rensraptor

[rensraptor]

fucksgiving 2023

shoutout to @justagalwhowrites for coining the term :)

please enjoy a short filthy drabble to get you flustered at the dinner table on this fine american thanksgiving day

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, dirty talk with almost zero plot, daddy kink (no one is surprised), boyfriend's dad!joel, light choking, petnames, degredation, allusion to smut

word count: 332

divider by @saradika

“The fuck do you think you’re doin’, hm?” Joel questions in a gravelly half-whisper, approaching from behind as you lean over his kitchen counter, propped up on your elbows. You had excused yourself from the table less than a minute ago, flashing him a flirty little wink as you stood up, a silent cue for him to follow you.

“Me? Wh– what do you mean?” You spin around to face him and bat your eyelashes in a display of feigned innocence, one he sees right through without even trying.

“Been testin’ me all goddamn evenin’, now you’re bent over in front of me like that, flashin’ me your soaked pussy under that slutty lil’ skirt… Too much of a fuckin’ whore to care that your boyfriend’s in the next room, ain’t that right?”

“Ew, why are you even looking up my skirt in the first place, old man?” you tease. Before you have a chance to release a full string of giggles, Joel’s large hand is wrapped around your neck, trapping your breath where it hitches in your throat.

“Drop the fuckin’ act, gettin’ tired of your bratty ass attitude. Callin’ me an old man like it doesn’t fuckin’ turn you on… Your daddy don’t pay enough attention to you at home, got you actin’ out, that it?”

You can’t help the involuntary whimper that slips from your parted lips at that word, the one you've been muttering to yourself late at night with your hand buried between your legs, thinking about your boyfriend’s father.

“Yeah? That do somethin’ for ya? Slutty lil’ girl needs a Daddy to put her in her place, don’t she? You got a thing for old men, babygirl, that it?”

“Uh huh, please, Daddy,” you manage to squeak out, Joel’s massive hand around your throat making you feel lightheaded and pliant.

“On your knees for me, baby, let Daddy teach you a fuckin’ lesson… act like a goddamn whore in his house, you get treated like one…”

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe if you see this, it won't let me tag you :(

[rensraptor]

Pedro Pascal as DIETER BRAVO in The Bubble (2022)

[rensraptor]

convulsing and sobbing i’m gonna pass out in my lecture 😭💞🫶

safe and sound

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your daughter has a nightmare—her daddy makes it all better.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. set in Jackson. slight canon age deviations (Joel is 56, Ellie is 17) READER’S AGE IS NOT SPECIFIED. she’s a child bearing adult woman so do with that information what you will. established relationship, reader and Joel have a toddler (her age is not specified in fic but she’s 3 ish years old), reader has NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION and neither does their child except she has Joel’s eyes and his dark curls, no mentions of her skintone. Joel and Ellie are fine bc he deserves it, Joel’s an overprotective girl dad, reader is the chill parent. implications of a toddler being told about clickers, bad dreams, almost smut, Joel and reader get cockblocked, SOFT Joel who comforts his babygirl, mention of Sarah towards the end. very minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: listen, i love me some daddy joel but tonight i needed a bit of actual daddy joel. this was whipped up last minute bc i haven’t had the best weekend and needed some comfort. also i didn’t have the mental capacity or energy to come up with a moodboard, so gif it is.

Joel looks down at the old, worn book in his hand.

Winnie the Pooh.

He never would have imagined it. This.

Reading a bedtime story to a toddler. His toddler.

He’s in his fifties—he shouldn’t have a toddler.

He shouldn’t have a teenager, either.

Yet, he has both.

The toddler has his blood, the teenager doesn’t.

But that doesn’t matter to him.

Joel still considers her to be his own kid.

Only, she’s not a kid anymore, not really.

She’s seventeen now. She doesn’t need him much anymore, not the way that his toddler needs him.

“Ellie’s not coming home tonight,” you’d said from where you stood at the stove, stirring in chunks of potato and chopped carrots into the pot of stew in front of you. “There’s a birthday party down at the bar. She’s going with Dina and Jesse.” You can feel the look of disapproval on his face and add, “I said she could go, Joel. She asked me permission.”

“She didn’t ask me,” he’d gruffed. He looked down at the little girl sitting in his lap, scribbling away on an old state map. He had given it to her along with the pack of crayons he’d found during patrol when his group stumbled across a schoolhouse. Though crumbling on the outside, the inside had remained untouched throughout the last two decades—little coats hanging over the back of little chairs, papers scattered all over little desks, little lunch boxes still stored in their cubbies at the back of the room. He instructed the group to search for anything useful, anything that Jackson’s teachers could use for the children in their classrooms. Joel knew that taking without trading was against the rules, but that did nothing to stop him from secretly slipping the box of crayons into his jacket pocket when no one had been looking.

