that you’ve only ever seen in the cabin of the helicopters, when it was just you and him. 

“Shut up!” you laugh. The alcohol in your system unable to keep up with all the banter.

“I mean, those drills with you were the only reason I was that well liked by the guys.” 

The way he looks at you sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes taking off each layer of protection you’ve created against him. 

You’re in shock at his revelation. Your mind not able to comprehend exactly what he means.

The look of your brows scrunching together in confusion, pushes him further. 

“You know you could have gotten with any one of us right?” His tongue reaches out across his lips before he sips his drink again.

You’re still quiet, blinking and squinting at him in disbelief. Your face starts to relax as you search his for any sign of bullshit. His lips curl into a grin as his mouth hovers at his glass. “Im serious,” He chuckles, keeping eye contact as the amber liquid enters his mouth. You look him up and down, assessing your odds with what you’re about to say. “Oh yeah?” you ask and he nods quick in confirmation. “Yes’mam,” he finishes his drink. “Even you?” Your words come out seductive and confident. You’ve given him the opportunity to continue this interaction when the old/sober you would have never let it get this far. He raises an eyebrow and his eyes slowly drag down your body again, in silence. He doesn’t say anything so you speak again, still confident through all the nervousness pooling in your stomach. “It’s a good thing I didn’t, ‘cause I can imagine everyone would have found out.” You’re now working on the last drink that he ordered you, your head spinning with memories of licensing school, Frankie, all the drama that related. “Nah, I would have kept my mouth shut…I’m not that much of an asshole.” 

He know’s he’s lying. 

Back then he wouldn’t have been able to shut up about getting with you. He would have told his buddies every single detail. From how it feels to be inside you - to how you taste when you come undone on his face. 

“You’re the reason they started calling me LC!” you scoff, unable to help yourself from laughing at the irony. Frankie looks down into his lap and his hands run down his strong thighs in his dark wash jeans. “Alright, alright,” he surrenders. “I might be a bit of an asshole.” 

You giggle and tilt your head, unable to argue with that. “But I’m a hot asshole.” He bites the inside of his lip as those chocolatey brown eyes look at you through his brows. “Plus, I had to do something to get your attention.” His flattery works for a short second, making your stomach flip as you try to suppress it. Considering the amount of alcohol in your system, you know you should be leaving. 

You both burn holes into each other for a couple moments before you stand.

“Well, this has been fun-”

Frankie cuts you off by standing up too, his whole body only centimetres from you. “At least let me get your number?” His eyes are wide and innocent like. You watch his face again, trying to sense any sarcasm but he only waits while holding out his phone to you. You take it from him slowly and hesitantly. The way you bat your lashes has him spinning and he’s not even drunk. After you give his phone back with your number, you say goodbye to your friends and head for the door. 

Unable to stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at Frankie who’s now joined his friends again. He turns to look at you too, so you look away. Hoping it wasn’t too quick for him to notice.

As you’re looking for your keys outside, you hear the door open and close behind you. The noise from the bar flooding through the humidity outside, before it muffles out. “Oh shit,” you hear Frankie say. Before you can even react to him following you outside, you follow his gaze to the tow truck that’s driving your vehicle off the crowed street. “Fuck! That’s my car!” you exclaim, eyes widening as you watch it disappear into the distance. As if the night can’t get any worse, thunder claps above you and it starts to down pour immediately. 

The hard water pelting you and Frankie as you stand in the parking lot. “You must be kidding,” you sigh through the shower. 

“My trucks over here,” Frankie yells through the storm. You don’t hesitate to follow him, trying not to let the rain wash away your buzzed state and make you nervous. You both slide in on either side, shivering and trying to shake the water off. So much rain in so little time has left you both absolutely soaked. “I can drive you home,” he offers, taking off his cap and running his fingers through his hair. He places it back on his head backwards and looks over at you. Your mouth is slightly open from watching him with enough arousal to temporarily deplete your hatred towards him.

It’s quite annoying how attractive he is - the hat making it worse. He pushes his button up long sleeves to his forearms as he waits for your response, his eyes unable to stop themselves from trailing down to your chest again. His cock hardening at the way the wet fabric has molded to your body and drops of rain trickle from the base of your neck, down into your cleavage.  You look even better than you did back in licensing, if that was even possible. 

“Are you sure you’re alright to drive?” you ask, genuinely, with your eyebrows pulled together in concern.

He starts the truck, happy that you haven’t rejected him. 

Although he knows you would have if it weren’t for the rain. “Of course…you did all the drinking tonight.” 

The rain hitting his window drowning out his laughter. You sit with your hands in your lap, one holding the other tightly, to avoid fidgeting. Your eyes watch Frankie from the side, as his one hand grips the steering wheel and the other holds onto the gear shift between you. Even after the car is in drive, he’s still gripping the stick like he knows how it affects you. You watch the veins in his arms as his whole hand tenses around the top of it. His thumb tapping the edge and his other hand choking the wheel. 

He’s making sounds with his mouth through the awkward silence of the entire drive. 

If it weren’t for you telling him directions to get you home; the only sound would be his windshield wipers steadily clearing the rain. You finally pull into the dark parking lot of your apartment complex and Frankie’s strong hand pushes the gear into park. The whole drive you’ve been side eyeing him, uncomfortable with the way he makes you feel for simply just existing. “Well, this was fun?” he asks, giving you a crooked smile as you gently turn to finally look at him. “We should uh,” his eyes roam your face and trail back down your body. Assessing how timidly you sit in his passenger seat, water still pelting the vehicle through his hesitation. 

  He can’t help but lick his lips as his eyes burn into your exposed thighs. 

The goosebumps running along your skin has Frankie wanting to graze the pads of his fingers down your leg. He can already tell how soft your skin must be, making him extremely hungry to feel you. “Do this again sometime…” He mumbles, letting his words trail off as he catches you giving him a look similar to desire. “Fuck it,” he huffs and you both collide over the middle console.

Your lips moving together messily as you inhale into his kiss. His lips feel warm and soft despite everything else being so cold and damp. 

Your upper lip starts to burn from his moustache rubbing so aggressively in the steady rapidness of your movements.

His teeth nip at your bottom lip, pulling on it before soothing it with his tongue that has now slipped into your mouth. You moan as it twists with yours and his lips repeatedly seal to you in starvation.

His big hands hold your face, cradling your cheeks as you grab at the tops of his shoulders, trying to get him as close to you as possible.

You sigh as his lips trail along your cheek and jaw, all the way down your neck. 

The position is incredibly uncomfortable so he stops. 

You whine at the loss of his warm contact but you gasp as he aggressively yanks the middle console back to make more room for you. 

His arm grabbing at it and flexing so hard to yank it back that he grits his teeth. 

The sight of him floods your core with arousal, heat pooling in your lower stomach as your walls flutter around nothing. 

It makes you crave his touch even more.

Before you can even say anything he has his lips on yours again and his large hands hook under your arms to help you crawl over the console and onto his lap. 

