negansdarlin

[negansdarlin]

cooking up a negan fic who cheered 😁😁

[negansdarlin]

YOUNG, GREEN AND STUPID

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: after spending the night at Joel's your walk of shame is darkened with a hangover and anxiety. As you try to reconstruct the events of last night in your head, you realize that despite feeling uneasy, you can't say no to Joel. warnings: darkfic, manipulation, self-gaslighting, age gap [Joel is 61, don't read it and don't @ me about it if it's not your thing, just leave], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-30s. word count: 3,8k

a/n: thank you to the freaks who support me and this fic, i'm kissing y'all. i appreciate all the asks and comments and reblogs, they motivate the fuck out of me. giant thanks to the one and only @arcanefox207 , if not for her i'd smash my laptop against the wall. Ally you are my blessing of a beta and a friend <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 1 | part 3

The crushing weight of someone’s body around you made you feel trapped. Your back was covered in sweat, sleek where it pressed against your last night’s date. You wiggled, your head pounding in an unforgiving manner. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tried to fight the pain from the light punching you square in your face. 

With bleary eyes you took in your surroundings, at least as much as you could make out. The room welcomed you with dark pastel colors. It looked tidy, but stuck somewhere in the 80s. Dark blue walls were scarcely decorated by a painting of a lone cowboy in the middle of nowhere and a wooden plaque of the Texas state map. A shred of sunlight that bothered your pulsing eyes crept through the curtains that the house owner had forgotten to fully draw last night. You couldn’t make out the color as staring directly at the light made your headache worse. 

Hardwood wardrobe matched the bedframe and the table, and by the look of you realized that even the furniture in this house could be older than you. Simple cotton bed sheets soaked in your warmth, it felt overwhelming and too hot to enjoy, so you tried to get out of your date’s embrace. 

Without looking at him too much, you cautiously threw off the duvet cover, finding yourself fully naked underneath. You couldn’t remember when you undressed. The last thing you could dig out of your foggy mind was falling asleep on the man’s chest, with your dress still hugging your body. You dared to peek underneath, just to be met with your suspicion. Joel was as naked as you. 

Was there anything else you didn’t remember?

Anxiety started prickling at your heart, unease settling in. Gently, you grabbed the hand that was still laying heavy on your stomach and placed it on the bed. You held your breath, listening to the man next to you, but he didn’t budge. You slid out of bed, your bare feet met with a soft worn out rug. Before standing up, you give Joel one look over your shoulder. As if feeling your gaze, he shifted in his bed, turning to lay on his back. 

Your nakedness felt very apparent, and you brought your hands to cover your breasts, like someone could see you. You looked around, in search of your clothes, planning to find it on the floor or wherever else you could throw it in the state of bliss and inebriation. 

To your surprise, you found the skimpy outfit gently folded and placed on the table in the corner of the room, Joel’s clothes laying in a neat pile just next to yours. Something similar to a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you quickly regained your composure. The fact that your clothes were taken care of didn’t cancel the fact that you didn’t remember how you lost it in the first place.

You unfolded the dress, sighing over the walk of shame you were going to face. The material felt unpleasant against your skin that was still sticky with sweat and potentially some other fluids. 

Once you pulled the dress on, you finally dared to look at the man in the bed again. Somewhere between your attempts to remember the night and redressing, his tossing made the duvet slip lower, and now he was laying there in almost all his naked glory. A beam of sun that peeked through the heavy curtains tickled his weathered, tanned skin with its warmth. You couldn’t deny it, the man was gorgeous with or without alcohol in your system. Him laying on his back let you see his face more clearly: it was ridden of any emotion, peaceful dream ironing the deepest of his wrinkles. His broad chest that was sprinkled with freckles and sun spots kept raising and falling slowly. One of his hands was resting on his lower belly, hiding a patch of almost fully gray happy trail from you. 

Your eyes slid lower, tracing the same pattern your tongue did less than twelve hours ago, if your foggy memories were correct. His cock laid soft against his hairy upper thigh, no less intimidating in girth, though shorter in length. Your mouth watered against your will as you tried to recall what it felt like to have him in your mouth. Gently, your pussy throbbed, bringing fire to your core. Joel’s legs were spread a little, and if you stood right in front of him, you’d see a pair of massive balls that you lathered in your attention and saliva last night. Heat crept to your cheeks and you shook your head trying to force the unwanted desire out of your body. You tiptoed towards the door, keeping your eyes on him and praying that his door doesn’t squeak. Just as you tugged at the doorknob, his left thigh jerked, and Joel brought his hand to rub his closed eyes. 

The loud bang of his front door forced Joel to finally open his eyes. He heard you rummaging around his room, trying to be a quiet little mouse, but for his old age he still had pretty decent senses. Well, hearing, at least. He didn’t budge, not exactly pretending to be asleep yet also not giving you any reason to think otherwise. His body pleasantly ached from sleeping on his side, cocooning you with his body. 

Now that you were gone, he stretched his arms wide and flexed the fingers on his bad hand. It’s been a year too long since he had a pretty young thing like you warming his sheets. The sweet scent of your sweat clung to the pillowcase and he wanted to bury his face in it as he lazily jerked himself to the memories of your cunt exploding on his tongue. 

Your pretty young body tasted divine. He licked his lips hoping to taste the remnants of your cum from his mustache. There was something so addictive about having a girl more than half his age writhe and moan for him, beg so prettily. All of them were the same, so desperate for real attention, for someone who knew how to give them what they didn’t even know they wanted. 

Joel’s cock throbbed in his hand and he brought his palm to his face to spit at it again. You were so wet on his tongue, a fountain of youth no less. So fertile, so easy. His balls were heavy with unspilled cum, he knew it wasn’t long before he burst into your pretty little cunt, and then your ass, too. It took him only a couple of hours to have you gulping him down. Yes, he had to turn to the assistance of trusty powder he kept in his drawer this first time. But judging by the hunger you had in your eyes as you climbed off his face some time later, studying his face shiny with your cum, he wouldn’t need that anymore. You’d end up craving him as much as he craved you from the moment he set his eyes on you.

He squeezed his shaft tighter, his movements more deliberate as his thumb teased the tip and smeared the pearly precum. He didn’t doubt that he already had crept under your skin, the eyes you gave him yesterday with your mouth full of his balls was one of a person hooked. He’d seen it before enough times to know you’d be back. He just needed to be patient now, and if there was something his years made him good at, it was waiting.

Joel gave himself a final jerk, exploding over his knuckles with a deep grunt.

A bunch of keys rattled loudly when you dropped it into a ceramic plate on a table in the hallway of your small apartment. You cursed gruffly, squeezing your eyes shut at the harsh sound. You kicked off your shoes on the way to the bathroom, and with a tired sigh, you pulled off your dress.

“Damn, what the--?” In a hurry, you forgot your panties at Joel's. If this was a regular date, you might have intentionally left an intimate piece of clothing, but with Joel, you couldn’t even... hell, you couldn't even remember if your panties were on that table with your dress.

Your head was still pounding, even taking a taxi with your head out the window didn't help much.

You kept replaying last night in your head, trying to fill in the blanks. You didn’t think you drank more than a bottle; plus, Joel shared it with you, so what the hell happened? He was definitely pouring the slightly bitter-tasting liquid from the bottle that you handed him, you saw the label. You remembered how he walked into the kitchen with an opened wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. Surely he couldn't...?

No, that was crazy talk. It was high time for you to stop listening to your serial killer podcasts. After all, he didn't do anything to you that you hadn’t asked for, that you hadn’t begged for. Especially since now you were in your own apartment, and not tied to a radiator in his basement.

You pulled the faucet handle, the warm water was filling your tub quickly. To make it better, you poured a handful of lavender-scented salt, the soft odor seeped into your lungs and gently calmed you down.

Slowly, you sank into the water, it enveloped you like a hot blanket, making you moan with pleasure. You allowed yourself to close your eyes, leaning your head against the back of the bath tub.

The recollection of your arrival to his house was clear as day; he was friendly and so, so gallant. None of Joel’s actions made you feel uncomfortable or unsettled. He was attentive, his gaze followed your every move, and even the memory of his brown eyes made your skin boil with an inexplicable feeling of desire.

The way he shot glances in the direction of your boobs made your heart beat wildly in your chest. He was trying to hide how much he wanted you, it was adorable and sexy at the same time. He wanted you more than any of your previous lovers seemed to. Maybe that was the reason why you didn't want to leave. The thing that pulled you into his living room and then pushed you to fall between his legs.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't remember exactly how you got there. You just remembered the taste of his salt, the low vibrations of his moans, and the insatiable desire to have more. 

Damn, you felt your pussy purr. Joel had some strange effect on your body, manipulating your mind even in his absence. Summoning all your willpower, you continued your journey through your memories, but the further you went, the more hazy they became.

Only your body remembered something, and that something was pleasure. His hot tongue exploring the folds of your pussy; his curved nose teasing your clit with every greedy movement. His bestial growl when you poured the sweetness of your orgasm into his thirsty mouth. 

And then darkness.

[Joel M.]: Hey, sweetheart, did you get home safe? [Joel M.]: I am not counting that yesterday was something you’d want to repeat, I just want to know you’re alright.

You jerked up from a dreamless nap and blindly found your phone under the pillow. Blinking the sleep out of your eye, you looked at the messages on your screen, doubt about opening them creeped inside you when you saw the sender. The little picture next to Joel’s name still showed you the dream man you went to meet yesterday. A man who turned out to be a lie, kind of. Thoughts of Joel confused you, on one hand he was an accidental liar, and on the other he was one of the best orgasms you’d ever had. An orgasm that still sent tingles down your pussy and made your hand go south. 

Hoping that the attraction your body felt to him was the result of your drinking, and then your hangover. You sighed as the memory of his cock sliding down your throat and the phantom touch of his tongue tracing your wet folds made you weep for him in a way you didn’t think your body could. Rationally, you still tried to fight your carnal interest in a man in his grandpa years, but your hand slowly trekked to your pussy that was filling with warmth and slickness.

You tapped the message open and typed your reply with one hand.

[You]: Hey, Joel, yeah, I’m good :) And I had a very good time yesterday.

Your text was read immediately, and you felt a pang of guilt that you made him sit and stare at his phone waiting for your reply while you were tracing the lips of your pussy and thinking about him in the most indecent way.

[Joel M.]: Well my evening certainly beats yours, I had this beautiful lady come over, she was so intelligent and beautiful, I thought I’d been dreaming the whole night.

A smile spread across your lips as you grinned at the screen. Something warm bloomed in your heart that made it difficult to stay indifferent. 

[You]: Is that all you can say about her? [Joel M.]: I don’t think other things would be appropriate to share, darlin

The buzz of your need that you tried to suffocate since you got out of your bath returned to your body with doubled vigor.

[You]: I promise I won’t tell

Your heart began to pound harder, the vibrations of excited beats bouncing off your ribs in the rhythm of the three dots that flashed at the bottom of the screen. You bit your lip, tearing at the delicate skin in an attempt to calm the swarm of thoughts that were constantly buzzing, trapped in your skull. 

You were driven by greed, by the selfish need to experience again what thrilled you yesterday. It was inexplicable, as if two basic instincts were fighting for control over you, and desire won out, pushing self-preservation into a distant dark corner of your mind.

[Joel M.]: In that case, she was the sexiest little thing I’ve seen my whole life. She had this gorgeous skin tight dress on, looked delicious in it, I think I started salivating the moment I saw her. And I was lucky enough to taste her later and let me tell you, just the memory of her sweet pussy on my face makes me hard.

You reread the message three times, feeling a drop of arousal leaving your hole and sliding down to the crack of your ass. With one finger you swiped it up and brought it to your clit, not playing with it but gently teasing around, soft moans sticking to your throat as you refuse to let them out.

[You]: does it really? [Joel M.]: You want proof? [You]: yeah

[image attached]

You had ripped your hand from your pussy, opening the photo and adjusting the brightness. It was the most stereotypical dick pic ever sent, but you couldn’t care less when you saw it. 