His daughter’s squeals of delight when he’d gifted them to her had been well worth the theft.

“Because she knew you’d say no to her.”

“I would have. Kid’s got no business going to a bar at her age. She’s fuckin’ seventeen years ol—”

The little girl had gasped and stopped coloring.

“Daddy said a bad word.”

You’d turned around and glared at him. “He did.”

She looked up at him with her wide, brown eyes.

Those she’d gotten from him. His dark curls too.

Everything else?

Her smile, her nose, her softness?

That was all you.

“M’sorry, babygirl,” he apologized, sheepishly.

“S’okay, daddy.”

And back to coloring she went.

“Joel, let’s face it. Ellie’s growing up. She’s turning eighteen in a few months and truth is, she has one foot out the door.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the counter. “She was telling me how she wants to turn the garage into her own space.”

“There a reason she ain’t talkin’ to me ‘bout this?”

You’d smiled wistfully at him.

“Because she knows this is hard for you, Joel.”

It is hard. Because even though she isn’t his, she’s his and he’s afraid to lose her somehow.

Joel manages to snap himself out of his thoughts.

Rosemary’s now fast asleep, her well loved stuffed bunny rabbit wrapped in her arms. She’s a handful for him during bedtime—she has too much energy and most nights, you have to step in and help him. But tonight, after her bath, he had warmed a glass of milk for her to drink and it seemed to have done the trick because within minutes of him reading to her, her eyes fluttered closed.

Joel sets the book down and leans over to brush a kiss onto her cheek, quietly whispering goodnight. “Sweet dreams, babygirl.”

He switches off the lamp on the bedside table and steps out of his child’s bedroom, being careful not to wake her as he closes the door behind him.

“I still can’t believe she fell asleep within minutes,” you say, staring at him in utter disbelief. “How?”

“Gave her a glass of warm milk before I tucked her into bed,” Joel explains, tugging on a pair of faded black sweatpants. He peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before climbing into bed. “Worked like a fuckin’ charm. She’s out like a damn light.”

You set your book down and raise an eyebrow.

“Joel, I brushed her teeth before her bath.”

“I brushed them again after she drank it, darlin’.”

He outstretches his arm, beckoning for you.

Grinning, you scoot closer to him, draping an arm over his bare chest. “It’s only nine,” you tell him. “I have no idea what we’re going to do with all of this free time we have. Rosemary’s asleep, Ellie’s gone for the night.” You slowly drag your hand down his chest and over his stomach, a finger skimming the waistband of his sweatpants. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat and tease, “I guess we can actually get some good sleep for once, huh?”

Groaning, Joel rolls over and pins you down to the bed as he positions himself on top of you, his eyes glazed over with lust. “We can sleep,” he murmurs as his mouth hovers over yours. He reaches for the buttons of his flannel you’re wearing and begins to single-handedly pop them open only to find you’re not wearing anything underneath. He groans once more. “Or I can make you feel good. S’your choice, baby.”

You gasp as he nips at your chin and starts trailing his lips lower, peppering kisses down the length of your body. Heat blossoms in your lower belly as he settles himself between your thighs. Hooking both arms around them, he nibbles at the soft spot that is right below your navel, the spot you hate, but he adores. Having a child had changed your body and while you two seldom had time to yourselves to do anything of this nature, when you did find time, he never failed to make you feel like you were still just as beautiful to him, if not a thousand times more.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Please, Joel.”

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?”

His voice is low, husky.

Your hands reach down and tangle in his curls.

“Your mouth, Joel. Please. I need your—”

The sound of a teeny knock at the door makes you both freeze on the spot.

“You heard that, right?” you ask him breathlessly.

There’s a second teeny knock.

It’s then followed by an even teenier voice.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, scrambling off the bed. “What the hell is she doin’ out of bed?” Picking his t-shirt up from the floor, he quickly throws it on, ignoring that he’d put it on inside out. Watching you as you fumble to button his flannel, he calls, “Just give us one second babygirl, alright? We’ll be right there.”

“I’m decent,” you tell him, getting the last button.

Nodding, Joel opens the bedroom door. His knees protest when he squats down, lowering himself so that he can meet Rosemary’s tearful gaze.

“S’matter, Rosie Posie?” he asks her in a soft voice that he reserves for his girls. “What happened?”

She sniffles. “I—I had a bad dream, daddy.”

You sit on the side of bed and wait patiently.