The whole motion not as awkward as you thought it would be, due to the fact that his impatience to have you has made him extremely strong. 

He extends his seat farther from the steering wheel and reclines it only a smidge, so skilled as if he’s done this before. 

You don’t question him because it feels too good to keep your lips on his and your body’s pressed together. 

You let out a low moan as his hands grab roughly at your ass and guide your hips to grind against his clothed cock. 

He continues to kiss your neck as you fumble with his shirt buttons, undoing the top three and sitting back to look at him. 

He pants onto your lips as he watches you eye his throat, the base of his neck between his collarbones. 

The pads of your fingertips gently glide against the dip of his skin where you used to watch his sweat bead, wanting to savour the feel. 

You’re about to fuck The Francisco Morales. 

What would T say if she knew?

His eyes darken as he watches the way your lips curve into a smile. His hand coming to your face and pushing your loose hairs behind your ear in the most sincere of gestures, despite how arrogant he’s been all night. 

The simple and soft indication makes you meet his gaze and his lids fall half closed as he looks at your lips, puffy and red from his violent kisses. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this,” he croaks, his thumb grazing against your cheek bone as he holds your face.

Your stomach does more fluttering and this time, you don’t suppress it. 

Only slowly lay your lips to Frankie’s again, hoping to drink up as much of him as possible. 

His hands glide down from your ass to your bare legs as you both tie your tongues in a knot, his palms dragging up your skirt and grazing the waistband of your thong. 

He groans into your mouth as you can’t help but grind your hips onto his again. 

His hands then trail up under your blouse and to your back where it’s clasped together by multiple buttons. 

His hands slip through from the inside of the shirt and he bawls his fists, pulling his wrists apart and ripping the fabric. 

You pull from his lips to look at him, your forehead laying on his with shaky breathes. 

“I hate this fuckin top,” he growls, slipping the fabric off your body and throwing it into his backseat. 

“You shouldn’t be covering all this.” 

His hands glide down from your chest in your bra, to the bare skin of your ribs, as he leans further into his reclined seat. 

Staring hungrily at your upper body as you try to steady your breathing. 

His hands clasp onto the supple skin of your bare hips and he guides you to rock into his hard on that remains locked away in his jeans. 

“Fuckkk,” he groans as your hands rest on his shoulders to steady yourself. 

Your head falls back as your eyes roll. The rocking of your body getting faster and faster. 

Moans falling from your lips repeatedly, as your fingers dig into the warm skin of where his neck meets his shoulders. 

“Gonna’ come just from grindin’?” He huffs out a laugh. 

Your face becomes warm as you look to the side in embarrassment, your hips coming slowly to a stop. 

Frankie immediately regrets his words. 

“No, baby,” he whimpers, making you look back down at him. 

He watches his hands trail all over your body as he looks at you with pleading eyes. 

“I didn’t mean it like that I just,” his hands now coming to his own shirt and peeling it off. 

His tan skin making your lips slightly part and your mouth water. 

“I rather you come on my cock,” he gives you a crooked smile before staring down at where you’re seated. 

He looks back up at you as his hands lift your skirt above your hips to reveal your panties. 

“Oh my god,” he breath hitches, his eyes constantly checking in on you as his fingers hook into the thin fabric covering your mound and pulling it to the side. 

You let out an almost inaudible gasp as the back of his finger grazes against your sensitive heat. 

You whine as he licks his index and middle finger, his eyes still locked on yours before he brings his wet fingers between you two and rubs your bare clit. 

“Ugh-Frankie,” you moan, eyebrows scrunching together as he teases you in slow circles. 

You lift your hips up and lean back to give him a better view and he groans 

“So Fuckin’ wet baby - can you hear it?” He asks, before pushing his fingers inside you. 

The rain has finally slowed, allowing you to hear the sound of your pussy squelching around him. 

Both of you moaning as your walls tighten against his thick digits. 

He speeds up the pace, only producing more of your slick. 

“So needy,” he coos at you, giving you another crooked smile. 

“Acting a little bitchy back there baby-” he grits his teeth as his fingers move faster inside you. 

“But your pussy’s just begging for it - isn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” you sigh, eyes closed and head nodding yes. 

“You want my cock?” 

You nod again, vigorously, absolutely furious that he’s made you wait this long. 

“Take it out then,” he orders, lifting his chin to motion his permission. 

You almost cry out as he continues to finger fuck you hard, as you struggle with his jean zipper. 

Your fingers tremble and he laughs at your inability to accomplish such a simple task. 

“You can do it baby, you’re almost there,” he taunts, his mouth parting as his fingers speed tap against your g-spot. 

Tears pool into your eyes as you inch closer to your release, trying to hold it so you don’t come just from his fingers. 

You finally free his cock and take it into your palm, stroking him fast in hopes he will let up his fingers inside you but he persists, groaning at the feeling of your hand wrapping around his length. 

You try to move his hand away from you, whimpering as he inches you closer and closer. 

“Don’t worry,” he huffs out a pathetic laugh at you. 

“You’re not coming unless I’m inside - I just want you close, first” he breaths. 

Your walls shudder at his words with your legs now trembling, his name repeatedly tumbling out of your mouth in hopes he will just let you finally put it in. 

Your eyes squint shut, unable to hold on much longer when he pulls his hands away, your hips rocking into his stiff cock, letting it tickle your clit as you whine. 

“Now you sit on it,” he tells you, similar to how he used to tell your which buttons to press on the control panel in the helicopter; sure of himself. 

You don’t waste time pushing him inside, more than ready to take every single inch of him. 

“Mmm, so now she listens,” he hisses at the feeling of you covering him with your slick. 

His hands are back on your hips, bottoming himself out completely and groaning. 

“Want it so bad Frankie,” you whine, desperately trying to rock your hips. 

“Yeah?” He huffs, helping you grind against him. 

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back into your head again, at the feeling of him filling you completely. 

He’s enjoying you struggle to move against him. He can’t help but let out breathy laughs every time your legs shake from exhaustion at how bad he’s edged you. 

Your orgasm looms over you again and he notices. 

Your walls squeezing against him, suffocating his cock. 

“You wanna come baby?” 

His voice so low and tantalizing. 

You flatten your lips and close your eyes with your hands on his shoulders, trying to keep a rhythm to help yourself get there. 

Your legs are sore but you keep going, all because of the way he looks under you. 

His cap is still on backwards and his tanned, thick body is glistening with sweat and remnants of the storm. 

The hairline below his belly button rubbing against your clit each time you take him completely. 

You whine as your one leg starts to shake uncontrollably. 

“You need my help?” He asks, devilishly sympathetic. 

“Mhmm,” your eyes pleading with him as you bite your lip. 

“Ask me nicely, first.” He toys with you, a smirk pulling at his lips as your mouth drops open again. 

“Please Frankie, help me!” you beg, loud and serious. 