“Fucking hell.” You whined out loud. Joel’s cock, hard and standing proud, looked massive even in his bear paw of a hand. Its head was deep pink, the drop of precum on his angry slit catching the light of the lamp lit room. He didn’t lie a word, he looked painfully aroused and it worked like your personal siren’s song. 

You licked your dry lips, hoping you’d be able to taste him again, to have his fat head stretching your lips with no regard to your comfort. Pushing you just enough without breaking. For a second, you felt like you could smell his musk, your mind playing tricks on you. 

His message beeped, jerking you out of your haze. 

[Joel M.]: Been dreaming her juicy little cunt all day today, could barely get any shit done. Shoulda let her feel my cock yesterday. [You]: Do you regret it? [Joel M.]: I regret that I couldn’t see her pretty face in the morning, wake her up by licking her pussy, fucking her with my fingers before she spills on my tongue. [You]: Fuck, I bet she’d like that. I bet you made her feel so good last night. Bet it was one of the best orgasms of her life and she’s touching herself right now thinking about it. [Joel M.]: Does she? [You]: yeah, she does. 

Forgetting to overthink your every decision, you bring your camera to your naked pussy, making sure that your face is not visible. You tapped the red button and looked at the screen, fascinated by the way your own pussy looks this close. You dragged your index finger to your slit, parting your lips, and then shamelessly demonstrated a string of arousal that stuck to your digit.

[video attached]

[Joel M.]: God, just look at this pussy, so sweet and wet, just begging for some attention. [Joel M.]: Needs someone who knows how to take care of her. [You]: will you? [Joel M.]: You know it. Now do as I say, sweetheart, and touch that pretty clit. Slowly, no need to rush. 

A part of you was relieved that he didn’t freak out about sexting, who knew if the man was even familiar with the concept, but he was definitely a natural. Once again, you captured your pussy and obedience, as you took another short video following his simple command.

[video attached]

[You]: like that? [Joel M.]: Fuck, honey, yeah, just like that. Look at her, gushing already, asking to fill her up so polite. Why don’t you use your fingers to make her feel better, hm? Use two fingers.

It felt good, it always did, you knew how to take care of yourself, you knew how to make yourself writhe and moan. But after him, it was like something was missing. He didn’t even fuck you properly and you felt empty, not enough. You started pushing your fingers inside with more anger and disappointment, unable to fill that weird hollow space that he carved inside you after one drunken night. 

[image attached]

[You]: feels so good, joel, but it’s not enough, fuck need something bigger [Joel M.]: I know what you need, darlin, you need my big fucking cock fucking you dumb. I know that’s right. Dying to fuck an old man, ready to beg for it, ain’t ya? [You]: yes 

You should have been ashamed of yourself, but in reality you didn’t give a crap. In that moment he was giving you something you wouldn’t dare take, and he made you feel good about it. You wished you could hear his raspy voice kissed by South spilling filth in your ear. 

[Joel M.]: Such a good girl, so responsive, so needy, can’t wait to fuck you properly. Add a finger, sweetheart. Not gonna match my cock, I know, for that you’d need to shove your whole fist inside, but I want you tight and crying when I fuck you.

Blinded by the haze of your pleasure, you followed every command, his message replaying in your head over and over, overstimulating your mind. The stretch didn’t burn, it felt good, welcomed, and you tried to curl your fingers to reach the spot that’d break you. You threw your phone on the bed, bringing your other hand to play with your nipples as the heel of your palm rubbed your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel,” you chanted. Your ears rang as your body convulsed in pleasure with the man’s name on your lips.

Your phone rang and you were surprised to see Joel’s request to facetime you. With a shaky finger you swiped to accept the call, leaving a smear of your cum on your screen.

“Judging by your face, that felt good?” His face was poorly lit, but you still saw a smile. 

“Yeah, good is one word,” you admitted, biting your lip. Your lower belly still trembled in the post orgasmic bliss.

“Show me, I think I deserved that, hm?” 

You hesitated for a moment, but spread your legs and angled your camera at your sleek, puffy pussy. Joel grunted, air leaving his lungs with a whistle. 

“Spread those lips, baby, I need to see you pretty hole twitchin’, need to see her winking at me.” It was gross, and weird, yet you did exactly what he asked. Your pussy was sensitive, and you whined as you spread yourself for him.

For a moment there was only silence and wet sounds of him jerking his cock to the sight of your abused pussy. You didn’t dare move. didn’t dare look at the screen even though another spark started burning deep inside you. 

“Fuck, good girl, good fuckin’- good pussy.” Joel’s voice shifted into growling, panting as he came all over his fist. It was your cue to bring the phone back to your face, he was already smiling at you from the other side. 

“So,” his breathing was mostly even, but the sweat glistening on his forehead was a telltale sign of the recent physical exercises. “Whatcha doin’ this Sunday?” 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“After this? Going to church.” 

“No, don’t do that, sweetheart,” Joel chuckled. You opened one eye, noticing how intently he was watching you, his eyes studying every bit of your face for crumbs of reaction, cracks in your freshly-built facade. “We don’t want you to burn alive, do we? How about you visit me?” 

“Pretty sure that’s what Satan said to Eve.” You brought yourself back into the darkness, your heart still pounding as if you’d ran a marathon. All of this wasn’t good, it was wrong but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact problem. He was seeping under your skin, and if you wanted to get rid of him, you’d have to flay yourself alive. Not a bright prospect by any means.

He was looking at you from the other side of the screen, his brown eyes piercing, but he didn’t push you. The words fell from your lips on your own accord.

“I can come by around 8, but this time I’m bringing food.”

Joel smiled, and nodded in agreement. Thick thumb rubbed his plush lower lip, like he was trying to remember something.

“Can’t wait to have a taste.”

You shook your head, a chuckle stuck in your throat. Without saying goodbye you disconnected from the call and dropped the phone on the pillow next to you. Your skin was sticky with sweat, a cold breeze from the opened window teased your flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Pleasant exhaustion and abysmal unease dragged your mind in two different directions keeping your body on the edge of sleep but not letting you fall.

Your bed felt too lumpy, wrinkles of your rumpled sheets digging into your skin. Tossing and turning until early morning, you couldn’t shake the creeping anxiety over your decision.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

[negansdarlin]

thinking about them as usual 🫶🏻

[negansdarlin]

⋆˚࿔ babydoll 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: you and joel are on a road trip and stop off for a quick meal at a diner and you can't resist the way that he perfectly moves to treat you like the princess that he knows you are.

warnings: light smut, public smut (not seen), mostly domestic, affectionate groping, nooutbreak!joel, fem!reader, age gap (unspecified), soft joel:)

(note- this is literally my first ever time really writing anything like this so pls bare with me 🥹)

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The gentle hum of joel's truck is the only sound that can be heard as his calloused fingertips run over your knee to genlty coax you awake. You'd been on the road for around six hours at this point and must've dropped to sleep in the warmth of the sun beating through the passenger window after the third hour of tediously watching the road disappear behind you.

As you come to, his voice rumbles out, smooth as honey and syrupy sweet, "hey darlin'" he flashes you a smile and returns his attention back to the road, hand still resting softly in your lap.

"Hey" you smile softly, still in a sleepy haze. You sit straighter in your seat and rub your eyes, pushing away and last remainders of sleep from your mind. The long, gruelling heat of the afternoon had come to an end some time ago it seems as the sun was already setting, casting a golden glow over the horizon and cooling the thick air. You shuffle slightly closer to joel to glance at the map open on the dashboard to see where you were headed for but before you can even begin to gather your bearings joel tosses it to the backseat and grunts.

"Forget the map."

"What? Why?" You ask, slightly shocked by the sudden movement but slightly intrigued by his sudden mystique.

"Nothin' darlin', don't worry your pretty little head, just trust me" he smiles sweetly at you, studying your freshly awoken features like they were the most precious things he could possibly have the pleasure to know.

"What's your trick, old man?" You probe, trying to press his buttons in order to get him to reveal his sudden secret but he just turns back to the road, pats your knee and chuckles to himself.

As the sun sinks low on the horizon he begins to pull into a quaint little diner sat on the side of the road. The white and red decor complimenting the golden sand that surrounds the area, giving the diner a romantic air. Your eyes widen as the truck pulls up in front of the window and you see the retro red stools and gingham tablecloths. You scramble to undo your seatbelt and leap across the centre controls and gearstick to plant a kiss on joel's cheek in joy. He giggles in surprise and his hand travels down your back and to your ass, giving it a light squeeze as he stabilises you, "so i take it that this was a good choice by me then, huh doll?"

"Joel!!! Are you kidding me!? Its perfect! Plus i'm absolutely starving so you have earned extra brownie points for reading my mind" you giggle excitedly, still glancing at the diner in your peripheral. He laughs as he shakes his head and his hand falls from your ass to the back of your thighs, patting them in a motion that urged for you to get out of the truck and head inside.

You scramble out of the truck and into the warm air, stretching your legs and smoothing your dress over your thighs before meeting joel in a hug at the front of the truck. He braces your head against his chest with his hands, softly stroking your hair and kissing your scalp gently, his beard tickling you as he does so. He guides you inside the diner and sets you down in a quiet booth tucked away in the corner of the diner.

"Know whatcha want sweetheart?" He asks with an inflection of love in his voice as his eyes are trained on you with sheer affection seeping through every inch of his face, eyes crinkled at the corners with joy. You nod gratefully as you point to the menu items that caught your eye immediately, stomach drawing your decisions more than any logical reason for actual nutritional value. You watch him pull out his wallet ready to cater to your any need and saunter up to the retro-style counter to order your milkshake and hot dog. Your eyes travel along the taught muscles moving beneath his grey shirt, reminders of the hard work he does to be able to treat you like a princess, a physical reminder of his devotion to you. Your eyes catch his sunkissed neck and the soft curls cradling his ears and a heat rises in your stomach. You pull your thighs together and shift in your seat, the heat rising to your cheeks and flushing your ears. Its hard to believe that such a man could treat you so delicately. He's so easy to watch and dote upon. He turns slowly after shooting the waitress one of his killer smiles, making her blush, making his way over to you with your treats.

Once he is sat down in front of you, and your eyes rake over his broad shoulders and collarbones peeking out from his shirt, you feel the heat begin to drop back down to your stomach right to your core. He's mumbling something about the diner and its decor, most likely about how it reminds him of when he was a kid, but you're too enamoured by the movement of his lips as he speaks to engage in what he is saying. Slowly, you lean over the table and plant a kiss on his lips which cuts him off mid-sentence, catching him off guard.

"What was that for, babydoll?" He mumbles against your lips, the name sending a bolt of need straight through you. You lean in for another, gripping his face in your hands and not caring about the now solemn look on the waitress's face at the scene. He sets his hand above yours and breaks free from the kiss to stare into your eyes, searching for the cause of your sudden shift in demeanour. You lift yourself off of your side of the booth, quickly checking to see that the waitress had disappeared behind the counter before sliding in next to joel, hands already roaming his chest and thighs whilst planting small kisses along his jaw whilst his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you in close.

"Your food's gonna go cold" he smirks.

"Mm don't care, you're too beautiful to resist" you mutter into his neck, palming at the growing bulge in his jeans and listening to his breath begin to hitch.

"Sweetheart, y'know i can't resist ya, but lets wait until we get to our motel so that i can treat you good n' proper, hmm?" He breathes into your hair, groping your chest tenderly as if to promise some kind of release later whilst you continue to place kisses on his warm neck, nodding. He brings your food and drink over to the side of the booth that you are both now sat and steals a sip of your milkshake to calm his mind, breathing hard and tensing to get rid of the growing issue between his legs.