Joel has it handled. He always has it handled.

He never stopped knowing how to be a father.

“You had a bad dream?” he repeats, frowning.

Rosemary nods, clutching her rabbit to her chest.

A single tear slips down the side of her little face.

Joel reaches out, gingerly wiping it with his finger.

“M’sorry it scared you, babygirl. Tell you what, just for tonight, how about you sleep with me and your mama in our bed? That sound good?” With a small labored grunt, he scoops her into his arms. She is getting heavier and you often tell him it’s not good for his back—he can’t care less. He’ll keep picking her up until the moment his little girl decides she’s a big girl and doesn’t want him to pick her up. Joel carries her over to the bed and sits her on your lap and reminds her, “But this is just for tonight, Rosie Posie. Tomorrow night you’re back in your own big girl bed, alright?”

“Okay,” she nods again and leans against you, tiny shoulders slumping.

“Rosie? What was your dream about?” you ask her gently, wrapping your arms around her. She hardly ever has nightmares—she’s too young to know the world outside the commune’s walls, smart but still too little to understand why she cannot go outside the gates. “What did you dream about, honey?”

She hesitates, then answers, “Monsters.”

“Monsters?” Perplexed, you glance at Joel.

He seems to be just as confused as you are.

“Who did you hear that word from, babygirl?”

“Robbie.”

Your neighbor’s unruly, troublemaker son.

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “Thought I told you he ain’t allowed to be around her. The kid is nine, ain’t got no business bein’ around Rosemary. Little brat ain’t nothin’ but a bad influence. He’s always up to no good.” He shakes his head at you. “Said I didn’t want that boy anywhere near our daughter.”

“The kids were out playing in the snow today,” you remember. “He must have been there too. It’s kind of hard to tell who is who when they’re all bundled up and flinging snowballs at each other, Joel.” You shoot him an apologetic look. “Rosie was having a blast playing with everybody—I’m sorry. I suppose I should’ve paid more attention to who was around her.”

He bites back a sigh. He knows it’s not your fault.

Rosie’s too good of a girl, too pure and innocent to know that not everybody is her friend.

“Rosie, what did Robbie say to you?”

Again, the child hesitates.

“He said—he said monsters live outside. They bite people and turn them into monsters too. He said it happened to his daddy.” Rosemary’s eyes flit from you to Joel. “He said it would happen to you, too.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “He said that to you?”

Hands curling into fists, Joel reminds himself now isn’t the time to let his anger take over. “S’not true at all, babygirl.” He reaches over and slides her out of your lap and onto his. Like you, he wants to lie—tell her those monsters she was told about are not real, that they don’t exist. But they do exist and as much as he wishes he could keep her from finding out about all that lies beyond Jackson’s walls, Joel knows that one day, she will. “Listen to me. M’real sorry to hear ‘bout Robbie’s daddy, baby. But I can promise you, that ain’t gonna happen to me.”

She points a chubby finger at you.

“What about mommy?”

“Ain’t gonna happen to her either.”

Rosemary drops her hand, fear clear in her tone as she asks the both of you, “What about me?”

“Of course not,” you say, smoothing back her dark curls. “You’re safe here, honey. As safe as can be.”

Joel nods. “Your mama’s right, darlin’. You’re safe,” he reassured her. “You’re safe and sound.”

“I am?”

He gives her body a warm, gentle squeeze. “Mhm. Always will be. Y’know how I know that, babygirl?”

“How?”

“‘Cause. As long as daddy’s around, he will always protect you,” he promises her. “He’ll never, ever let anythin’ bad happen to you, Rosie. I swear it.” Joel kisses the top of her head, his gaze meeting yours. He murmurs his oath quietly, “On my life.”

Flashing him a small, grateful smile, you reach out and touch his forearm and he places his hand over your own.

“And mommy too?” Rosemary questions him.

“And mommy too.”

“And Ellie?”

“And Ellie,” he nods, firmly. “M’always gonna keep my girls safe. S’long as I’m around, you’re all safe.”

Rosie tiredly snuggles into his chest, yawning.

“What about you, daddy?”

“Huh?”

You squeeze his arm. “Think she’s asking you who is supposed to keep you safe, Joel.”

The little girl nods sleepily. “Yeah. Who?”

“Well.” Joel’s throat bobs nervously. He knows the moment he says what he’s about to say, there’s no going back. Not that he never planned to tell Rosie about her sister, but he’d always imagined doing it when she was older and understood death. “I—uh, I have an angel in the clouds who looks out for me. She watches over me, keeps me safe and sound.”

Rosemary’s curiosity is all that is keeping her from completely passing out in his arms.