“Mmm, so hot when you beg for it baby -“ his fingers find your clit again, drawing hard and slow circles. 

“Need to hear you say you need it now…” 

“Ugh - Fuckk - need it - Frankie please!” you cry out in one last effort. You feel as though you will be left edged and unfinished, all due to your leg strength abandoning you. 

If anything, it might be better to be left disappointed. 

If that’s the case you’ll be able to forget about Francisco once and for all. 

Just as rational thoughts begin to cloud your mind, he reels you in. 

His body sitting up straighter with his back off the seat. 

His big hands grab yours, securing your wrists in his one hand pressed at your tailbone. 

His other going to the front of your neck, gripping your jaw to make you look at him. 

He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw as he hammers his length into you so roughly that your eyes spill tears. 

Your eyes try to squint shut but his grip gets tighter around your jaw, to make them open again. 

“Nuh-uh,” he spits. 

“Keep those pretty eyes on me when you come or I won’t let ya’” 

You squeal at his words, as his cock pushes into you one final time before you come undone. 

Regardless of your vision going blurry, your eyes remain focused on Frankie as he too unravels. 

Watching his face as he comes inside you is something you never thought you needed to see. 

Not realizing it would slowly become the only image taunting you for weeks to come. 

You needed him again.

______  Taglist for Anything Written: @bimbofairynextdoor @fallenfairydust @pedritos-pumpkin @queerponcho @milla-frenchy @leeeesahhh @beboldbebravethings @girlbossnancy @sarah-10 @jaded222 @ievutebebe @spookyxsam @aestheticangel612 @sagggy @lordvelma @fatimaisabelpascal @cordycepcowboy @fhatbhabie @caatheeriinee07 @harriedandharassed @manuymesut @boobsbeesbongos @theclassicvinyldragon @drewharrisonwriter @pedroholicx @iheartdilfs01 @pastelnap @mswarriorbabe80 @meanderingcaptainswanmusings @misspascaliverse @pedrosaidsheispunk @2pacacabra @littlevenicebitch69 @cowboychickenlittle @wayfaringhoax

If you’re interested in f*ckin’ Frankie in the club while drunk on Don Julio -> click here

[justanother-nerds-blog]

@morning-star-joy i don’t think you understand how much i love this. Honestly it’s quickly becoming my favorite Joel fic. There’s just something about the grumpy x sunshine dynamic. It’s one of my favorite tropes to read EVER but your writing makes it a million times better. I’ve said it before but i can’t stress this enough because i love it SO MUCH! It’s really early on but i’m already so in love. Please i adored reading Joel’s pov so much, it was hilarious 😂😂😂😂😂 he’s so bewildered by her, i can’t! I love that he insists on being an asshole and she just insists on not taking his bullshit and being patient and sweet. I can relate to this reader so much (apart from the end because who can’t relate to that right?). I particularly love flowers and being a teacher kinda teaches you that resilience of keeping it together and insisting on repaying whatever kind of attitude with understanding and kind words - it usually works!

Somehow the way you’re writing Joel is funny but not out of character and i have NO idea how you’re doing that because i particularly think it’s a very difficult task. But i just laughed so many times while reading this chapter. It’s so cute this phase where he likes her so much, but doesn’t want to like even more lol

I loved it so much when he said he hadn’t seen Ellie smiling so much since their winter from hell and this is why your writing is so brilliant! That’s so sensitive and deep and funny and sad at the same time. How????? 🥲

This was precious and please you need to give us Joel’s pov of catching her in the act because that’s gonna be a whole comedy on its own. Like i can just imagine him being completely flabbergasted! I simply must have it!!! And poor readerrrrr that’s kinda mortifying but i can’t wait for their next encounter 😍

I figure this will get angsty at some point cause it’s JOEL but i’m enjoying the cute and sweet romcom part so much 🥹

THANK YOU I LOVE THIS

but I wake up before we do it (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post!Outbreak Neighbors

Summary: You're Joel's new next-door neighbor when he settles in Jackson, and you're determined to add some positivity to the grumpy old man's life. Joel, however, is equally determined to keep you out of his life. Especially when you start to make him feel something he knows he shouldn't. Little does he know, you feel it too.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit Sexual Content Joel is Horny, Reader is also Horny (f masturbation, Joel hears you), Soft!Reader, Joel is kinda an asshole, Grumpy x Sunshine, Age Gap (Reader late 20s, Joel 56), Innocence Kink vibes, Language

Wordcount: 2.9k

Part I || Part II || Part III || Masterlist (More Parts Coming Soon)

Joel Miller masterlist

Fucking hell, you were far too good to ever be true.

It was all Joel could think about, the pervasive fact that lingered in the back of his mind whenever he walked by that cup of water sitting next to the sink on his kitchen counter, with the long stems of the daffodils you had given him bunched up inside of it, the blooming flowers drooping awkwardly from the far too small container.

He had first dropped the flowers on top of the counter, dangerously close to the trash can beside it. Honestly, Joel had been aiming for it, but his hand had twitched at the last moment, the bright yellow flowers falling from his calloused fingers to land on the counter instead.

Another day passed before he stood in his kitchen in the morning, cup of coffee in hand, staring at those flowers laying precariously on the edge of the counter, hating how they mocked him before pushing himself up with a sigh.

Joel heard your voice then, being so bold as to tease him, something he hadn’t thought somebody as soft-spoken and sweet as you would be capable of: Traditionally, you put them in a vase. Fill it with water.

He didn’t have a vase, though. And he wasn’t about to put in the effort to find one just because you had mentioned it.

Still, he grabbed a glass from his cabinet, flipping on the faucet to fill it with water as he glared vehemently at the daffodils, grabbing them roughly to then unceremoniously shove them inside the glass, leaving them right next to the sink without giving it another thought that it didn’t deserve.

That was a lie, though.

Every time he passed through his kitchen, he saw them.

And he thought of you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

What made the illness you had plagued his mind with even worse was the bright smile on Ellie’s face when he had passed along your daisies for her. It was happiness he hadn’t seen on the girl’s features since the first time they had visited Jackson, before the winter of fucking hell, when he had almost died, and a part of Ellie did.

Joel was even more irritated that he was still thinking about you, even now, walking back home from a long patrol that had left his body aching, in desperate need of a hot shower that he would gladly praise any fucking higher power that may exist for being possible in Jackson.

He looked down at the cuts on his hands, the dirt caked under his fingernails from where he had fallen from his horse today when it had gotten spooked by the appearance of a Clicker. Luckily he was still alive, thanks to Tommy’s quick thinking and quicker shooting, but the situation had been far too close for comfort for Joel to forget about it so quickly.

Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit.

With a sigh, he rolled his shoulder back, wincing at an ache that was beginning to throb there as he pulled his pack off to carry it in his hand instead. Joel focused on the weight of it in his hand, trying to ignore how his dirty fingers reminded him of yours, covered in soil when you had shown up on his doorstep with the flowers.