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Once you had finished up in the diner, you make your way back to the truck sat in the barren parking lot guided by joel's arm firmly placed on your hip, occasionally travelling down to your ass and back again like a small promise for what awaited you once you got the the motel. He reaches across you to open the passenger side door, helping you into the truck and planting a kiss on your knuckles before walking around to the driver's side and starting up the truck with a fierce roar of the engine. You settled into the passenger side again, kicking your feet up on the dash like you owned the truck yourself and looking over at joel as he got you back on track on the road. His hair had curled more due to the humidity of the evening and his sunkissed skin had a slight sheen of sweat that made his features glow in the street lights, illuminating the bridge of his nose and his high cheekbones. The truck purred as it chugged along the road, lulling you both into a comfortable silence as his hand finds its way from the gearstick to your lap once again. His fingers firmly grip your wrist as he looks over at you, appreciating your tousled hair and flushed cheeks due to the thick heat trapped inside the truck.

"You're perfect darlin'" he grumbles, only slightly audible over the growl of the engine, but you catch it and flash him a soft smile, one that says 'i'm all yours' and you watch as his gaze lifts to return to the road. Something about his hand in your lap reassured you that as long as you were with him, nothing could ever happen to you. Like a silent promise to keep you safe no matter the conditions. His fingers rub circles on your thigh as he mutters sweet praise under his breath: "my pretty baby," "my babydoll," "so perfect for me." And the sound of this makes a heat rise back up to your ears as you watch his fingers work the soft skin of your thigh, gentle but reassuring. As your dress falls into a bunch on your lap, his hand travels further up your leg, but low enough to still be modest and tender, not urging you to go any further than you want to with him. You focus on his hands and the way that his fingers flex to grip you for the rest of the journey, silently soaking in the gentle touches and praise that he so willingly basks you in.

Eventually, he pulls into a motel and puts the truck into park, leaping out to collect your bags from the trunk before coming to help you out of the truck, hands roaming you all over, less sweet than the touches in the car, more hungry and needy. He drags you into the small room and slams the door shut behind you, sealing you both in your own bubble. His hand finds your face as he pulls you in for a kiss, "now, where were we, doll?"

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hey so like sorry if this is actually so dookie, i've never written anything like this before so i'm kinda nervous to publish it but aaah! hope you like it!

tags:

[negansdarlin]

sleeping in an abandoned barn with joel miller 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ˖⁺‧

[negansdarlin]

manifesting a 4th of july/look both ways summer with this <3

[negansdarlin]

Oh, I'm gonna miss you forever, pedro's Joel Miller.

[negansdarlin]

this is so good

Sunset On The Fenceline

Summary: In a world still haunted by old dangers, Joel and you have built a quiet life together on a farm outside Jackson. Between playful banter, shared chores, and tender moments by firelight, they hold tightly to the love they fought so hard to find.

Pairing: joel miller x fem!wife reader

Word count: 11k

Content warnings: domestic married life, farm life, soft joel, fluff, oral/p in v smut, flirting, banter, teasing, imagined reader in her 40s (but it's not mentioned), no y/n used, Joel lives and makes amends with Ellie and nothing bad ever happened, Ellie/Dina/JJ appearance

A/N: divider by @/saradika-graphics. I just want a domestic life with him. Okay, had to add...I am a weirdo and do research for my fics a lot. When looking at Google Maps for Jackson…I found out there is a historical cabin called Miller Cabin. So, this is where Joel and Reader live. Headcanon now. ^ middle photo is the real place.

Before the sky was anything more than a pale smudge of blue-gray, Joel was out by the fence line. A loose board, knocked askew in the night — an elk, most likely — had him cursing softly under his breath. The quiet thunk of the hammer against wood carried through the cold morning air. His hands moved with the kind of sure, unhurried grace from a lifetime of building things up and tearing them down.

Chickens murmured and scratched in the dirt, feathers ruffling as they stirred from their roost. The old dog — a mangy mutt Joel always claimed wasn’t worth a damn, though he snuck scraps to it after every meal — stretched out on the porch in a patch of weak sunlight, one ear twitching at the sound of your footsteps.

You stepped outside, the chill biting at your skin through the worn fabric of Joel’s flannel you’d pulled on. In your hands, his coffee mug, a brown owl printed on the side, the glaze cracked, and a chip missing from the rim. The scent of the coffee curled up in the air between you.

“Joel?” you called, voice soft but carrying in the stillness.

He glanced up, a small, crooked smile flickering across his face. He gave you that look, the one that meant I hear you. I’m not done yet, as the hammer in his hand didn’t pause.

You sank into the rocking chair with a quiet sigh, setting the mug on the side table. The wood was rough and sun-bleached beneath your fingertips. Joel’s guitar rested nearby, strings catching the light like spider silk. You reached for it, the weight familiar and comforting.

A tentative strum sent a warm, uneven chord into the morning air. You tried to recall the chords Joel had shown you the week before, your hand stumbling over the frets. It was hard to focus when your eyes kept drifting back to him. The way his hands gripped the hammer, strong and steady, veins like old rope beneath sun-darkened skin. Those hands had carried you through storms, patched roofs, and pulled you close in the dark.

Even now, they distracted you.

You shook your head, chasing away the images of Joel’s hands—rough, scarred, so impossibly gentle when they held the guitar. But it was no use. The memory of his fingers moving over the frets, coaxing out soft, aching notes, settled stubbornly in your mind. 

You exhaled, glancing down at your clumsy and uncertain hands. The guitar felt heavier now; its neck was too broad, and the strings bit into your fingertips like always.

Still, you tried.

Your fingers fumbled for the shape of the chord he’d shown you days before. A rough pluck, then another. The opening notes of Make You Feel My Love drifted thin and uneven, snagging on missed strings and hesitant pauses. It was a ghost of the song, fragile and unfinished, but it filled the quiet morning.

You grimaced at a wrong note, muttering under your breath, “Shit.”

From down by the fence line, the steady thud of hammering stopped.

A beat later, you heard the crunch of boots over the leaves, and Joel’s silhouette appeared leaning against the porch railing, his expression softened by the early light.

“Didn’t mean to distract you,” you teased, setting the guitar in your lap like it might hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

He huffed a quiet laugh, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his back pocket. “Sounded like someone was tryin’ to murder that poor guitar.”

You shot him a look, but his grin was fond, the kind that melted you down to your bones.

“Here,” he said, crossing the porch and lowering himself beside you. His hands covered yours, guiding your fingers to the right frets. The scent of cedar and earth clung to him.

“Like this,” he murmured, the words threading through the still air. His thumb brushed the strings, and the note rang out clean and sweet.

You swallowed hard, your gaze fixed on his hands as they moved yours, calloused fingers coaxing the right shape out of yours. The steady warmth of his skin against yours made it impossible to concentrate, and you didn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, the pad of his finger hooking gently under your chin, tipping your face toward him.

Your eyes met his, heat rushing to your cheeks like you’d been caught doing something scandalous. “Sorry,” you muttered, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

Joel chuckled, the sound curling around you like the morning chill. “You make an old man like me feel downright irresistible,” he teased, a crooked grin settling.

“Joel,” you huffed, nudging his knee with yours, “you’re my husband.”

He shrugged, his thumb still tracing lazy circles against the back of your hand. “Yeah, well… still. You’re sittin’ here blushin’ over my hands like we’re a couple’a teenagers behind the bleachers. It’s weird.”

You laughed, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. “Can’t help it,” you said, leaning your shoulder against his. “You’ve got good hands. And I happen to like the way you use ‘em.”

He snorted at that, shaking his head, but his grin softened, his gaze lingering on you a little longer. “Keep talkin’ like that, darlin’, and I ain’t gonna be much help with your playin’.”

“Was hoping you’d say that,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

Joel groaned good-naturedly, leaning in to press a quick, scratchy kiss to your temple. “Troublemaker.”

“Alright, alright. Just help me,” you finally relented, the words slipping out on a breathy laugh.

Joel’s grin spread across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached for you without a word, his hands settling at your waist. You barely had time to react before he plucked you right out of the rocking chair like you weighed nothing.

A surprised little gasp escaped you, your hands catching at his shoulders. “Joel!”

He huffed a laugh, sinking into the chair with you cradled against him. The old wood creaked beneath his weight. His arm looped around your middle, pulling you close.

“Oh yeah, that’ll help me focus,” you snorted, wriggling slightly in his lap, the corner of your mouth twitching.

“Quit your squirmin’,” Joel said, his voice low and warm against your ear. “Or I’ll find a better way to distract you.”

You laughed, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. The world felt quieter like this, the morning sun brushing over the porch, the faint cluck of chickens in the yard, and Joel’s familiar, steady presence wrapped around you.

“Now,” he said, reaching for the guitar and settling it across both your laps, “let’s see if we can’t keep you from murderin’ this poor thing.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as you both found the strings. “If I mess up again, you can’t make fun of me.”

“No promises, darlin’,” Joel murmured, kissing your temple before guiding your hand to the first chord.

Joel’s hands covered yours, his calloused fingers guiding yours along the strings as the melody stumbled back to life. It was shaky, a little uneven, but better than it had sounded when you’d been struggling on your own. 

“Just relax,” Joel murmured, his thumb brushing slow circles against the inside of your wrist. The warmth of his touch chased away some of the tension coiled in your shoulders.

“I’m tryin’,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut for a second, savoring the quiet kindness in his touch.

Joel chuckled under his breath, his voice brushing the shell of your ear. “Maybe Ellie oughta be the one teachin’ you. You wouldn’t be actin’ all—”

“No!” you cut in too fast, your voice sharper than you meant. His brow arched, a crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at you.

“Oh?” he drawled, teasing laced in every syllable.

You huffed, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “I like you teachin’ me,” you admitted, your voice softening, “I just… get a little distracted by how handsome you are.”

Joel snorted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he heard, but the pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered with a grin, nudging his nose against your temple. “You’re somethin’ else.”

You grinned, leaning into him, letting the moment settle around you like a favorite old quilt — frayed at the edges but warm where it counted. His hands tightened gently around yours, guiding your fingers back to the strings.

“Alright then,” he said, his voice rough and fond. “From the top. And quit makin’ googly eyes at me while we’re at it.”

“No promises,” you shot back, smiling as you let him pull you through the notes again, your fingers clumsy but eager.

Somehow, you managed to focus, obedient under Joel’s steady hands. He guided you through the chords, his touch gentle, patient in a way only he could be. The notes came softly and unevenly, but they came, and that was enough.

You’d never been able to play without singing. The words found their way out even when you barely knew the notes. Quiet at first, more of a hum than a song as it filled the space between you.

Joel let out a soft sigh, sounding more like contentment than exhaustion, and lowered his head until it rested against your shoulder. 

The melody drifted over the porch, catching in the cool morning air. Your voice was unsteady, but Joel didn’t seem to care. His arm slipped around your waist, holding you closer, and you could feel the curve of his smile against your neck.

“You sound real pretty, sweetheart,” he murmured, like gravel warmed by the sun.

Your fingers faltered for a beat, your heart stuttering at the words. You turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing against his. “Only ‘cause you’re helpin’ me,” you whispered.

Joel chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest against your back. “Nah. You’d be somethin’ special with or without me.”

The porch, the rising sun, the whole vast, broken world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you — the old guitar balanced across your laps, your voices tangled together in a half-remembered tune, and Joel’s steady warmth anchoring you to the here and now.

You kept playing and singing, just for him.

And he stayed right there, head on your shoulder, like he belonged nowhere else.

“Quit fussin’, it’s just Ellie—” Joel started, his voice carrying that familiar mix of fondness and exasperation as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you pace the kitchen.

You glared at him over your shoulder, though there wasn’t an ounce of real heat behind it. “It’s not just Ellie,” you huffed, gesturing wildly with the dish towel. “It’s Ellie, Dina, JJ, Tommy, and Maria coming over. So no, I won’t quit fussing. I’m a host, Joel—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Joel crossed the room in a few unhurried strides, slipping his arms around your waist from behind. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, stubble scraping lightly against your skin, and he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “you’re actin’ like the goddamn Queen of England’s comin’ over.”

You sighed, your body instinctively leaning back into his, the tension bleeding from your shoulders a little at his familiar weight. His hands settled against your stomach, rough palms warm through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“It’s family,” he went on, swaying you both slightly in place. “Ain’t nobody comin’ here to judge the state of the house or whether you baked enough pies.”