“Really? You have an angel?”

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. “Joel—”

He lightly shakes his head.

“S’fine sweetheart. I don’t mind tellin’ her.”

Rosie’s fighting to stay awake just a little longer.

“Daddy? What’s your angel’s name?”

Joel answers in the steadiest voice he can muster.

“Her name was—her name is Sarah.”

“Sarah,” she mumbles, her eyes closing. “S’pretty. Your angel has a really pretty name.”

“The prettiest name,” you agree, softly.

Rosie yawns again. “Daddy?”

“What is it, babygirl?”

“Will you tell me stories about Sarah? Please?”

Joel chuckles, rubbing her back. “I sure will. I have plenty of them to tell, Rosie Posie. But not tonight. I’ll save them for tomorrow ni—”

You cut him off “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s out cold.”

He glances down and sure enough, she’s asleep.

Moments later, the three of you are in bed. Rosie’s in the middle, curled up against Joel’s chest—your chest is pressed against her back but you’re being careful not to sandwich her in too tight in between your bodies.

In a beam of silvery moonlight shining through the bedroom window, you meet Joel’s gaze.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chucked. “For what? Doin’ my job and soothin’ our daughter after a bad dream?”

You smile at him.

“For being so good to her. To me and Ellie.” Lifting a hand, you reach over and cup the side of his face in your palm. “You’re so good to all three of us and I can’t even imagine what we’d do without you.”

Joel turns his face, brushing a kiss into your hand.

“I mean it,” he says, quietly. “S’long as I’m around, you girls will always be safe and sound.”

credit divider @saradika-graphics

[rensraptor]

i wanna sit on it

[rensraptor]

yurrppp

are you fucking kidding me.

[rensraptor]

👹pinterest tag game👹

first celebrity, outfit, quote, and aesthetic pic on Pinterest is your vibe✨

thanks for the tag @jupiter-soups 🫶

um YURRPPP 💅

no tags, no pressure 💪😼

[rensraptor]

speechless

I’m telling you right now, if you put Frankie Morales in an ot3 fic, I’m gonna read it.  I will read the shit out of it, okay?  I don’t care who else is there, I don’t care if it’s reader fic, oc, or just slash, I don’t care.  I just wanna see Frankie completely bluescreen between two people who love him and want to wreck his shit in the best way possible.

[rensraptor]

excuse me babe. if i cannot be his little housewife what is the point of this existence. THIS IS CRUEL. I FUCKING LOVE IT. 🫶✨✨🥰😍🤭👹👹😈🫦

pretty little wife | one

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

main masterlist summary: 3.9k words, a snippet of a day in the life of husband! joel and his lovely housewife warnings: 18+ MNDI! unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, cum play, spit kink, exhibition kink, dirty talk, pet names for reader, brief mention of alcohol, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: not pretending this is anything other than some little fantasy i had that i needed to write out. i'm really excited about this one shot series for husband!joel though, i have some really fun (and depraved) ideas planned for these two for future blurbs so stayed tuned if you like this one! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

How’s my pretty little wife today?

The words you look forward to each day, falling from your husbands lips in some form or another, whether it’s rasped tenderly in your ear, from between your legs as he smirks up at you, or from over your shoulder as he slams his cock into you, sending you to heaven and back down as soon as he can after walking in the door after work.  

Joel asks the question today after walking up behind you in the backyard, his mouth already next to your ear, warm breath tickling along your skin there as he brushes your hair over your shoulder. The wiry texture of his beard nuzzles right into your neck, sending a thrill down your spine as his arms slide around your waist and hold you tightly to him, swaying you back and forth. The motion is soothing, reminding you that you’re right where you’re meant to be.  

You can smell the workday on him - sweat and dirt and the outdoors, and the lingering scent of the cologne you’d given him this past Christmas. He’d sprayed it on this morning, as he does every morning since you bought it for him. Makes me think of you all day, he’d remind you while you’d watched from your bed with a teasing smile, sheet disheveled and draped over your naked body.

You breathe all of it in, savoring this scent unique to your husband, before touching your hand to where his rests around your belly and stroking it gently.

“Better now,” you answer. More times than not, that’s your response to his routine question, knowing it drives him wild, makes a long day of work ache a little less when he hears you say it.

“S’what I like to hear,” he says, a kiss on your neck leading up to your lips - a long, deep, ravenous kiss that already leaves you breathless. He pulls away so suddenly you nearly have whiplash, your head falling slightly into nothing, missing his lips.

“Smells good out here,” Joel comments, turning his nose up in the air slightly. “Usin’ the new pizza oven already?” 