It was infuriating, not to mention incredibly disrespectful to your kindness (even though he was at a complete loss for why or how that kindness existed), that the dirt that had been marking what looked to be your incredibly soft skin and staining your immaculate, weathered sundress, had sent blood rushing right to his cock when he couldn’t stop thinking about it later that night.

Joel had forgone Jackson’s heavenly gift of hot water for a frigid cold one before bed, palms placed firmly against the wall of the shower as his head bent under the stream of freezing water, taking deep, steady breaths in through his nose and out through clenched teeth as he tried to will his growing erection to go the fuck away.

Even when he had woken up from a dream about you—one that taunted him with impossible images of that sundress on his bedroom floor and streaks of dirt left across your naked flesh from his own fingers—Joel had resisted the incredibly strong urge to palm his throbbing cock where it strained against his boxers, stumbling out of bed to head into the bathroom for another cold shower.

He did his best to avoid you once the lust to have you really started, opting to take the side gate in his backyard to get in and out of the house, cutting through the greenhouses to avoid running into you on the other side of his house if he left out the front door.

Jesus Christ, Joel didn’t even fucking know you.

But he knew that if he did, there would be a catch. Some hidden cruelty underneath those frustratingly warm smiles you sent him both times you showed up outside his door.

There was no way you would have survived this long otherwise.

Lifting his head, Joel let out a small sigh of relief as he turned onto the street where his home sat, ready to indulge in a hot shower for the first time in weeks, before the sound of light, musical laughter filled his ears, coming from the first house in front of him.

Fuck.

He saw you instantly, arms crossed as you leaned them on top of a fence, smiling kindly at an older woman on the other side that was talking to you with a small grin that spoke of undeniable fondness for you.

“I don’t know how you do it,” the older woman was saying, huffing out a playful sigh that drew another soft laugh from your lips, and Joel found his feet frozen to the spot at the end of the street as he watched the interaction. “It just never tastes the same when I make it!”

“Well, Ms. Garcia,” you said slowly, flashing a teasing grin that made Joel stiffen before you asked, “Are you absolutely sure you’re putting sugar in, and not salt?”

“Oh, you,” the woman sighed, wagging a finger at you, causing you to giggle in a way that made Joel’s grip tighten on his backpack. “You’re probably right, though. I’m terrible with this kind of thing.”

“I’ll just have to bring some more by for you,” you replied, still smiling brightly, a smile that didn’t fade even as Ms. Garcia’s gaze flickered over your shoulder, landing on Joel.

Joel frowned at the same moment the older woman did, leaning away from her fence slightly as her brows furrowed, bright countenance disappearing as he wondered how quickly he could walk to get by you without drawing your attention.

He already knew it was far too late to avoid you now, though, especially as you turned to follow Ms. Garcia’s sightline, your eyes finding him standing there, blatantly staring at you while you talked to your—and his, he supposed—neighbor.

To Joel’s complete and utter confusion, you straightened up with an even brighter smile, giving a friendly wave the moment you saw him.

“Hi there, Mr. Miller!” you called, still waving before your hand dropped, and you turned back to Ms. Garcia.

Joel was almost foolish enough to believe that that would be all you said to him, but as he finally began to walk down the street, he had to bite back a sigh when you stepped away from the fence to walk beside him.

He knew that his growing irritation at the situation he was now in was probably an over exaggeration. He knew that you had to walk home, just like he did.

But did you have to walk home with him?

“So,” you started, and Joel held back a sigh.

Did you have to talk to him?

“Did you just get back from patrol?” you ended up asking, and Joel glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing that you were wearing jeans today instead of the usual sundress, the pants paired with a lightweight, oversized sweater that hid your curves.

Good. He didn’t need his thoughts distracted right now, not when he was trying to get back inside his house as quickly as possible.

Because he really wanted that hot shower today.

“Is it that obvious?” he found himself drawling, the words holding no small amount of sarcasm.

Joel actually felt a small twinge of guilt as he noticed you shift awkwardly beside him, but you brushed off his rudeness with another laugh, the soft sound a bit less joyous, and a bit more forced this time.

In the back of his mind, Joel had the terrible thought that, maybe if he pushed you far enough, you wouldn’t be so kind as you seemed.

“Just a little,” you found your voice again, and Joel’s grip on his pack tightened, shifting the weight of it into his other hand as he felt his arm begin to ache from holding it.

At the movement, your eyes caught on his hand, and he noticed you swallow hard as you watched his fingers dangle by his side and Jesus Christ, no, you couldn’t feel this too—but then you were glancing back up into his face, your brows furrowed in concern.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“What?” Joel asked, not even realizing his face had turned fully towards you now until he looked down at his hand at the question and back up at you. “No. ‘M fine.”

“Uh-huh,” you said slowly, glancing over his face again, like you were calling bullshit and searching for the truth.

He thought that when his lips pressed into a firm line and he stared back at you, daring you to say something about it, you would back down.

You didn’t.

“I have some first aid,” you said quietly, gesturing towards your house as they began to near it, and Joel was already shaking his head, instincts telling him he needed to stay far, far away from ever entering your house, even as you continued, “I can help you—”

“No,” he said firmly, and your jaw snapped shut, brows furrowed as he watched your eyes spark with the briefest hint of frustration and ah, there it was. A crack in the perfection that was you. “I told you, I’m fine.”

A sick, twisted part of Joel wanted you to fight him on it, but your brows smoothed back out instead, and you gave a nod as your face melted into one of understanding.

Understanding, of all things.

What fucking bunker had they been keeping something sweet like you in for decades to preserve you in all this unimaginable kindness?

“Of course, you probably have your own,” you brushed off with another laugh, the sound a bit easier this time, eyes so warm that he was looking back down at your sweater again, wondering if your skin was just as warm underneath that—

Joel’s head whipped around, staring in front of him as you came to a stop at the pathway that led up to your front door.

“Well—”

But Joel kept moving, heading up his own pathway, not even looking back at you as you loitered at the edge of your property, refusing to give into the first time he had felt any sort of temptation to look back at you as he closed the door behind him.

God fucking dammit, he was having another cold shower tonight.

The cooler spring day began to warm up towards the end, so much so that you had to open up your bedroom window to let a gentle breeze in before bed.

You settled under your faded floral sheets with a book, opening it up to the homemade bookmark you had left to keep your spot, fingernail trailing across the words until you picked up exactly where you left off.

Unfortunately, after only a few pages, you found yourself reading the same words over and over as you thought back to your interaction with Joel that had occurred hours ago.

When you read the words “he said” at least 5 times before you lost track, you put your bookmark back between the pages, snapping the silly little romance novel closed and tossing it to the side with a groan.

Reaching your hands up, you pressed your palms against your eyes, willing the image of Joel Miller to disappear from where it had been haunting you.

It was just the latest of the very few, very short times you had seen him, but it had left you just as intrigued, just as unsatisfied as the ones before.