You let out a reluctant laugh, dropping your head against his shoulder. “I just want it to be nice. It’s been a while since we had everyone here at once.”

Joel’s fingers gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “It’s already nice, darlin’. ‘Cause you’re here. And I’m here. And there’s gonna be food, bad jokes, and probably Ellie makin’ fun of me at some point.”

You grinned at that, turning in his arms to face him. “She is ruthless.”

“Downright cruel,” Joel agreed, his grin lazy and fond as he leaned in to brush his nose against yours. “Now, how ‘bout you let me finish settin’ the table while you stop rearrangin’ them biscuits for the third time?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest when he stole another kiss, his thumb stroking lazy circles against your hip.

“Okay,” you breathed, the word soft as you finally let the biscuit drop from your fingers onto the plate. Joel squeezed your hip before releasing you, moving easily around the kitchen to help.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall into your old, familiar rhythm — him chopping vegetables while you stirred the gravy, the clatter of dishes and the low hum of the wood stove filling the space between you. Joel hummed under his breath, some old tune you half-recognized, and you found yourself relaxing into its simplicity.

But your ears kept flicking toward the window.

The sound came slowly at first—the faint, steady rhythm of hooves on hard-packed earth. Your pulse kicked up, just a notch, as it always did when they came down the road. It wasn’t far from Jackson to here, but every trip made your stomach twist in the same anxious knot. The world was quieter now, safer in some ways, but old habits died hard.

Joel must’ve heard it too, because he straightened up, wiping his hands on a dish towel as his gaze shifted toward the porch.

“They’re here,” he said, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You moved to the door without thinking, pushing it open just as Ellie’s voice rang across the yard.

“Y’all better have food ready!” she hollered, perched high on her horse, Dina behind her. JJ was cradled in Dina’s arms, bundled tight against the cold, cheeks flushed pink from the wind.

The tightness in your chest eased at the sight of them. 

Joel stepped up behind you, his hand settling on the small of your back like it always did. “There’s my girls,” he murmured, voice rough with fondness.

JJ spotted you and let out a happy little squeal, wriggling in Dina’s arms and waving a mittened hand. The sound made something warm and aching bloom in your chest.

“Hey, potato,” you called, waving back, already reaching for the spare quilt draped over the porch rail. “Bet you’re frozen solid, huh?”

“Mom’s been riding like a damn maniac,” Ellie grumbled, but she was grinning.

Dina laughed. “Kid loves it. Don’t let her fool you.”

Joel chuckled, heading down the steps to help them unload. “You all drive your old man to an early grave, you know that?”

“Too late for that,” Ellie shot back. Joel answered with a mock scowl, the kind meant to cover how goddamn pleased he was to see her in one piece, and it didn’t fool a soul.

You glanced past them, scanning the tree line, as if maybe Tommy and Maria would come riding up any second, but the road stayed empty.

“Where’s Tommy and Maria?” you asked, shifting JJ in your arms as he reached up, tiny gloved fingers curling around the collar of your shirt. You tucked the quilt closer around him, his nose cold against your neck.

Ellie swung her leg over her saddle, boots hitting the dirt with a soft thud. She exchanged a glance with Dina, something quiet passing between them before she spoke. “Y’know how it is,” she said, voice a little softer now, less sharp around the edges. “Maria’s got a town to run. Tommy wanted to stick around and help out.”

Joel’s jaw ticked, and you felt his hand brush against yours as he took JJ’s little mittens off, rubbing warmth into the boy’s tiny fingers. Neither of you needed it spelled out — it was code for they’re still working through it. The same way people said she’s just tired or he just needs space—small words for heavy things.

You exchanged a glance with Joel, and both nodded. It was the kind of shared understanding you didn’t need to speak aloud. You hoped they’d find their way back to each other. It was a hard world to stay soft in, harder still to hold on to the ones you loved.

Joel cleared his throat, shaking the tension off with a practiced ease. “Alright,” he said, jerking his head toward the house. “Let’s get inside. Food’s ready, and it ain’t gettin’ any hotter.”

JJ squealed at the sound of food, not knowing what the word meant, and you laughed, kissing the top of his head.

“Bet you made that cornbread I like,” Ellie teased, stepping beside Joel as they headed for the porch.

“Made two pans,” he grunted, side-eyeing her. “One for the rest of us, one for you, since you eat like a damn wolf.”

Ellie smirked. “Guess that makes you the old dog, huh?”

Joel shot her a look, but it was all warmth. Dina chuckled, and you cradled JJ a little tighter, feeling the old porch boards creak under your feet as the house filled with voices, laughter, and family.

After dinner, the lot of you settled into the living room, the last of the evening light giving way to the glow of the fireplace. The scent of woodsmoke clung to the air, mingling with the lingering warmth of cornbread and roasted vegetables.

JJ was perched happily in Joel’s lap, his tiny fingers tangled in the buttons of Joel’s flannel as he babbled nonsense words, occasionally punctuated by an enthusiastic slap to Joel’s chest. Joel bore it patiently, one big hand keeping the boy steady while the other cradled a half-full glass of whiskey.

Ellie was sprawled across the floor in front of the hearth, one leg stretched out, the other bent, picking at a loose thread on her sock. Dina sat cross-legged beside her, leaning into Ellie’s shoulder as they swapped stories about Jackson’s latest gossip. Who was sneaking out after curfew, which old timer claimed he’d seen a clicker near the old mill, and a petty feud over who had the nicest tomatoes this season.

“I swear to God,” Ellie snorted, tossing a peanut shell into the fire, “if I hear one more argument about whose chickens lay better eggs, I’m movin’ to another town.”

Dina grinned. “Sure you are. You barely leave your house unless there’s food involved.”

“I leave for important things,” Ellie shot back, smirking. “Food. Booze. Threatening people.”

Joel grunted, taking a slow sip from his glass. “Sounds like a hell of a role model for this kid,” he muttered, jostling JJ gently.

JJ let out a happy squeal, and Ellie pointed a finger at Joel without missing a beat. “You’re one to talk, old man. Kid’s already learning how to scowl just like you.”

“He’s got my charm, too,” Joel drawled, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

“God help us all,” you teased from where you sat curled up on the couch, a warm quilt draped over your lap.

Joel’s gaze flicked over to you, the firelight catching the soft curve of his smile. “You love it,” he said, voice quieter, meant just for you.

You smiled, eyes soft as they lingered on him, the flicker of firelight catching in the lines of his face. “’Course, I do,” you murmured, the words easy and sure, like saying I love you without needing to.

Leaning forward, you reached your arms out, palms open. Joel gave a mock sigh, shaking his head like it was the greatest burden in the world, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed him.

“Alright, c’mere, you little traitor,” Joel grumbled good-naturedly, lifting JJ from his lap.

The boy let out a delighted squeal, wriggling excitedly when Joel passed him over. His tiny hands immediately latched onto your collar, tugging with surprising strength as if you’d been gone for hours instead of minutes.

“Hey, little man,” you cooed, settling him against your hip as he giggled, his face nuzzling your neck. His skin was cool from sitting near the window, and he smelled like woodsmoke and cornbread crumbs.

“Already got him spoiled,” Joel teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug little grin. “Can’t stand to be five feet from you.”

“And yet you pretend like you’re not the same,” you shot back, raising a brow at him.

Ellie groaned dramatically from her spot by the hearth. “God, you two are worse than a couple of teenagers.”

“Don’t start, kiddo,” Joel replied without missing a beat, earning a laugh from Dina.

You just shook your head, rocking JJ gently in your arms as his giggles turned to soft, contented little sighs, his weight settling warm and steady against your chest. With the fire crackling low, the room bathed in soft, flickering light, and your family gathered close. You thought — this, right here, might be what peace feels like.

“Would you stop squirming?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. Your words slurred a little as you reached blindly across the bed, fingertips searching for him in the dark.

Joel grunted, the soft, rough sound you’d heard a thousand times — equal parts irritation and tenderness. He batted your hand away with little force, and when you opened your eyes, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand kneading at his knee.

The room was dim, and the dying fire cast a faint orange glow across the worn wooden floorboards. The wind rattled against the window panes, reminding you of the cold biting at the world outside.

Your expression softened, the haze of sleep falling away as you took him in. The tight line of his shoulders and thumb worked over the same spot as it might undo years of aches.

You shifted closer, the quilt dragging with you, and reached out to touch his shoulder, your hand warm against the chill of his skin. “C’mere,” you coaxed softly, your thumb brushing the curve of his neck.

“I’m fine,” Joel grumbled, though the rasp in his voice and the way he lingered beneath your touch said otherwise. “It’s just goddamn cold.”

“Stubborn,” you muttered under your breath, catching the faintest twitch of a smile from him.

Before he could argue, you gave his shoulder a nudge and tugged him gently back down. He sighed, a little huff of resistance that didn’t stick, and let you guide him onto his back.

“You could’ve cuddled up to me for some warmth, y’know,” you teased, shifting so you could settle against him, one leg draping over his, careful of the knee you knew gave him hell.

“Mmm,” Joel grunted, but he didn’t move away. His arm slipped around your waist, fingers curling at the curve of your hip, holding you like he always did.

You reached for the salve on the nightstand, the little tin cold against your fingers, and without a word, you pulled back the covers just enough to bare his knee. The scars there were old, pale against his skin, but you knew them like you knew the lines of his face.

He hissed softly when your fingers brushed over the tender spot.

“Easy,” you murmured, working the salve in slow, practiced circles. The scent of eucalyptus and pine filled the space between you. “I got you.”

Joel let out a long, quiet sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as he closed his eyes.

“Dunno what I’d do without you,” he muttered.

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss his shoulder.

Outside, the wind rattled against the side of the house, making the windowpane shudder in its frame. You glanced back at it instinctively.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joel whispered, his version of a promise. You knew that tone — it meant he’d be out there first thing in the morning with a hammer in hand, probably cursing under his breath the whole time.

You nodded, stifling a yawn behind your hand, then reached over him to tuck the tin of salve back into the nightstand drawer. The quilt slipped down your shoulder, cool air brushing your skin. You moved to pull away, but Joel’s hand shot out, catching you by the wrist.

You paused, hovering above him, a sleepy chuckle slipping from your lips. “What?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted from your face down to where the neckline of your nightgown had dipped, a bit of cleavage visible in the low light.

“Just admirin’ the view,” he drawled, one brow lifting, that unmistakable smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes as you swatted lightly at his chest. “Old man,” you teased, but there was no bite.

“Hey,” Joel murmured, catching your hand in his again, holding it against his chest. His voice softened. “Lucky old man.”

Your smile returned, slower this time. You kissed him softly before pulling the quilt around you both.

“Go to sleep, Miller,” you whispered against his lips.

Joel let out a low, contented grunt, sinking deeper into the mattress as his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you snug against him. The moonlight’s glow painted soft silver lines across the room, flickering over the weathered planes of his face.

“Can’t sleep,” he whispered, voice rough and lazy, “when I’ve got a beautiful wife lyin’ next to me.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, the sound small and fond in the hush of the room. You opened your mouth to toss some teasing remark back, but the words caught in your throat when Joel’s hand slid lower, settling at the curve of your butt, his palm warm through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut at the easy, familiar touch.

“One who takes care of me,” Joel went on, voice barely above a whisper now, “even when I’m too damn stubborn to deserve it.”

Your heart tugged at that, the quiet sincerity in his words weaving through your chest like thread. You shifted, lifting yourself just enough to lean over him, one hand brushing through the soft, graying hair at his temple.

He tilted his face toward you instinctively, and you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the scar that cut across the bridge of his nose. The old wound was a rough line beneath your lips, a story you didn’t need retold because you already knew it by heart.

Joel let out a breath, his hand flexing against your hip. “You always do that,” he murmured, a little wonder in his voice.

“Do what?” you asked softly, resting your forehead against his.

“Kiss that ugly thing,” he said, the faintest trace of a smile playing at his lips.