When you’d made a passing comment about wishing you could make wood fired pizzas at home, just like the ones a restaurant in town serves, Joel seemed to take it seriously, as he did with most things involving your wishes and desires. The next weekend, he’d hauled in bricks and began his work. You’d stepped out into the yard when you heard all the commotion, giving him a quizzical stare, and he’d simply grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he should be building his wife a pizza oven. You’d nearly teared up, feeling grateful and giddy with excitement at your new toy to experiment with. 

Within a few weekends, Joel had finished his new project, always seeming to need one to have around the house, wiping the sweat off his forehead and gleaming with pride at it as he showed you the final product. You’d practically jumped for joy but settled on flinging yourself into his arms to show your appreciation. When that had turned into him fucking you on top of the kitchen counter moments later after he went inside to fetch a cold drink, you hadn’t minded one bit.

“I couldn’t wait,” you say with a grin. When Joel nuzzles your neck again you start to lose your train of thought. His lips press a gentle kiss right on your pulse point, and you sigh into it. “T-trying out margherita today,” you manage to squeak out.

“Hmm,” Joel says, seemingly contemplating the flavor choice in between latching his lips on your neck and sucking, marking you over and over. You’re sure the ones from mere days ago haven’t faded all the way, a smattering of them going right down to your tits, but Joel always needs a fresh mark on you as soon as they start to fade, a way for you to always remember you’re his. He grinds his hard length into your back on the next touch of his lips, and you arch into it a little, your cunt starting to ache more needily for him. 

“F-fresh basil… from the… gar-” you gasp as he pulls you completely flush against his cock, letting out a little, devious laugh.

“Sounds fuckin’ delicious, baby,” he replies. His fingers reach down and toy with the front hem of your dress, delicately sliding his calloused fingers up your thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes. The warmth of his hands on your bare skin blazes a trail up to the apex of your thighs, finally cupping a hand around your warm heat. You instinctively grind into the heel of his hand, and can practically feel Joel smirking behind you. His fingers brush the outside of your panties, starting to rub circles on the wet fabric. He lets out a low growl, deep and needy in the back of his throat feeling the evidence of how much you’d anticipated him coming home. 

“So wet for me already, huh, doll? Couldn’t wait f’me to get home ‘n take care of ya, I bet,” Joel taunts in your ear before sucking on the lobe, and you’ve gone breathless now, nodding your head. His fingers tease the edge of your panties again, finally slipping one underneath the fabric, feeling the obscenity of your wetness directly, and he lets out an impressed tut, sucking in air between his teeth. You nearly moan out at the smallest touch he’s giving you, the way his rough, worn fingers gently brush over your clit for just a split second. 

“She’s so needy, ain’t she?” Joel coos in your ear, swiping a finger to your entrance and back to your clit. You can feel how slickness quickly gathers on Joel’s digits as he teases you. You squeeze your eyes shut and lean back into him, letting your head drop to his shoulder as pleasure wracks your body already.

“Mhm… needs you,” you murmur, turning your head towards his where he meets your lips, continuing steady strokes on your aching bundle of nerves. His lips are softer than you’d think, looking at the hardened grump behind them, but like so many parts of Joel, they are only soft for you.

“Needy, needy girl… good thing I’ve been thinkin’ about gettin’ my cock in that little cunt of yours all day.”

“A-all day?” you say with a little smirk, rutting your ass back into his throbbing length, and Joel groans with the friction.

“Second I pulled out of it this mornin’,” he replies, low voice drumming against your skin, and you shudder, desperate for what you know he’s about to do.

Another routine of yours - Joel comes home from work, and more days than not, he fucks you. And you enjoy every second of it, basking in the attention and his cock filling you up in the way nobody and nothing else can. You crave him night and day, never having gotten your fill, wondering if you ever could. His hunger for you in return only fuels the fire, a vicious circle the two of you seem to have no intention of breaking.

Your weakness lies completely in the man standing behind you, burying his fingers in between your legs and making you moan out wildly before he’s even had his way with you.

“Fuck, gotta get this cock in you, baby, split you open f’me so good, fuck you stupid,” Joel grunts suddenly, interrupting your swirling thoughts, withdrawing his fingers in a flash and leaving you whimpering. It’s not fair, the way he affects you. 