You shook your hand, letting your hands drop to your sides, placing your palms flat against the top blanket as you tried your best to stop thinking about him.

Part of you couldn’t help but feel a little worried, still rehashing how he had brushed you aside when you asked if he was hurt.

But Joel was a grown man—very much so, you thought as images of the silver in his hair flashed through your mind, the salt and pepper facial hair covering a weathered face and no, no, enough of that—and he had to know how to take care of himself. Especially in this kind of world you had all been in for the last twenty years.

Still, you couldn’t help but think of the cuts that had littered his hand, the dirt and a bit of blood caked under his fingernails when he had shifted his backpack to his other hand.

You also couldn’t help but dwell on the length of those fingers, how thick they were, as they hung by his side, inches away from the fabric of your jeans as you walked beside him.

No, you thought firmly to yourself, pressing your palms even harder against the blankets, willing yourself to keep them at your sides. No, you were not thinking of Joel Miller, your grumpy, standoffish neighbor who probably despised you, that way.

Then you glanced back over the book you had abandoned, taking in the scantily dressed woman draped across the broad, firm chest of a ruggedly handsome man across the cover, his strong arms wrapped around her and oh, no.

Your fingers began to slip up the blanket, biting your lip hard as you stared at the cover of that book, remembering the smutty words of the last chapter and oh no.

With a shaky exhale, you reached one hand out for the book, picking it up and quickly flipping backwards in the pages to that scene. You desperately reread the words, soaking in the description of a thick, throbbing cock sinking into the moaning, mewling heroine, over and over, your free hand slipping under your blanket to find the band of your shorts, moving underneath to fiddle with the hemline of your panties.

You shouldn’t.

You really, really shouldn’t.

In fact, you convinced yourself you weren’t. You told yourself you were purely basing this little self-love moment of much-needed release off the smutty book.

But when your eyes fixed on that description, your fingers sliding underneath your panties to glide along your folds, a soft moan escaping your lips as you collected your wetness to begin to slowly rub your clit—you weren’t seeing the way that man was described.

In your mind you saw dark curls instead of the short blond hair that was written; brown eyes instead of blue, holding a severe stare instead of a loving gaze; tan skin instead of pale, weathered and scarred, maybe? Did he have scars on his body, like the one on his temple, and the one on his nose?

Your hips lifted into your hand as your head tilted back, moaning again as you circled your clit faster, lifting the book above your head so you could focus on that one sentence—he thrusted into her quickly, his nails digging into the soft skin of her thighs, drawing wanton moans from her plush lips—and you moaned again, even louder, eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself hurtling towards that edge, so close that if you just changed the angle of your fingers a little bit, you would—

The sound of a door slamming shut made your eyes snap open, a gasp pulled from your lungs as the book tumbled from your hands to land on the bed at the same moment your other hand snapped away from your throbbing clit.

You grabbed the sheets, pulling them closer to yourself as you glanced around wildly, heart pounding in your chest at the thought of being caught.

But who would catch you?

You were very much alone, having nobody to keep you company in your little house.

Then a breeze brushed past your face, and your eyes lifted towards your bedroom window and, oh.

Oh, no.

You pushed yourself from your bed quickly, too quickly, legs tangling in the sheets and causing you to fall to your forearms.

With a groan, you detangled yourself, rising to hurry towards the window that was still very much open.

For a moment, you glanced through it, noting the open window on the second story right above your own window.

Jesus.

Had he—

A blush warmed your cheeks, and you slammed your window shut, grabbing the curtains to pull them over it, feeling a surge of overwhelming embarrassment as you hurried back to hide under your sheets.

Yeah, you were never leaving your house again.

[justanother-nerds-blog]

THE ERAS TOUR - Pittsburgh, PA Night 2

[justanother-nerds-blog]

EXCUSE ME HI I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY 🙋‍♀️ I can’t wait to see so many of you on The Eras Tour next year at these new international dates! Visit TaylorSwift.com/tour for more information on your registrations, pre-sales and on-sales!!

[justanother-nerds-blog]

I'll plant a garden in the yard (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post!Outbreak Neighbors

Summary: You're Joel's new next-door neighbor when he settles in Jackson, and you're determined to add some positivity to the grumpy old man's life. This time, instead of baked goods, you show up on his doorstep with another housewarming gift. (based off this request)

Tags/Warnings: Mild language, Joel is unintentionally an asshole, Soft!Reader, age gap (Reader late 20s, Joel 56), innocence kink (kind of? she's not exactly innocent but the vibes are there), things get a little bit kinky/horny if you squint but nothing explicit

Wordcount: 1.9k

Part I || Part II || Part III (Coming Soon)

Joel Miller was, for lack of a better term, an asshole.

Look, you didn’t like calling him that. And you would never dare to say it aloud, but when he took the neighborly welcome in the form of freshly baked banana bread you had spent an afternoon making only to shut his door in your face right afterwards—yup, total asshole.

Still, you had squared your shoulders back, not letting the slight affect you as you introduced yourself through the closed door anyway, before spinning on your heel and making the very short journey back to your own house right next-door.

You knew right from that moment that being Joel’s neighbor would be a very interesting, very peculiar, and maybe sometimes very aggravating circumstance.

The man triggered some smidgen of curiosity from you, though, you had to admit. There was something about the severe set of his brow, the deep-set wrinkles on a hardened face, that caught your attention. Not to mention a frown that you hadn’t seen alleviated for a moment just during the short few minutes you had spoken to him.

Joel hadn’t said a word back, instead letting you ramble on and on, until he roughly muttered thanks for the baked sweets, taking the plate from you to hold in large hands before the infamous door shutting incident.

Large hands. Surely, they would completely envelop yours.

And would they be rough? Callused? Clearly he had lived a hard life, and most likely a long life at that. You were friends with Tommy, and knew how much older he was, and if his brother was even older…

Clearing your throat, you shook your head sharply, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead to get rid of the sweat accumulating there. You glanced from the soil covering your fingers to the freshly planted flowers in front of you, grinning to yourself as you leaned back on your heels to get a better view of the big picture, satisfied with how the new addition to your little garden looked.

When you rose to your feet, it was with a small bunch of bright, freshly bloomed flowers in your hand, clutched tightly as you collected your shears and walked to your back porch.

Your backyard’s small garden has been your pride and joy since arriving in Jackson. Upon settling into your home that was much smaller than the one next-door, you had started the slow process of planting whatever seeds you could find or trade for, taking the time to care for the flowers that eventually grew until they flourished over months of hard work.

Now, you were deciding to share a little bit of that hard work to hopefully brighten the day of your gloomy next-door neighbor.

You hadn’t seen Joel much since he moved in. In fact, you weren’t sure if the man hardly ever left his house.

Ellie, on the other hand, you had caught a few times as she made the journey down from their front porch to the main street.

“Oh, hey!” she had called to you the first time you saw her as you sat on your porch one afternoon, returning your friendly wave with one of her own. “You’re the one who made the banana bread!”