You smiled too, fingers tracing down the side of his face. “Ain’t ugly to me.”

The wind rattled against the window again, and Joel’s other hand cradled the back of your head, holding you there like he couldn’t quite bear to let go.

You closed your eyes, your words catching in your throat, settling somewhere deeper than speech. You kissed him again, slow and lingering, savoring the taste of him, the scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Gettin’ me all warm now, darlin’,” Joel rumbled against your lips, that lazy grin you could feel more than see.

You smiled, dragging your teeth lightly over his bottom lip before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Maybe that was the plan.”

Your hands roamed up his chest, fingers threading through the soft hair dusting his skin, the heat of him under your palms chasing away the last of the chill. His muscles tensed under your touch, a low sound catching in his throat.

“That so?” he muttered, and before you could answer, his hand slid down, fingers digging roughly into the curve of your ass. The sudden squeeze made you gasp, your body arching into him, a spark of arousal pooling low and thick between your thighs.

“Joel,” you breathed, as his mouth moved to your jaw, then lower — hot, wet kisses trailing down your throat, teeth grazing just enough to leave your skin tingling.

In one easy motion, he rolled you onto your back, settling between your legs, his weight delicious and solid above you. His mouth found your collarbone, where the strap of your nightgown had slipped down, and he followed it with his lips, pressing hot kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you whimpered, your hips shifting restlessly beneath him, desperate for more.

That earned you a smirk, the kind that made your stomach flip. “Such a dirty mouth,” he teased, voice rough against your skin. “Oughta put it to good use.”

He kept kissing lower, his stubble scraping a path down your chest as his hands found the straps of your nightgown, tugging them down your shoulders, dragging the thin fabric with agonizing slowness.

“But,” Joel murmured, his mouth trailing over the swell of your breast, “I wanna make my beautiful wife feel good first.” His gaze flicked up, locking with yours filled with warmth and hunger.

You bit your bottom lip, a whimper catching in your throat, your body already trembling beneath him. “Joel… please,” you whispered, the ache inside you sharp and sweet.

He groaned softly at that, clearly savoring the way you begged for him. “Mmm, what a good girl,” he rasped, his breath hot against your sensitive skin as he kissed over one nipple, his hand kneading the other, rough palms and gentle touches making you shudder.

“Don’t have to beg, honey,” he murmured. “Just relax… let me take care of you. You’ve earned it.”

Joel’s mouth drifted lower, leaving a heated trail of kisses from the swell of your breast to the edge of your nightgown. His stubble scraped over your skin, a delicious contrast to the warmth of his lips. You shivered beneath him, your fingers threading into his hair, clinging just enough to make him smirk against your skin.

Without a word, he shifted down, settling between your legs. His big hands slid up your thighs, rough palms coaxing the nightgown higher, the fabric bunching around your hips until you felt the cool air of the room kiss against your bare skin.

Joel stilled momentarily, his gaze locking on the sight of you lying open for him. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest, his thumb grazing along the soft inside of your thigh.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice rough. “So goddamn pretty.”

You let out a soft whimper, your hips tilting instinctively toward his touch.

His hands spread you open with practiced, careful ease, thumbs pressing into your skin, the pressure just enough to make your breath hitch. Joel leaned in, pressing a slow, unhurried kiss to the top of your pussy, the heat of his mouth making you jolt.

“Been thinkin’ about this all damn day,” he groaned against you, his breath hot, the gravel in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You always get me like this.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair as he kissed lower, teasing, taking his time like he wasn’t in any rush to let you go. His tongue flicked out, a light, maddening touch that had your thighs trembling around him.

“Joel—” you gasped, your head tipping back into the pillows.

He chuckled, and glanced up at you from between your legs, his eyes heavy-lidded and hungry. “Patience. Gonna take my time with you tonight.” His hands smoothed over your thighs, thumbs pressing gently into your skin.

You barely managed a nod, your fingers threading into his hair, the strands warm and soft under your touch.

Then Joel’s mouth was on you again. His tongue moved with maddening precision, every flick and stroke drawing out a fresh wave of heat that made your back arch and your breath break apart. He wasn’t in any rush, savoring every sound you made, every tremble in your thighs, the way your hands tightened in his hair when you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Christ,” you gasped, a soft, helpless sound you didn’t mean to make.

Joel’s grip on your hips tightened, holding you steady as he looked up at you again, his lips slick and curved in the faintest smirk. “That’s it, honey,” he rasped. “Lemme hear you.”

Joel’s mouth never relented, his tongue and lips working you open with devastating precision. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs stroking soft, soothing circles against your skin even as he kept you pinned in place. Every flick of his tongue, every careful pull of his lips sent another pulse of heat through you, winding you tighter and tighter until you felt like you might come apart.

And then you did.

Your body arched, a choked cry slipping from your lips as release crashed over you. Joel groaned against you, the low, rough sound sending another shiver through your spent body. He didn’t stop — his mouth gentler now, but still savoring you, lapping up every last tremble, every aftershock, until you were breathless, your voice wrecked from the way you gasped his name.

“Joel… please,” you managed between shallow breaths, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly as the overstimulation made your thighs twitch around him. “I can’t—”

He chuckled, a satisfied sound that rumbled against your skin. Pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another a little higher, his scruffy beard grazing your sensitive skin in a way that made you shudder.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, voice rough and full of affection. “Wrecked you good, huh?”

You let out a shaky laugh, your chest still heaving, as he kissed his way up the length of your body, savoring every inch like it mattered. When he finally reached your mouth, he paused, cradling your jaw as his thumb brushed your cheek.

Joel kissed you, deep and warm, tasting you and lingering with want.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the hush of the room.

“Love seein’ you like that,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Ain’t never get tired of it.”

You smiled, fingers still tangled in his hair, your touch gentle, affectionate even in your haze of want. “Wanna make you feel good,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sure.

Joel let out a soft groan, the sound thick with need. His lips brushing your jaw, he lowered them to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “You do, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and uneven. Every damn time.”

His hand cupped your cheek, holding you there for a beat, his thumb stroking over your flushed skin. His voice dropped, rough and tender all at once. “Gonna let me have you now?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your body arching toward him, trembling with a fresh wave of need.

That was all he needed.

Joel wasted no time, rising onto his knees, shoving his boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock was hard, thick and already leaking, and your mouth watered at the sight of him. He stroked a hand down himself, eyes locked on yours, watching the way you shivered beneath him.

“Been thinkin’ about this since dinner,” he confessed in a gravelly murmur, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

You bit your lip, reaching for him, your touch making him hiss through his teeth. “Then stop takin’ your time, Miller.”

Joel chuckled, leaning down to steal a slow, heated kiss, his hand sliding between your thighs, parting you with the same care he always took.

“You got me,” he whispered, lining himself up, the head of his cock nudging against you. “Always.”

Joel pushed the tip inside with slow, steady pressure, and the moment he breached you, both of you let out a low, broken moan. The stretch, the heat, the sheer ache of having him fill you made your head fall back against the pillows, your fingers gripping at his shoulders, needing something to hold onto.

“Oh, Joel,” you whimpered, your voice catching on the way your body opened for him, already trembling with the desperate need for more.

He groaned at the sound, leaning over you, his lips finding your throat in a series of open-mouthed kisses. His stubble scraped your sensitive skin, a rough contrast to the softness of his mouth as he murmured your name against your neck.

“Goddamn… you feel so good,” he rasped, his voice thick with hunger and something deeper beneath it. Something that sounded a little like awe.

His hands slid down your sides before guiding your legs around his waist. His touch was unhurried but sure, as if he were fitting you exactly where you belonged. You locked your ankles at the small of his back, and he let out a shaky breath, bracing one hand beside your head while the other gripped your thigh.

“Hold on to me,” Joel muttered, his voice a low promise as he pushed in deeper, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt, the stretch making your body arch into his.

A gasp tore from your lips, your nails digging into his back. Joel cursed under his breath, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s it, honey. Just like that.”

His body blanketed yours, his skin hot and slick against yours. Joel’s hand slid up your side, rough fingers trailing over your ribs before cupping your breast, his palm warm as he kneaded the soft flesh. His thumb brushed over your nipple, teasing it into a tight peak before rolling it between his fingers, and the jolt of sensation made you arch into him.

His hips rocked against yours, deep strokes that filled you perfectly, each one hitting that spot that made your toes curl. It wasn’t rushed — it never was with him. Joel fucked like a man who meant every movement, like he could live in the moment forever if you let him.

A breathy moan slipped from your lips, your head tipping back as pleasure coiled tight in your belly, building with every unrelenting, perfect thrust.

“Feels so good,” you panted, your voice breaking on the words as his fingers tugged and toyed with your nipple. Your thighs clenched around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into sun-warmed skin.

Joel groaned low in his throat, ducking his head to press his mouth to your collarbone, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “Yeah? Can feel you squeezin’ me. So fuckin’ perfect.”

Sometimes you wished he could stay like this, buried deep inside you, his body over yours, the world outside forgotten.

You let the thought slip past your lips in a ragged whisper, “Wanna keep you like this… always.”

Joel’s pace stuttered briefly, a rough, wrecked sound leaving him before his mouth found yours. The kiss was all heat and tenderness, tongues tangling as his hand cradled your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Joel rasped, breath hot against your ear. “Wanna feel you make a mess on my cock.”

The words hit you like a jolt, a needy moan slipping from your lips as you buried your face against his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. Joel groaned at the sensation, his hand sliding down from your jaw, fingers trailing over your flushed, sweat-slick skin before settling between your legs.

His thumb found your clit, circling maddening patterns in time with the steady, deep thrust of his hips. The friction sent sharp sparks through your nerves, the pleasure building too fast, too much, but you didn’t want him to stop.

“Oh, Joel… fuck,” you gasped, your voice breaking, your whole body trembling beneath him.

Joel smirked against your shoulder, feeling the way your thighs tightened around his waist, how you clung to him like you might fall apart if he let go. His gaze stayed on you, drinking in every flicker of pleasure that crossed your face, the way your lips parted in a soft, helpless cry.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled, his thumb pressing just a little harder, his cock driving deep and slow. “Let go for me. Lemme see you.”

Your fingers dug into his back, nails leaving faint crescents in his skin as your release finally tore through you, your body arching into his. A raw, breathless sound escaped you — a mix of his name, a gasp, and a whimper.

Joel’s pace slowed, his hand steady on your hip as he rode you through it, watching you fall apart like it was the best thing he’d ever seen. “Atta girl,” he murmured, his thumb easing up but never leaving you entirely. “Just like that. So goddamn beautiful when you come for me.”

Your chest heaved, the aftershocks making you shiver as you clung to him, the warmth of his body anchoring you to the here and now.

Joel’s lips brushed your temple, his breath hot and ragged against your hair as he slowed, his hips stuttering. He started to pull out, muscles tense like he was holding back, when your eyes flew open and your hand shot out, catching his wrist in a firm, desperate grip.

“No,” you breathed, voice trembling as you looked up at him, your gaze locking on his. “Come inside me.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening as his brow knitted. His eyes searched yours as a storm of desire, hesitation, and tenderness flickered across his face.

“Sweetheart—” he started, his voice rough and uncertain in that way he rarely showed.

“Please,” you whimpered, your legs tightening around his hips, clenching around him as if your body could keep him there on its own. Your fingers traced up his arm, over the tense line of his shoulder, to cradle his face.

Joel groaned, the sound breaking low and deep in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut like he didn’t stand a chance against you. “Christ, honey…”

His restraint shattered.

He rocked back into you with a sharp, shuddering thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and your body welcomed him like it was made for it. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as his release hit, his whole body trembling as he spilled inside you.

You felt him tense, felt the warmth flood through you, and the sound he made — a low, wrecked groan into the crook of your neck — left you almost desperate for him again.

“Fuck,” Joel whispered against your skin, his breath uneven, his hold on you unyielding. He stayed buried deep, like he couldn’t bear the space between you.