Nobody should have this power over you, but the minute you’d met Joel, you couldn’t deny the way he’d made you feel. Masculine and warm, rough hands and broad shoulders that you’d clung to that same night you’d met him in a bar, fucking mere hours later in the bathroom. Even in your drunken haze you’d submitted to him fully, Joel having no problem ordering and throwing you around the bathroom like you were just a toy to play with, his little doll. You’d found that you could never look back after that night, the safety he represented to you, the adoration he showered you with, the way he fucked you like it was his last time every time. When Joel saw how willing you were to be his in the way he craved from a woman, there was no stopping the insatiable beast he became, hellbent on never letting another man feel your touch again. Joel promised you a good life, an amazing life, even, and in the last few years, he had more than delivered for you. 

“Hush now, you’ll have what you want in a second,” he says, running a quick stroke of his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug. On principle, you let out a little mewl at the sensation, too many instances of your hair being tugged and pulled with Joel involved to not recall those memories with the pain of it. You hear the jangle of his belt as he frees himself from his jeans, the familiar sound of Joel’s thick, heavy cock slapping against his hand as he fists it. You’re already cock drunk without having seen the damn thing yet, and it’s nearly laughable how pliable you are when Joel’s involved. It’s always been that way - you’ve been happy to oblige his every desire, no matter when, where, how he wanted it, or the frequency. You were his to use, to pleasure, to fuck senseless, and you got off on the way all of it steadily built his need for you just as much as it did with your need for him.

“Please…” you whine, trying to slip out of his grasp and start for the sliding glass door to the house, making the assumption that he’d be taking you inside at any moment to take what he needed from you. 

Joel immediately tightens his hold on you, a dark tut in your ear that goes straight to your clit.

“Not so fast, little doll,” he croons, hand grabbing your cunt through your dress again to hold you to him. “Right here,” he adds on, turning your body towards the outdoor dining table in the backyard. 

“J-Joel… right here?” you question, knowing you shouldn’t. It won’t matter anyways. “The… t-the neighbors…” you whimper quietly as Joel crowds you against the table, tearing your dress up over your ass, revealing your lacy little thong to him. He groans at the sight of your bare ass ready for him to claim before roughly shimmying your underwear halfway down your thighs. He places a rough hand on your back, pressing you down into the table so that you’re completely bent over, your hands splaying out into the wood to support yourself. 

“Let them see…” Joel says quietly, a heady murmur as he slips his cock between your thighs and notches himself at your weeping entrance. “Let them see how much I love fuckin’ my wife.” He pushes in on the last sentence, and you gasp at the stretch and burn of his girth. Your vision goes white for a moment with the mix of pure pain and pleasure, and your mouth hangs open, panting in delight as he fills you inch by inch. 

“Mmm… such a sweet little pussy, honey…” Joel says quietly once he’s seated fully inside of you. He’s just as lost in the bliss of it as you are. “Know I’d fuckin’ live right here if I could.”

You give him a little moan of satisfaction, wiggling your hips to give yourself any sensation of movement from his cock. He places his hands on either side of your hips, squeezing his grip tightly enough to bruise before starting to thrust himself into you. You cry out in a yelp, the noise passing though your lips before you can even control it. 

“Yeah…” you whimper, face pressed against the table, trying to peek up as Joel looms above you, like some higher being that has the power to decide your fate, to decide the pleasure or pain you’ll have to endure in this moment. And truthfully, you do worship him. The way he moves inside of you, makes you crumble underneath even the lightest of his touches. The way he spoils you in every regard - you’ve never wanted for a single thing for as long as you’ve been Joel’s, him vowing to take care of everything you ever need, and in return, you take care of everything he needs. 

To some, it might seem like there’s a lack of balance in the way you do things, but fuck do you love it, you think as you desperately cling onto the table, manicured nails digging into the wood as Joel’s cock rams back into you, pressing so deep inside of you that you see stars.

You let out a low, strangled sound, whining as Joel begins to press against your cervix, the front of your thighs bumping into the table with every new thrust from him. He grunts with the exertion, fucking into you hard, taking what he wants, leaving you both breathless with the need for more of each other. You let Joel take and take and take because of how much he gives in return - while he loves to use you, he always makes sure you get every bit of pleasure you deserve for being so good to him.

When you continuously moan louder as Joel fucks you towards your high, you glance around, the small sliver of your brain that’s still rational worried about you two getting caught by your neighbors. The thought is equally mortifying as it is thrilling, but you decide you’d rather not deal with the embarrassment today if you can help it.

“Still worried about the neighbors, hm, pretty girl? I’ve got an idea,” Joel says, responding to your sudden nervousness. Before you can even answer, his hands are wrapping around your shoulders, urging you up from the table. You follow along, breathless and dazed, letting him move you as he wishes, too deliriously starry eyed for him to care about anything else other than what Joel is gearing up to do to you next.