“Yes, that was me,” you smiled, amused as to how you had been deemed the baker by the girl before she left, though not without her giving you a thanks that was considerably more genuine than the stoic man who had received the baked goods from you.

You huffed quietly, shaking any hint of bitterness from your mind. No, you didn’t want to think of him, or anybody, in that way. This world was too cruel, and staying alive was too rare and beautiful a thing to taint it by carrying that kind of hatred around in your heart.

So you dropped your shears off on the small table for gardening supplies on your back porch, before sliding open the back door and heading inside. You hurried through your house, letting the front door shut behind you without so much as a glance back before you were walking down your front path and up to Joel’s.

The stems of the flowers were still clutched tightly in your hands, and you distracted yourself by looking down at each one, noting the colors and thinking over each type as you waited for an answer to your knocking.

When there was none, you frowned, leaning forward on your tiptoes to knock again, a bit louder this time, as opposed to your gentle few taps on the wood that you had given the first time.

Shifting on your feet, you glanced down at your sandals, only then noticing how the bottom of the faded, pale blue sundress you wore today had dirt smudged on the hem.

“Oh,” you murmured to yourself, frowning as you reached a hand down to try and brush it off, only for your eyes to widen when you saw your fingers were covered in soil. “Oh, shoot.”

You glanced around before pivoting to look behind you, wondering if you could make a quick getaway back home to clean yourself up, when the door finally swung open.

Spinning back around, you looked up at the surly man holding it open, staring at you with that same crease in his brow as you stood there, holding a small assortment of flowers in very dirty hands, with an equally dirty sundress on his front porch.

“Um—” you coughed, clearing your throat as you straightened with the intensity of that gaze on you.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if Joel intended to look at people that way—like he was not only sizing them up, but sending a message on how quickly he could take you down if needed—before gesturing lamely with the flowers in your hands.

“These are for you,” you said quietly, trying to find your footing, but you were out of your element with a considerably unkempt appearance and that cold, analytical gaze focused on you.

So you looked away, taking a quiet, deep breath to compose yourself, finding it much easier to speak when you weren’t having to make such direct eye contact with Joel. “I thought it could help brighten you up a bit.”

Or, you thought it was easier to talk.

When you realized what you had said, your eyes widened, snapping back to his to see his face was still mostly blank, but his eyebrows slowly unfurled enough so he could arch one as you stammered, “That is, uh—I didn’t mean to say you weren’t bright. I just—your house, I mean. Brighten up your house.”

You winced internally, shifting again on your feet, and Joel’s gaze shifted, quickly scanning down your body before they snapped back up to your face.

Something about that quick once-over made you hold the flowers even tighter, feeling your cheeks heat in what had to have been embarrassment as he must have noticed how dirty you were when you showed up at his house.

“Sorry,” you murmured, holding back the subconscious need to brush out your dress when you remembered how dirty your fingers were. “I just got finished in the garden. Forgot to wash up.”

Joel shrugged then, a small movement of his shoulders, before you heard him speak for the second time since you had met him, “A little dirt never hurt nobody.”

Your cheeks were heated in embarrassment. Only embarrassment. Yes, you were just embarrassed and there was absolutely nothing else that you were feeling at that comment, nope. Nothing at all.

Shoving the flowers forward, you held them out for Joel to take, watching as he didn’t even flinch at the dirt that dropped from your fingers as he slowly took them, even as he was careful to avoid touching your hand when it retreated from the stems.

“Oh,” you perked up, leaning forward a bit to point towards a couple of the flowers, ignoring the way Joel leaned away at your movement, just like he did with the banana bread, as you said cheerfully, “Those ones are for Ellie. The yellow daisies.”

Joel stared at your face for a moment, his mouth notably set into a firm line—not a frown, you noticed—even as you smiled brightly up at him, before he slowly looked down at the daisies in his hand. “Okay.”

“They’re for cheer and friendship,” you continued, unable to hold back your enthusiasm as you spoke of the flowers, even though Joel had not asked, and most certainly didn’t care as he stared at you blankly again. “To help her settle in Jackson.”

“Flowers are going to help her settle in Jackson?” Joel said plainly, almost sarcastically, and you stiffened for a moment before smiling again.

“Well, a gesture of goodwill can help, I think,” you replied easily, your tone as light and genuine as you meant the sentiment to be, and Joel’s gaze flashed away from you at the sound of it.

“What about these?” he asked, holding the flowers almost as awkwardly as the way you had offered them, gesturing to the ones next to the daisies with his other hand.

“Oh, those are for you,” you replied, pointing to them yourself as you added, “Daffodils.”

“Okay.”

You both were silent for a moment, staring down at the collection of bright yellow flowers, and you watched as Joel almost seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, “What do I do with them?”

“Well,” you started, your lips titling up in a half-smile as you decided to take a risk and tease, “Traditionally, you put them in a vase. Fill it with water.”

“Oh, funny,” Joel muttered, and you bit your lip, worried that you may have crossed a line too soon.

But when you looked closer at his face, you swear it didn’t look quite as severe as before, and a giggle slipped past your lips as you realized he may have been teasing back, in his own way, before you could try and hold back the sound.

Joel glanced up at you at the sound, staring at your face before glancing down at your hands where they had subconsciously found the edge of your dress to hold onto it, and he quickly shifted away, stepping back into the safety of his home as his other hand found the door.

“Thanks,” he mumbled again, his voice just as coarse—and deep, and rough, and masculine, with that distinct Southern accent hanging from the word—as the first time he had thanked you for a gesture of neighborly goodwill, before he closed that door right in your face yet again.

A small sigh was pulled from your lungs, your shoulders deflating as you let yourself glare in momentary frustration at the barrier for just a split second before brightening up again.

“You’re welcome, Joel!” you called, turning away before pausing, considering before adding loudly, “Er, Mr. Miller? Do you prefer that? Or is Joel fine?”

There was no reply, but you hadn’t heard his footsteps carry away from the door yet either.

So you waited, perhaps for too long a moment, shifting awkwardly in your sandals and dirty dress before saying cheerfully, “Alright—Mr. Miller, then! Until you tell me otherwise, at least. Enjoy your flowers!”

You spun, your dress flaring around you as you skipped down the steps and bounced down the pathway, feeling at least somewhat successful that you had gotten him to take the flowers.

One could only hope that he actually put them in a vase and didn’t throw them away at the first chance.

Lord knew he could use that extra brightness.

[justanother-nerds-blog]

but you know the killer doesn't understand (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Post!Outbreak Neighbors Joel x F!Reader

Summary: When Joel returns to Jackson and meets you, his new neighbor, he knows right away he's fucked.