You pressed your lips to his temple, your fingers gently carding through his hair as you both came down, your bodies still tangled together.

Eventually, Joel moved to lie beside you, one arm draped heavy and warm across your stomach, his fingers absentmindedly tracing lazy circles against your damp skin.

Your chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, the aftershocks of sex lingering in the ache of your muscles and the pleasant haze behind your eyes. His scruffy cheek brushed your shoulder as he shifted closer, pressing a kiss beneath your collarbone.

You let your fingers card through his hair, tugging gently at the damp strands. Joel hummed low in his throat, that rumbling sound you loved, and nestled his face against your neck like he was trying to soak up every last trace of you.

“Hell of a way to warm a man up,” he said, voice thick and hoarse but threaded through with a rare, unguarded sweetness.

You smiled, your eyes closed, and the ache in your limbs was welcomed. “Told you it was the plan,” you whispered, your palm sliding over his broad back, the ridges of old scars familiar beneath your touch.

Joel huffed a quiet, contented laugh, his hand smoothing over your hip and pulling you impossibly closer. The quilt had slipped to your waist, the cool air brushing against overheated skin.

Outside, the wind had quieted, leaving the night still and heavy with the scent of rain in the distance. The world beyond the walls felt far away. The steady beat of Joel’s heart beneath your palm, and the deep, bone-deep peace that followed a storm.

He shifted enough to press another kiss to your temple, lingering there like he wasn’t ready to let the moment go.

“Love you,” Joel murmured so softly it was barely a sound, his lips brushing your skin as the words slipped out.

You didn’t say it back. You didn’t have to. Instead, you turned your face to his, caught his mouth in a tender, unhurried kiss, and let him feel it.

And in the quiet, with nothing but the steady rise and fall of your breathing, Joel smiled against your lips.

The morning had passed in the slow, easy rhythm you’d come to love. Feeding the chickens as the sun climbed over the hills, collecting a handful of stubborn eggs from beneath their nesting boxes, and brushing down the two horses you and Joel had kept since settling on the farm.

Dusty and Apollo — named with Ellie’s enthusiastic help — shifted lazily in their stalls, the scent of hay and earth hanging thick in the air. The old barn was cool despite the warmth rising outside, beams of sunlight slipping through the weathered slats to stripe the floor in soft gold.

“There you are, darlin’,” Joel’s voice carried through the space, low and familiar, like a song you knew by heart. You glanced up to see him wiping his hands on his jeans as he stepped into the barn, a crooked little grin on his face.

You offered him a smile, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “That window give you any trouble?” you asked, lifting a brow in challenge.

Joel huffed, shaking his head as he came closer. “Please. I've been fixin’ worse than that since before you were walkin’.”

You snorted, though warmth bloomed in your chest at the easy way he teased you. He reached for your hand, the one still holding the brush, his calloused palm covering yours. Without a word, he guided your stroke lower along Dusty’s dark coat.

“Start from the bottom,” Joel said, his voice soft as his thumb brushed your knuckles. “Work your way up. Feels better for ‘em.”

You glanced at him, catching his gaze on your face before flicking back to the horse. The years had etched themselves into his skin, but his eyes — warm and impossibly kind when he let you see them — made your heart flutter.

“Gentler, too,” Joel added, his lips curving into a fond smile as he watched you follow his lead.

You bit back a grin. “I can be gentle.”

“Oh, I know you can,” he drawled, a glint of something playful in his voice. “Just like teasin’ you about it.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his as you worked the brush through Dusty’s coat. Joel let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, but said nothing, content to fall into the quiet rhythm of the barn. The scrape of a hoof against straw, the muted clatter of chickens pecking outside, the steady rise of warmth as the morning stretched on.

After a while, you glanced up at him, brushing a hand down Apollo’s nose as the big chestnut gelding nuzzled against your palm. “Ellie told me someone in Jackson’s has coffee to trade.”

Joel grunted, hauling a bundle of hay over to Dusty’s stall. “Yeah? What they askin’ for?”

You smirked, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Chickens.”

He paused mid-toss, brow arching. “How many?”

“Four.”

Joel straightened up, scoffing under his breath. “Christ. Four chickens? What kinda coffee we talkin’ here? Magic beans?”

You bit back a laugh, moving to stroke Apollo’s flank. “Don’t act like you’re not tempted. We both turn into miserable assholes without it.”

Joel gave you a sidelong look, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Speak for yourself, sweetheart. I’m delightful.”

You snorted. “Sure you are. Real ray of sunshine before your first cup.”

He stepped closer, hand reaching out to tug playfully at the loose tie of your braid. “If I give up four chickens for some half-assed coffee, it better be strong enough to put hair back on my head.”

“Too late for that,” you teased, grinning as you reached up to smooth a hand over his graying hair.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

“I try,” you shot back, leaning in to brush a quick, affectionate kiss to his cheek before moving toward the feed bins. “We’ll talk about it later. You know you’re gonna cave.”

“Might,” Joel muttered, grabbing another flake of hay. “But you’re pluckin’ the damn birds.”

“Deal.”

“C’mon,” you murmured, brushing hay from your hands. The sun hung lower now, casting long golden streaks through the slats in the barn. “We’ve worked hard enough for one day.”

Joel looked at you, one corner of his mouth tipping up in that slow, familiar way, and gave a slight nod. Without a word, he reached out, his calloused hand slipping easily into yours. 

Neither of you spoke as you walked back toward the house, the worn path beneath your boots soft with dust, the last of the chickens clucking softly in the yard. The quiet between you was filled with little touches. Joel’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand. Your shoulder bumping his. The occasional glance traded like secrets.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of woodsmoke and something sweet from the pie you had made earlier. You slipped into the kitchen while Joel stoked the fire, grabbing ingredients with practiced ease.

“Hope you washed up good,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder as he came to stand beside you, sleeves rolled up, hair mussed from the wind.

Joel snorted, holding his hands up. “Clean as I’m gonna get,” he drawled, though you caught the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Uh-huh.” You reached for his wrist, pulling his hand toward you to inspect it like you might catch a stray bit of dirt. “Hmm. Debatable.”

He stepped in close, hand slipping to your waist, his voice dropping low. “You wanna check me head to toe, darlin’, just say the word.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest with the dish towel, but your heart ached a little at the easy, worn-in affection of it all of having him here, cooking dinner like any other ordinary night in a world that hadn’t offered many of those.

“Maybe later,” you whispered, giving him a smile that held a little more than teasing.

Joel’s gaze lingered on yours a moment longer, something quiet and certain in it, before he turned to start chopping vegetables. The two of you moved around the kitchen with ease. 

After dinner, your mind was already drifting toward a hot bath and a quiet night in bed — a book in your hands, Joel’s arm heavy around your waist, the world kept at bay. You started up the stairs, stretching your arms above your head, when a warm, calloused hand caught you gently by the wrist.

“C’mere,” Joel said, his voice a little rough, but soft in that way he saved just for you.

You turned, one brow lifting, a smile tugging at your lips as you took in the look on his face — part mischievous, part tender, eyes shining in the room's low light. “What’s that look for?”

He didn’t answer; he just tilted his head slightly. “Just… c’mere.”

Curiosity bloomed in your chest as you let him tug you along, following him toward the living room. The fire there burned low, casting warm, flickering light across the old wood floor. Joel moved to the corner, crouching by the old record player he’d scavenged years back on some long-forgotten patrol. The thing had scratches on the wood and a crack in the lid, but it still functioned properly.

A worn copy of Otis Redding’s These Arms Of Mine sat beside it, the vinyl already resting in place.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your brow furrowing as he dropped the needle. The soft, familiar crackle filled the room before the first notes hummed through the air.

Joel didn’t say a word. He just turned to you, held out a hand, and waited.

Your heart gave one of those quiet, aching stutters in your chest, and you crossed the room without thinking, slipping your hand into his.

His other hand settled at your waist, pulling you close, your bodies fitting together. The music wrapped around you both, the gentle sway of the melody guiding your steps as Joel led you in a slow, unhurried dance.

His thumb traced soft circles at the small of your back, his breath warm against your temple. You closed your eyes, your head resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart syncing with the song's rhythm. The world outside the house, the years of danger and loss, all slipped away in the quiet safety of his arms.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” Joel said against your hair, his voice a little hoarse, like maybe it caught in his throat before it made it out.

You smiled, tilting your face up to his. “Takes one to know one, Miller.”

He chuckled before kissing your forehead. 

“Since someone’s in a good mood—” you started, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Joel shook his head before you could finish, a knowing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“C’mon,” you coaxed, tipping your head back to look up at him, eyes shining with mock-innocence. “Just once. Please?”

“I’m too old for that shit,” Joel drawled, though his hands stayed firm at your waist, his thumb brushing soft circles against your hip. “You try jumpin’ on me, we’ll both be flat on our asses before you even leave the ground.”

You pouted, leaning into him, arms looping around his neck. “Alright, fine,” you sighed dramatically, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “But a woman can dream.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he dipped his face close, his stubble scratching against your cheek. “You keep dreamin’,” he said, his voice teasing, but full of affection. “Ain’t no way I’m recreatin’ some damn Dirty Dancing scene.”

You grinned, swaying in his arms as the record crackled on. “You’re no fun.”

“Mm,” Joel smirked, pulling you closer, his hand sliding down to the small of your back. “That so? I seem to recall you weren’t complainin’ about my kind of fun last night.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you laughed, pressing your forehead to his chest. “Point taken.”

He hummed, content. The two of you were still swaying long after the song faded out, the world narrowed down to the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you.

The ride to Jackson wasn’t far. Just a few miles of winding trail through dense trees and open fields, but it never felt easy. Even with Joel at your side, the moment you crossed beyond the fence line of your land, a familiar unease crept in like a second skin.

You rode atop Dusty, his ears flicking with every distant sound, while Joel kept pace beside you on Apollo, his rifle slung over one shoulder. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. The only sound was the soft clop of hooves against the dirt path and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.

It was always quiet on these rides — a silence born not from peace, but necessity. Both of you scanning the tree line, eyes flicking to the shadows, muscles tensed in that old, familiar way you never quite unlearned.

Joel rode like a man still expecting the worst. He never admitted it or spoke it aloud, but you saw it in the tight set of his jaw, how his broad shoulders stayed stiff beneath his jacket, how his gaze never stopped moving — left, right, behind, and always watching, counting.

He hated leaving the farm. Hated stepping away from the safety of what you'd built together. But he wouldn’t leave you to ride in alone either. Not a chance in hell.

You nudged Dusty a little closer, your knee brushing his for a fleeting second. Joel glanced over, and for a beat, his face softened. That quiet look that only ever seemed meant for you. A flicker of warmth in otherwise storm-weathered eyes.

“Should be an easy ride,” he muttered, though you both knew it wasn’t about the distance.

You gave a small nod, your fingers tightening around the reins. “It better be,” you replied, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

He snorted, a sound more habit than humor, but the tension in his shoulders eased by a hair.

Eventually, Jackson's worn timber walls came into view, rising from the trees like a promise of safety. Smoke drifted from chimneys, the faint clang of metal on metal carried on the wind, and the murmur of life happening just out of sight.

You and Joel approached the gates, the patrolmen up top giving curt, familiar nods as you passed beneath. One of them tipped his hat, and Joel returned it with a lift of his hand. His expression was unreadable, but his posture was a touch looser than it had been on the trail.

Joel swung down from Apollo with practiced ease, boots hitting the packed dirt with a soft thud. He tied the reins to a post, his movements quick and efficient, like he couldn’t shed the tension of the ride fast enough. Before you could swing your leg to dismount, he was already there, one hand steadying Dusty’s bridle while the other reached up for you.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low but roughened by the morning’s quiet.

You let him help you down, your hands briefly finding his shoulders as his firm grip circled your waist. When your boots touched the ground, you muttered, “Thank you,” a small smile tugging at your lips.

He gave a soft grunt, the corner of his mouth twitching as his hands lingered at your waist a beat longer than necessary. “Course, darlin’.”