He accidentally slides out with the movement of your body, and immediately he’s grasping at your hips, practically clawing his way back to you as he pulls you tight to his body again. His throbbing, dripping cock slaps periodically against your ass as he shoves you forward, pushing your body towards the house. 

“Here,” he grits out, suddenly crowding your body from behind to press you against the sliding glass door. “That better?”

“I- yes,” you say, eyes wide from the way you’d been roughly handled by him the last few moments. Your cunt aches almost painfully, having been getting so close to your climax only to have it ripped away suddenly when Joel decided to move you.

“Good,” he snips quietly. “Couldn’t stand to keep this cock out of you much longer’n this.”

With his words he brings his lips to the back of your neck again, just his heavy breathing fanning across the skin there, making you wild as he repositions himself and nudges your legs apart with his knee. You feel the length of him tease between your legs, sliding up to your entrance again. He groans loudly, letting you know how badly he wants you, so you try to pop your hips up at just the right angle you know he’s looking for. 

He slides in effortlessly and with a renewed vigor, hips snapping into you, pressing you further into the sliding glass door with neither of you seeming to be worried about the way it’s suddenly shaking on the frame. It’s completely lewd, the way you imagine the two of you - your entire body against glass, tits being pressed out the top of your dress and bouncing, palms spread against the smooth surface, nails clawing and unable to grasp at anything.

Your body is shaking in his hold now, Joel’s cock hitting inside of you in all the right places. You can feel yourself tensing, almost like every cell is going taut, your core pooling heat deep inside of you with molten pleasure from Joel hitting the spongy bit inside of you. 

“Fuck, love it when you sound like that f’me, doll,” Joel punches out as he hears your moans becoming louder and more desperate the longer he continues to thrust against your g-spot. You can’t respond, only continue your lustful noises with a renewed vigor as you try to bounce your hips back into his thrusts, getting him deeper than what’s even possible, the length of him already burying up to the hilt each time he drives himself into you.

“Know you wanna come for me, baby,” he says right in your ear, voice hoarse with need, and you whimper in response as his hand snakes around your hips and in between your legs, circling a gentle pressure on your clit. 

You feel your hold on reality completely break, your eyes squeezing shut as you melt into the way your entire body is tingling with pleasure now, waves of it turning into spasms as you go practically limp with shaky knees. Joel’s hands hold you in place, his warm strength keeping you upright as you push down onto his cock, riding out your climax and screaming for him. 

When your movements start to slow and your body relaxes, Joel thrusts into you even harder, loving the way you’re so compliant and soft after climaxing, letting him move in you however he needs as you ride out the sensitive aftershocks with a few quiet yelps.

“This little pussy is all mine, y’know that, right?” Joel reminds you through clenched teeth, giving your ass a firm slap. You nod vigorously, eyes still half lidded and mind scrambled from the way he’d shattered you mere moments ago.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say when he slaps your ass again, demanding an answer. Your breathy answer is enough to get him to his own climax, and he surprises you by pulling out suddenly, leaving your body lurching back into nothing, missing the fullness of him already. Before you can protest, say anything, Joel’s hands grip your shoulders and spin you around and push down, forcing you onto your knees in one fluid, swift motion. You watch, wide eyed, as he fists his throbbing cock, shiny and coated in your own slick arousal as he spreads it along his shaft in jerking motions.

“Be a good girl and open up,” he commands, and you submit to the words immediately, mouth hanging open, even sticking your tongue out for good measure. Joel smirks at that before giving himself another swift tug, and you watch in renewed wonder as he begins to spill himself all over your face, ropes of cum hitting your skin. You taste him on your tongue immediately, savoring it. Your eyes are glued up on Joel’s face, watching his glazed gaze taking in the scene below him as he groans in pleasure, trying not to tilt his head back and get lost in the moment so he doesn’t miss a beat of your beautiful surrender to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he watches the last bits of his release hit your tongue. “Don’t you dare swallow that, yet, doll,” he adds on quickly, eyes fluttering for a moment before he tucks himself back into his slacks. He continues to tower over you for a prolonged few seconds, looking down in satisfaction at the image of your glowing, angelic face coated in something so sinful, the milky substance starting to drip down your face, your tongue trembling slightly with the need to swallow.

“Hold still,” he says needlessly since as the words come out of his mouth he grabs your chin, tilting your head upwards and gathering spit, letting a long, tortuously slow drip of it fall into your open mouth. It lands on your tongue, combining with his cum and Joel smirks again, releasing your chin.

“Swallow, my little doll,” he says, voice starting to go soft, an indication that he’s feeling satisfied and finished with his enjoyment of you. You close your mouth, smile, and swallow obviously for him, licking your lips for good measure. 