Request: Reader being Joel’s neighbor and reader is super kind and and nice to everyone (especially Joel and Ellie) and having this lightness and softness about her and they’re kinda in love with each other but Joel won’t admit and allow himself to act on it (full request)

Tags/Warnings: Language, Joel is bad at feelings, innocence kink. Series will include angst, mutual pining and TW mentions of previous miscarriage

Wordcount: 784

A/N: There will be multiple parts to this! Ty lovely anon for sharing your beautiful idea and entrusting it to me <3

Part I || Part II (coming soon)

Joel Miller was not a kind man.

Any kindness he ever had lingering in his soul had been eradicated over twenty years spent doing whatever it took to survive after the end of the world.

It was just the way that it was. After so much loss and suffering, so much blood spilled from his own body and from those that he had not only killed, but tortured, in cruel, unimaginable ways—there was no way that he could still manage to be soft. 

Hell, or anybody else, for that matter. Joel was of the firm belief that nobody who had made it this far didn’t have blood on their hands. In fact, it was just about the only thing he still believed in: the indisputable fact that every person in this fucked up world was just as fucked up as it was.

That was, until he met you.

When he and Ellie returned to Jackson, and she moved into the garage on his property as he settled into that large house that almost unnerved him with how quiet and peaceful it was, he was content to be a recluse in the settlement. Joel would do what he could to protect the town—he owed Tommy that much—but he wouldn’t go out of his way to do something as mundanely trivial as make friends.

And then you showed up on his doorstep a few days after he arrived, standing there in a faded sundress with a plate of something that smelled so tempting in some kind of peace offering he would have expected before the apocalypse, but not ever since society had crumbled down.

There was a soft smile on your face, a warmth in your eyes that had Joel completely taken aback and, fuck, he already knew he was in for it just then, before you even opened your mouth.

“You’re Joel, right?” you said in a voice as soft as that smile, kindness oozing from every word in a way that almost made Joel start to feel uncomfortable because what was the catch?

“Joel Miller?" you tried to clarify by adding his last name when he didn't answer, but you were seemingly unfazed when he still didn't say anything as you continued, "I’m friends with Maria and Tommy. They mentioned you had just moved in.”

You leaned back then, turning your face so you could point at the house next door, but Joel was too busy glancing over your face, searching for a sign of weariness, of deceit, trying to convince himself you were just as tired and mean and fucked up as the rest of them.

“I live next door,” you explained with the pointing before your hand went back to the plate, and you held it out further, making Joel lean back slightly. “I just wanted to come by and say, well…welcome to Jackson!”

You smiled again, almost a grin now, a cheerfulness that made Joel stiffen as his chest tightened with an unfamiliar feeling. It was one that had once been well-known in another life, before he had lost everything. 

A feeling he had never wanted to experience again.

So he took the plate, muttering a gruff thanks as his Southern upbringing—as far away as it was now—wouldn’t let him do otherwise, even as he quickly shut the door right in your face directly afterwards.

He had expected you to linger for a moment, probably taken aback by his abrupt rudeness at your gesture of neighborly peace, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear your feet retreat from the other side of the door right away.

What did shock him was when you called out your name, introducing yourself even through the wall of the too damn big, too damn peaceful and quiet house before your footsteps finally did click across the porch as you left.

Click? Had you been wearing heels? He couldn’t remember, but he felt a surge of something and, fuck.

Joel said nothing as he crossed through the house to the back door, heading to Ellie’s small abode to drop off what he realized from the annoyingly delicious smell was banana bread, so the girl could eat it.

She had accepted it with enthusiasm, asking him where he got it, a scarred eyebrow arching with interest as Joel merely mumbled an annoyed “neighbor” before leaving.

When preparing for bed that night, all Joel could think of was the click of a heel, the scent of freshly baked sweets, a delicate finger pointing towards a house right next door, the flare of a pale yellow dress as you turned and fuck.

Fuck, this was bad.

You were bad.

Because you were good, and he was bad.

Fuck.

[justanother-nerds-blog]

the darkest little paradise (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Request: “don’t blame me, love made me crazy if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right” and “oh lord save me my drug is my baby, I’ll be using for the rest of my life”

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit Smut (unprotected p in v sex, oral m receiving, masturbation m and f) and Dark Themes including Canon-Typical Violence (Murder, Torture, Blood) related to Hunters, Obsession/Obsessive Love that's quite borderline unhealthy, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Dark!Joel? (but he's still a bit sweet because I can't help it), Unhinged!Reader (she's lowkey crazy ngl), Implied Age Gap

Wordcount: 2121

A/N: Another one for the Taylor Swift inspired oneshot collection! This is definitely different from anything I've written before but it was fun to dive into a darker relationship with Joel. Ty to anon who kindly requested Don't Blame Me.

Joel x Reader Taylor-inspired masterlist

It may just be possible that, after months of aching and pining and wanting, you had a bit of an obsession with Joel Miller.

Having a lover was not a foreign concept to you. In fact, you’ve had many of them; one after another, stringing them along until you became bored, and you’d leave them begging for more as you moved on to the next.

You had a taste for older men in particular, enjoying how you could wrap a world-weary soul around your finger and make them beg. 

So when you first saw Joel upon his permanent arrival to Jackson—the fine lines on a weathered face, streaks of gray in those dark curls, the heavy set of burdens from a long life on his tired shoulders—you knew you had to have a taste of him.

It may also be possible that, after months of watching you wide-eyed and flushed as you tried to sneak glances at him from across the room, Joel Miller may be a little obsessed with you too.

From the very first moment you greeted him with a deceivingly shy smile that hid a tantalizing coyness, he had felt a desire to have you. His eyes had narrowed in on your soft mouth, wondering all the sounds he could draw from it, and that fleeting desire slowly kindled into a burning need as time went on.

Days and months were spent without you in his arms or, more importantly, in his bed. Always dancing out of his reach if he just barely got close enough, shooting him that God damned knowing smile—like you knew exactly what he was thinking, knew exactly what he wanted to do to you—whenever he’d see you around town.

Sometimes you’d even be so bold as to send him a wink as you drank with another man late at night in one of the few bars, allowing some other fucking man to eventually take you home instead of letting Joel treat you right.

He would fuck you until you were beyond satisfied if you just let him. Fuck you hard and fast, or slow and sweet if that was how you preferred it (but he knew from the way you bit your lip as you snuck glances over his body that it wasn’t). 

Fuck you until your throat was hoarse from screaming his name, until you couldn’t walk for days afterwards. Until he ruined you for anybody else, making it impossible for you to take any dick other than his, or think of anybody else when you touched yourself at night without him.

Joel knew it. 

You knew it.

But you didn’t let him, even with that look of unabashed lust in your knowing eyes every time you saw him.

God, you were driving him fucking crazy.

Joel quickly lost track of how many times he had to take matters into his own hands, fucking up into his hand with your face held clearly in his mind, imagining how truly soft those lips would feel wrapped around his cock until he was cumming hard with your name groaned on a hot breath against his pillow.