You reached to brush a bit of dust off your thigh, suddenly remembering. “Dammit, I forgot—”

Joel cut you off with a slight shake of his head, already anticipating you. “I remembered,” he said, a faint grin pulling at his mouth as he tipped his head toward the stables. “Told Ellie last time she was by to bring four chickens back for that damn coffee trade.”

You huffed a laugh, leaning closer as you stepped beside him. “You’re a good husband, Miller.”

Joel slung an arm loosely around your shoulders as you made your way toward the town square, the scent of fresh bread and woodsmoke filling the air around you. 

The trade went through without much trouble — four chickens handed over, a large sack of precious coffee beans in return — though Joel grumbled about it the whole damn time.

“Can’t believe we’re givin’ up good layers for this,” he muttered, eyeing the beans like they might disappear before he could get them home.

You just chuckled, shaking your head in quiet amusement as you looped your arm through his, steering him toward the rest of your errands. “You’ll be singin’ a different tune when you’ve got a hot cup in your hands tomorrow morning.”

Joel grunted, but the corner of his mouth twitched, the hint of a smile breaking through his usual gruffness.

The two of you spent the next hour wandering Jackson’s main street, gathering what you needed — extra nails from the smithy, a spool of thread from Susan’s store, dried herbs Dina swore would help settle JJ’s fussy nights. 

By the time you stepped into the dining hall, the warmth from the fire inside wrapped around you like an old quilt. The scent of stew lingered in the air, mixing with fresh bread and something sweet baking in the back.

“Heard from Ellie y’all were comin’ into town,” a familiar voice called, and you looked up to see Tommy striding over, a wide grin splitting his face.

Joel met him halfway, the two men pulling each other into a rough, back-patting hug.

“Tommy,” Joel grunted, patting his brother’s back twice before stepping back, though the warmth in his eyes lingered.

You smiled, watching the easy way they fell into step together. It wasn’t always like this between them, but lately, it was better. Softer around the edges.

“Good to see you,” you said, squeezing Tommy’s arm.

“You too,” Tommy grinned. “C’mon, Maria’s around here somewhere. And Ellie’s been talkin’ about that coffee since sunrise.”

Joel rolled his eyes with a huff, but his hand brushed against yours as he moved to follow Tommy. You laced your fingers with his without a word, and Joel didn’t let go.

It was simple. Easy. Cozy in a way you never took for granted anymore — a full meal, the warmth of good company, and the quiet comfort of knowing you belonged to this small, stubborn patch of world.

By the time you, Joel, Tommy, and Maria stepped out of the dining hall, the evening light had faded to a dusky gold. The air had cooled, lanterns flickered along the street, casting soft pools of light as folks made their way home for the night.

“Y’all should stay here,” Tommy offered, leaning casually against the porch rail with a hopeful grin. “We’ve still got that extra room fixed up. Warm bed, decent mattress. Better than ridin’ back in the dark.”

Maria gave a slight nod, folding her arms, her gaze slipping between you and Joel. “Wouldn’t hurt to stay in town now and then.”

Joel shifted his weight, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back. “Nah,” he said, his voice low but kind. “We need to get back. Y’know I don’t like leavin’ the farm alone too long.”

You gave a soft smile, leaning a little into his side. “Yeah. It’s a quick ride. We’ll be fine.”

There was a brief pause where you could feel unspoken words hanging in the air. Tommy let out a breath, shaking his head like he knew better than to push. Maria’s mouth twitched in reluctant amusement.

“Stubborn as ever,” Tommy muttered, a grin tugging at his lips.

Joel gave him a look — half fond, half warning. “Runs in the family.”

That earned a quiet laugh from Maria, who stepped forward to press a hand to your arm. “You two be careful.”

“Always,” you promised with a soft squeeze of her hand.

Joel tipped his chin at Tommy. “We’ll be by the end of next week with those tools you wanted.”

Tommy clapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll hold you to it.”

You and Joel made your way toward the horses, the quiet hum of Jackson winding down behind you. Lanterns glowed in windows, soft voices fading as folks headed home, and the cool night air settled gently against your skin. The path back to the farm stretched ahead. 

You caught Joel squinting as he adjusted Apollo’s reins, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowing toward the shadowed trail beyond the gate.

“Should’ve worn your glasses,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

Joel huffed, shooting you a look as he swung into the saddle. “Don’t need glasses. It’s dark.”

You mounted Dusty, leaning slightly in your saddle to smirk at him. “That why you’re squintin’ like an old man tryin’ to read fine print?”

Joel’s glare wasn’t the least convincing. “Keep talkin’, woman,” he grumbled, though his voice was thick with amusement. “See how far that gets you.”

“Probably about halfway home before you admit I’m right,” you teased, nudging Dusty forward with a light kick.

Joel clicked his tongue at Apollo, riding up alongside you, his posture loose now, some of the tension from earlier replaced by the easy banter between you.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, giving your reins a playful tug as he passed.

You grinned into the darkness, heart warm in your chest. “I know.”

Together, you rode out into the night, the stars scattered above like pinpricks in velvet, the world around you hushed and still. The only sounds were the steady clop of hooves on packed earth and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The cool night air brushed against your cheeks, carrying the scent of pine and distant woodsmoke.

For a while, neither of you spoke; it was the kind of easy, companionable silence you had both grown accustomed to over the years. But as the trail stretched and the landmarks shifted in your periphery, a faint prickle of doubt worked under your skin.

You glanced around, frowning as you recognized a familiar old tree, crooked and leaning with a wide, twisted branch that reached out like a bent arm.

“Joel,” you called softly, pulling Dusty closer. “You’re headin’ the wrong way.”

Joel grunted, squinting ahead as he kept Apollo moving. “No, I ain’t. I know this path like the back of my hand.”

You raised a brow, nudging Dusty so you rode side by side. “I know you do, but we just passed that big split oak instead of the hollow stump by the fork. Which means…” You gestured ahead with a chin tilt, “We’re headed toward Flat’s Creek. Not home.”

Joel slowed Apollo to a stop, turning his head just enough to glance at you. His brow furrowed in mild irritation.

“You wanna say you don’t need glasses again?” you teased, a gentle, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Joel let out a sharp breath, shaking his head as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Goddamn trees all look the same in the dark.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, leaning in a little. “I can lead us back, old man. No shame in lettin’ me take point.”

Joel gave you a flat look, but the affection in his eyes softened it. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, unable to keep smiling as you reached out and let your hand brush his arm. “C’mon. I’ll get us home.”

Joel sighed, a low, fond sound as he let you take the lead. He muttered something you didn’t catch, falling beside you as you turned Dusty toward the right path.

You stirred, furrowing your brow at the emptiness beside you. The bed was still warm where he’d been, but the absence of his steady weight made the room feel too big. You blinked up at the ceiling, the faint glow of dying embers from the hearth down the hall casting a soft flicker of light across the walls.

It wasn’t the first time.

Joel had nights like this. Nights where old ghosts kept him restless, where the quiet pressed too close. Sometimes it was bad dreams, other times just that wired, sharp-edged instinct neither of you had ever truly shaken. He’d slip out of bed without a word, wander the house, check the locks, listen to the night.

You lay there a while, eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling, hoping you’d hear the floorboards creak and feel him settle in beside you again.

But he didn’t.

With a sigh, you slid out of bed, bare feet brushing the cool wood floor. You grabbed his flannel from the back of the chair, pulling it over your shoulders, the scent of him wrapping around you.

The house was quiet, save for the soft pop of the last logs in the stove. A lantern on the kitchen table cast a faint, wavering light, shadows dancing across the walls as you padded through the hallway.

You caught a flicker of movement through the window.

There he was—Joel, sitting in the old chair on the porch, the rifle leaning against the house nearby. His shoulders were hunched, one hand wrapped around a half-forgotten mug of coffee gone cold, his gaze fixed on something far beyond the dark tree line.

You hesitated, your hand resting on the window frame. You knew that look. He wasn’t really seeing the night, not anymore. He was someplace else.

Grabbing a blanket off the couch, you pushed open the door, the night air cool against your skin.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked softly, not wanting to startle him.

Joel turned his head, his eyes meeting yours in the low light. Unsurprisingly, he’d heard you coming before you stepped onto the porch. He reached a hand out toward you, palm open in silent invitation.

You smiled faintly, moving toward him and settling yourself in his lap without a word. His arms came around you automatically, pulling the blanket over your shoulders, tucking you in against his chest like he’d been waiting for you to do just that.

Your eyes drifted to the rifle, propped against the house within reach. “You hear somethin’?” you murmured, your brow creasing as your hand brushed his forearm.

Joel exhaled, the sound rough and tired. “Just a few elk movin’ through,” he muttered. But his eyes didn’t leave the treeline.

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the tension still coiled tight in him.

“It’s not them,” you whispered, because sometimes you both needed to hear it.

“I know,” he said, and you felt it in the way his arms tightened around you and his lips brushed the top of your hair. “Doesn’t stop my head from goin’ there sometimes.”

“Mine too.”

You both sat in the quiet, the night pressing around you, familiar and heavy but softened by the warmth between your bodies. The wind rattled the branches in the distance, but here on the porch, wrapped up together, it felt a little safer.

A little easier to breathe.

Joel sighed, tipping his chin against your temple. “Guess neither of us’ll ever fully shake it.”

“No,” you said, your voice barely more than a hush between you. “Ain’t easy lettin’ your guard down. Not after all this time. But I wanna be here… with you. Always here.”

Joel said nothing, but his hand found yours under the blanket, fingers threading together as he held you closer. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the simple weight of his hand in yours and the warmth of his body against your back. The old ache—that restless worry, the quiet fear that one day the world might come for what you built—lingered. It always would. You both knew it. The ghosts never stayed buried for long.

But here with Joel’s arm around you, and the steady sound of his breathing, it was enough. You wouldn’t trade this life with him for anything else.

The night stretched quietly around you, the wind carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. Joel shifted, pressing a soft, unhurried kiss to your temple.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured. “Let’s head in. Reckon it’s cold as hell out here.”

You smiled against his chest. “Not so bad, long as you’re here.”

Joel gave a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling through you as he helped you to your feet. The blanket was still wrapped around you both as you stepped inside. The porch light flickered out behind you as the old house settled with a sigh.

taglist: @probablyreadinsmut @lowrisemiller @millersdoll @daddypascal17 @mystickittytaco @risingwolf97

[negansdarlin]

Out in the wilderness w joel miller

[negansdarlin]

ellie’s community…

[negansdarlin]

Genuine question tho are u also obsessed w JDM as much as u r obsessed w Negan?

YES, i LOVE him so much, loved him in the boys and watchmen, he's genuinely one of my all time favourite celebs and i'll jump to watch anything he is in 😭

[negansdarlin]

Manifesting an older mannnn

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[negansdarlin]

love notes

pairings joel miller x sunshine!reader

summary soft little pieces of his heart as little love letters tucked into your every day. he never asks if you found them. you always do. and he always knows. he’s always there.

tags lots of fluff, quiet love notes, domestic moments, and joel being sweet. set in jackson, post-outbreak. established relationship, and lots of gentle, everyday affection. love in the little things. acts of service as love language, he loves you in silence, quiet love notes, post-it note romance. gets spicier.

masterlist dividers by: @uzmacchiato

you groan as you shuffle into the kitchen, sleep still clinging to your limbs. the coffee tin’s half empty, same as your energy.

you pop the lid and something flutters out. a folded scrap of paper, taped to the inside.

you unfold it, his handwriting unmistakable.

“hope this makes your morning a little better. like you always make mine.”

you lean against the counter, smiling into the quiet, coffee forgotten for just a moment. he grumbles from the other room.

“you find it?”

you call back, voice warm. “yeah. i did.”

“good,” he says. “was worried it’d fall into the grounds.”

it’s laundry day. again. you’re folding socks when one of yours feels heavier than usual. you tug at it—and out falls a tiny square of paper.