There was no way for him to know how you already spent your nights in your own bed in a similar fashion, with your hand between your legs to bring yourself to release again and again while picturing how the scratch of that salt and pepper facial hair would feel on the inside of your thighs while he made you cum with his mouth instead of you having to use your own fingers.

Then one day, when Joel showed up unannounced on your back doorstep long after the sun had set—hair a mess and pupils blown wide with desire similar to yours that you had just been trying to satisfy that night with your hand down your panties, alone in bed once again—the tension finally snapped.

“Just one time,” Joel had whispered huskily against your lips after you had stumbled lip-locked to your couch, his hands finding your waist to tug you into his lap. Your bodies pressed together as you moaned into his mouth, letting him explore yours with his tongue, tasting you with his own quiet groan. “Just once.”

“Mhm,” you had murmured deliriously, head tilting back as his lips moved down your neck, teeth scraping and tongue caressing every sensitive spot he could find while you began to grind into him. “Once. Just once.”

You should’ve known better.

Once would never have been enough, not after you had finally gotten a taste of Joel Miller. 

Not after watching the color of his eyes deepen with a never-ending desire that you knew wouldn’t be quenched with just one time.

Not after he finally fucked you for the first time, both of you losing yourselves in the heady dance of giving and receiving pleasure, and he really did ruin you completely, dissolving you into a trembling, whimpering mess that knew no name other than his own.

Not after he had felt you in his arms, holding you tightly against him as he bucked up into you, again and again until you came apart in his strong embrace, and he followed right after you, gasping your name against your ear as he filled you up with his cum. 

It was a blissful descent into madness that you both fell down into together.

Because as it turned out, this mutual obsession didn’t stop as far as needing each other’s bodies.

The more you ended up in Joel’s bed, the more you wanted him. 

You saw that same old, world-weary soul that you had held in your hands countless times from men you couldn’t remember, but for some godforsaken reason, you wanted to treasure Joel’s.

Every time he came with your name on his lips, over and over, and he sank onto the mattress with you afterwards, you wanted to pull him close. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, murmur sweet nothings into his ear as you burrowed yourself into him until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

And when you went out for a night of casual drinks that turned into harmless, habitual flirting with a man you would never truly give the time of day, only for Joel to punch that man square in the jaw—and the nose, and the eye, and the jaw again—when they dared to touch you, you knew that he felt the same.

There was probably something deeply wrong with you, something sick and twisted as you found yourself more attracted to Joel than ever before when you saw his knuckles bloody for you.

That night, after tending to those knuckles with a bandage and a soft kiss pressed to each one, followed by your lips wrapping around his cock to suck him off until he was coming down the back of your throat as he murmured prayers to nobody other than you, you were suddenly blessed with the divinely sinful knowledge that you would not only die for this man, but fucking kill for him.

You had heard the whispers of him since he arrived in town—you knew Joel Miller was a dangerous man. That he lacked mercy, or any real ounce of kindness in his body.

But when you held him at night, stroking his skin with your face pressed against his back as you heard him murmur mindlessly from the horrors that still haunted his mind, you knew that you had been graced with the opportunity to protect this man who had spent his entire life protecting others.

Unfortunately for Joel, he had not heard the whispered rumors that circulated around you. He didn’t know of your long, sordid history with a group of Hunters, didn’t know how you tortured and killed your way through the apocalypse until you eventually hung up your array of knives and guns when you arrived in Jackson—except for when they could be used for the settlement’s benefit, of course.

He didn’t know how your peace of mind balanced on a razor thin line, your sanity a dubious matter that only became more obscure, more dangerous once you had him in your arms.

But upon his realization of your duality—the sweet smile and loving words whispered to him in the dead of night, contrasted to the similar serene smile you had given when you stuck a knife in a Raider’s throat and let them bleed to death at your feet—Joel found himself completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

“Mine,” Joel growled into your ear that night, your wrists clasped in his large hand as he bent you over the side of your bed and fucked into you from behind. 

He stared at your smaller hands held helplessly in his, the ones he had seen mercilessly delivering death left and right earlier that day, and groaned as he listened to the sounds of your moans, so loud you had to be keeping up the whole street.

“That’s right, love, tell them my name,” Joel grunted as he bucked into you, making you beg for more, more, always more of him while he continued to order you, “Tell them who makes you cum. Tell them who you belong to.”

“Joel!” you gasped, cheek pressed against the blanket as your legs began to tremble, his other hand rubbing your clit at a fast, steady pace until you were coming apart completely, gloriously, all because of him.

After he would cum inside of you, he’d leave you to settle on the bed as he retrieved a warm washcloth to clean you up diligently before pulling you onto his chest with soft murmurs of “was that too much?” and whispered promises of “love you, always love you,” an oath that you would return with the sweet press of your lips to his, over and over.

Even then, Joel hadn’t realized how truly far gone over the edge he was for you until you were taken from him.

A run-in with some hunters on a patrol, resulting in you being taken captive, had set Joel off in a way nobody could have expected, even him. He was out of Jackson’s gates before hearing a complete appraisal of the situation, armed with his rifle and revolver even though he needed nothing more than his bare hands to do what needed to be done.

His vision was so red he couldn’t even see the faces of each victim that fell to one of his bullets or his arm around their neck. The entire time he fought to get to you, the only thing he could think, the only thing he could hear through the blood rushing through his head was your name, over and over.

With the blood spilled on the ground, staining his clothes and dripping down his fingers, soaking his palms and dripping from his elbows, all he could think of was you, you, you.

And then he had you again, pulled into his arms with a breath of relief that, even though bloody and broken, you were still here, still with him.

For days after, sex was the last thing on both of your minds. The only thing Joel cared about was your recovery, treating and redressing your wounds around the clock, making sure you had anything that you needed, when all you ever really needed anymore was him.

When enough time had passed that you had begun to wake up with an ache throbbing between your legs to have him deep inside of you, Joel finally satisfied you, slipping his cock in and rocking into you with your legs thrown over his shoulders, moaning into your mouth as you pleaded him for more, more, more.

Only when you quite literally couldn’t take any more, sweat pouring down your body as it trembled from overstimulation, with Joel’s cum dripping from your pussy and down your legs, did you both collapse back onto the bed with heavy pants.

You rolled over onto your stomach, dancing your fingers down every wrinkle etched across his face, humming in content as you knew you would do whatever it took to keep him as in love with you as he was now.

Because loving Joel Miller was not only a fucking drug that you were addicted to, but the last thread of your sanity that barely kept you together.

And you were his last saving grace, the fragile peace he had built his life around, the poison he would drink just to give himself some sense of relief, some sense of purpose in the unwavering devotion of your love.

Now that you had this dark paradise, you would seal your own terrible fates forever not to let it go.

[justanother-nerds-blog]

@gobackimhaunted Raquel, I'm sorry you didn't get this live but you can have this recording

[justanother-nerds-blog]

MAYA HAWKE Make-up by Emma Day ahead of the Asteroid City Premiere at Cannes Film Festival, May 23rd 2023