“you wear the warmest things but you’re still the one keepin’ this place cozy.”

you glance toward the door where he’s chopping firewood, sleeves rolled, hair a mess. he doesn’t see you watching—but he pauses like he feels it.

you slip the note into your back pocket. you’ll keep it. like you keep him.

you’re brushing your teeth when you spot it. a square of paper tucked into the edge of the mirror behind your toothbrush cup.

it wasn’t there this morning.

you pull it free, toothpaste foam threatening to spill from your mouth.

“every time you smile into this mirror, i fall in love again.”

you’re still holding the note when joel walks by, pauses in the doorway. he doesn’t say anything and just watches you smile.

you rinse and mutter, “you’re such a sap.”

you open the fridge after dinner, just to peek. one slice of pie is left, barely hanging on. there’s a sticky note taped right to the container.

“left you the last piece ’cause you always let me have the first.”

you turn around to find joel pretending to be very busy wiping down the table.

you hold up the pie. “you’re trying to make me cry over dessert?”

he shrugs. “worked?”

you kiss his cheek. “might’ve.”

it’s late. you’re tucking an extra blanket into the corner chair, the one by the window.

something crinkles beneath the cushion — and when you lift it, a folded note slides free.

“this is the spot where i first knew you felt like home.”

you sit there for a while, blanket draped across your lap, eyes misty.

joel finds you minutes later, leans on the doorframe.

“you remember?”

you nod. “i never forgot.”

he walks over and pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

“me neither.”

you’re changing the sheets when you find it — a tiny folded note tucked deep in the pillowcase.

it must’ve been hiding there for a while.

“just in case you ever forget how much i love you."

your hands still. the quiet hum of the house fills the space where your breath used to be.

joel walks in, drying his hands on a dish towel. he sees you holding the note and stops in his tracks.

“you weren’t supposed to find that so soon,” he mumbles.

you smile, hugging the paper to your chest.

he walks over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “i’m glad you did.”

it’s pouring outside. the kind of steady, peaceful rain that softens the world. you’re curled up on the couch, blanket tucked under your chin, mug of tea balanced in your hands.

inside the mug’s handle, a little square of folded paper.

“you make rainy days feel like sunshine.”

you blink, surprised. then glance toward the kitchen, where joel is drying dishes with a quiet smile on his face.

“you hid it in my mug?” you ask, grinning.

“figured you’d need something sweet before the tea cooled.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

he taps your shoulder gently on his way past. “and you’re the light in this house.”

you wake up late, sun pouring through the curtains. joel’s not in bed but his warmth still lingers in the sheets.

on the nightstand is a note in his handwriting, folded neatly over a coaster.

“you talk in your sleep. last night you said my name like it was a prayer.”

you’re still holding the paper when he walks in with two mugs.

“you sleep okay?” he asks, gently.

you nod, eyes soft. “dreamed of you, i think.”

he hums. “guess we were dreamin’ the same thing.”

you’re getting ready for a short patrol, slipping your jacket on when something crunches in the pocket.

you dig around and pull out a folded napkin, wrapped around a crinkled note and two homemade granola bars.

“i packed the snacks you like. don’t tell ellie i stole hers.”

you laugh, pressing your lips together so it doesn’t escape too loud.

joel’s sitting on the steps, tying his boots. he glances up at you.

you lean down and kissed his lips.

“you’re sweet when you’re sneaky.”

you’re slipped into your coat for a walk, just to clear your head — the kind of quiet escape you’ve both learned to recognize in each other.

your fingers brush paper tucked in the pocket.

it’s small, folded once, his handwriting scratched a little messier than usual.

“you always know how to calm me down. even when i don’t say i need it.”

then you hear his footsteps behind you.

he doesn’t say anything, just lowers himself beside you. his thigh presses gently into yours. his hand finds yours.

it’s late, and you’re ready for bed.

a note.

folded once. the edges soft from fingers lingering too long. there’s a smudge of ink where his thumb probably pressed too hard.

you unfold it and read:

“i ain’t never been good at sayin’ things. but i hope you feel it anyway.”

it’s not long. it’s not fancy.

but it’s everything.

you slip quietly out of the room and find him in the kitchen, stirring sugar into a cup of tea.

he looks up, and for a second, he doesn’t say anything. just studies your face, like he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking.

you don’t say anything either. you walk right up, wrap your arms around him, and hold him like he’s something soft.

and fragile.

and home.

he exhales slowly into your hair, the tension in his shoulders easing. his arms come around you like they were always meant to.

he doesn’t ask if you read it. he doesn’t need to.

you felt it.

late autumn, jackson’s first snowfall.

you wake up to the hush that only snow brings. outside the window, the world is blanketed in fresh white.

you went into the kitchen, chilled but curious, and find a note stuck to the coffee tin with a magnet shaped like a crooked heart.

“happy first snow. i remembered you said it’s your favorite.”

you smile instantly, remembering how you once told joel, offhandedly, barely even thinking that the first snow always felt a little magical.

behind you, the door creaks and he steps inside, boots dusted white, cheeks pink from the cold.

you laugh and launch into his arms before he can shake the cold off.

your one-year anniversary.

you’re not expecting anything. you’d said no fuss. just a quiet day, maybe dinner if the power stays on.

but when you open the drawer, a piece of worn paper flutters out.

“one year ago today, you looked at me and smiled. i’m still not over it.”

your heart stutters.

joel walks in behind you. he’s trying not to smile.

“turn around, sweetheart. ”

a bouquet of fresh flowers.

you step forward and rest your forehead against his chest. “i love you, joel.”

he presses a kiss into your hair, voice low and rough. “i love you more.”

“had a bad dream. didn’t want to wake you. just needed to know you were real.”

found under your pillow after you noticed the sheets were rumpled more than usual.

you sleep in longer than usual. joel was gone when you woke, though the sheets were warm, the air still held the weight of him.

joel comes in moments later, mug in hand, eyes a little tired.

“i didn’t mean to wake you last night,” he says gently.

he sits beside you.

“didn’t want to ruin your sleep.”

“you’re never a ruin,” you whisper, and rest your head on his shoulder.

the sun is warm. you’re humming in the garden patch behind the house, talking to the squash vines like they’re old friends.

“you talk to the plants when you think no one’s listening. they like it. i do too.”

found tucked into your gardening gloves.

you blink, unfolding it carefully.

you glance toward the porch, and sure enough. joel’s sitting on the steps, arms resting on his knees, watching you with that crooked half-smile that never fully reaches his mouth unless he’s looking at you.

“you’re spying again,” you tease.

he shrugs. “i am, and proudly.”

you wrap the scarf around your neck on the first chilly morning of the season. something falls out and flutters to the floor.

a note, tucked between the folds.

“didn’t think i’d ever like autumn again. then you came with your damn scarves and apple pie.”

found folded inside the knit scarf you always wear once the leaves start turning.

you smile, heart thumping. he’s out front, sleeves rolled, cheeks pink from the wind.

you walk out, scarf tight, and toss an apple slice his way.

he catches it mid-air. “you find it?”

“yup,” you say, cheeks warm.

he smirks. “only for you.”

you didn’t make it to midnight. neither did he. you both nodded off tangled under a blanket and empty glasses nearby.

the next morning, you find the note slipped under your glass, a tiny smudge of ash on the corner.

“you're the first person i wanted to kiss 24/7. still do.”

found under your glass on new years morning.

you walk into the kitchen, where joel’s already making breakfast, hair sticking up at odd angles.

you say nothing, just wrap your arms around him from behind and press a kiss to the back of his neck.

“mornin’,”

“happy new year, miller.”

the sun’s out for the first time in weeks. you’re on your knees in the dirt, planting the tiny new shoots you bartered for at the last jackson market. you reach under the flower box to adjust its footing and feel paper brush your fingers.

“spring makes everything bloom. you make me soften.”

found under the porch flower box when you’re planting the first seeds of the year.

you glance up, heart doing that fluttery thing again.

joel’s watching you from the porch, arms crossed, trying not to look obvious.

you hold the note up like a trophy.

“i’m gonna start putting you in a flower box if you keep saying stuff like this.”

he chuckles. “least i’d get some sun.”

you catch him red-handed.

you’re pretending to look for the cinnamon, but really, you’re watching joel from the corner of your eye.

he’s in the living room. thinks you’re distracted. he pulls a note from his back pocket. worn and folded just like all the others and carefully tucks it into your current read on the side table.

you wait until he leaves the room. then you grab the book and open it to find:

“you caught me this time.”

you smile, heart full to the brim, and tiptoe into the hallway.

he’s already halfway up the stairs. you call out, “joel?”

he turns. you hold up the note.

“i think you’re due for a kiss.”

he raises a brow. “that so?”

you nod. “caught you fair and square.”

he smiles wide, just for you.

you press it to your chest, eyes warm. “you don’t have to hide them, you know.”

he shrugs. “kinda liked the hunt.”

you grin and slip your arms around his waist. “then next time, i’m leaving you a note.”

his eyebrows lift. “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “but good luck finding mine.” you’re true to your word.

the next morning, joel is suspicious from the moment he wakes. his coffee is poured, breakfast warm on the table, but you’re suspiciously chipper.

grinning behind your mug like you know something he doesn’t.

because you do.

he pretends not to notice. you pretend you didn’t spend twenty minutes figuring out where to hide the note without him spotting you.

he checks his boots. his coat pockets. even lifts the lid of the sugar jar like maybe you got creative. nothing.

you say nothing. just kiss his cheek and remind him to be careful on patrol.

he kisses you back, lingers a second longer than usual.

when he came back, you found him hunched over the kitchen table, brow furrowed like he’s working a puzzle. he doesn’t even hear you walk in

“you looking for something?”

he glances up, caught again. “i might be.”

you hum, lean against the doorway, smug.

“maybe you just missed it.”

you step closer, brush a curl from his forehead. “want a hint?”

he tilts his chin, inviting. “hit me.”

you lean in and whisper against his ear. “page 237.”

and went outside.

you’d caught him rereading it late at night, the pages softened by time and thumbed-through affection.

he finds the note folded neatly at the page you marked, stuck between a paragraph about dust and distance.

"even when you’re quiet, i hear you. even when you’re gone, i feel you between my legs, in my chest, under my skin. you ruin me, and i want more. always.”

“jesus, baby…” he murmurs, almost to himself.

joel reads it twice. folds it once more, careful, and tucks it into his back pocket like it belongs there—like it always did.

by the time you walk into the room—barefoot and innocent like you didn’t just unravel him with one line. joel's still holding the note.

he looks up at you, eyes a little glossy, a little wide. stunned in that quiet joel kind of way. all softness and awe and love that has nowhere to go but into you.

“you tryna start something, sweetheart?”

you shrug, lazy and sweet. “maybe i’m just reminding you.”

his hand finds your waist. then your throat. gentle, possessive, reverent.

“remindin’ me of what?”

you lean in, lips brushing his jaw, whispering the answer against his skin:

“that i'm yours and you're mine. always.”

joel groans low in his throat. you swear you feel it echo through your bones.

“you ever gonna stop leaving these?” he murmurs, voice thick with something softer than sleep.

“not unless you want me to.”

he shakes his head, gaze pinned to you like you hung the damn moon. “don’t you dare.”

"you too."

“come here,” he mutters, already walking you backward toward the bedroom. “you started it, baby. now you finish it.”

and you do.

with nothing but quiet gasps, loud moans, the sound of skin coated with sweat slapping and the rustle of worn sheets and the sound of joel loving you.

[negansdarlin]

he is just so goddamn gorgeous

[negansdarlin]

Glad you enjoyed itt shes got other REALLYYY good fics! Anywayy have you seen dead city season 2 yet?

I'll definitely read more of her stuff thank you sm! YEP OMG!! im so glad its finally hereeee!!

[negansdarlin]

oh my GOD

PEDRO PASCAL at the ‘Die, My Love’ after party at Cannes

[negansdarlin]

I have alot of other Negan fics if you'd like i'll gladly share them to you because theyre in my likes. Just tell me what you're into and ill find it

YES PLS!!!!! literally any and i'll take a look, need my fix of nagan fics