Joel holds out a hand, helping you stand, your legs buckling slightly as you try to get your bearings. He carefully smooths your disheveled dress, flattening the bottom half and tugging the neckline back into place before fixing the straps to sit perfectly square on your shoulders, eyes roaming over quickly to examine his work with pride. His hands then move to your hair, brushing his fingers gently to put it back in its place, leaving every part of you like none of this had just happened besides your face, still dripping with his spill. Your smile widens, seeing him watch a particularly large spot of it sliding down your cheek. You see his composure fail for a moment before he strokes your cheek gently, avoiding any of the mess there, giving you soft, affectionate eyes.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Pizza’s probably ready,” he adds on, the casual tone taking you aback for only a moment before you blink yourself back to reality and nod dutifully.

“Of course,” you say, a genuine smile plastered on your face as you look at your handsome husband, admiring the way he’s looking at you with stars dancing across his eyes, the deepest love for you tucked away in his deep brown irises.

“After you get that, go clean yourself up, doll,” he says, and you nod again, the smile not leaving your face. You see out of the corner of your eye Joel settle onto one of the chairs at your outdoor table, leaning back casually as if he hadn’t just had you bent over that exact table, fucking you for the entire neighborhood to possibly see and hear.

You gather everything you need, serving utensils, plates, and two cold beers before bringing it to the table along with the pizza and a freshly tossed salad you’d made to accompany it. Each time you drop something off, the smirk on Joel’s face grows, watching the way you work with the evidence of his obsession with you still lingering on your flushed cheeks.

Once the table is set and your face cleaned off, you join Joel outside to enjoy the beautiful spring evening, and see he’s already served you two generous slices of the margherita pizza. 

He reaches a hand onto the table, taking yours delicately into his palm, dwarfing it with the size of his thick fingers as he absentmindedly runs his thumb along your knuckles, stopping to play with the large, gorgeous diamond on your ring finger. Another reminder to him that he has you all to himself, his pretty little wife.

“Thanks for dinner, baby” he says, eyes locked on yours as he uses a free hand to pick up the pizza and take a large bite, letting out a little noise in satisfaction at the flavor.

“Anytime.” You smile, genuine and tranquil, a fresh appreciation and love for the life you’ve found yourself so grateful to be living.

tysm to @jupiter-soups @huffle-punk @rensraptor for so much help with ideas and writing this fic! love u guys x

[rensraptor]

Frankie Morales's sweaty curls. Reblog if you agree.

[rensraptor]

some of yall need to stop telling people what they can and can't write/read when it comes to fic. let people exist. same with whether or not you think a character would do something that someone else writes them doing. just fyi, in a lot of cases the writer themselves doesn't even ACTUALLY think the character would do that; it's just a fantasy?? this is the whole reason alternate universe fics exist, so we can see characters we like in situations they normally wouldn't be in, engaging in things they might not usually engage in, etc. like is that really so hard to understand?? and how does it affect you??? can't you just.. idk... ignore it? block people?? filter out the tags? there are so many options on here to avoid seeing things you don't want to see and yet SO MANY people are hellbent on just complaining about other people and thriving on making others feel bad about what they wanna write/read. we're all adults here and some of you still have the mindsets of children. it's so annoying. grow up and stop policing other people's fun.

[rensraptor]

🍵 pottery painting!!! making cute little suprises for each other!! who it is depends on what i’d being painted on both ends but i’d fall so in love if they ordered us a little set to do at home, favourite takeout (indian), sweet little music playlist they made special for me!! and some good ol’ flirty banter. candlelit, vulnerable, artsy, flirty, i need it tbh. all planned by him btw! he’s just like “put on something comfy and get in the car”. yessir🫡

-🧸🧸

join my 1.5k celebration!

this date screams Marcus pike. He's the art FBI guy but I feel like he actually sucks at art in a really cute way. Like he tries and it looks like a 3rd graders art project but hes so proud so its cute anyway. So ofc this is the perfect date for him to take someone on. I think he's more of a homebody tbh so he would put on some music and you could just paint and vibe.

[rensraptor]

👹 characters i think are me-coded! 👹

thanks for the tag @jupiter-soups my beloved 🫶

left to right, top to bottom:

sookie st. james (gilmore girls); marshall eriksen (how i met your mother); phil dunphy (modern family); olaf (frozen); linda belcher (bob’s burgers); phoebe buffay (friends); jake peralta (brooklyn 99); willow rosenberg (buffy the vampire slayer); wanda maximoff (marvel cinematic universe)

✨ bonus character: bart simpson (cos dear @jupiter-soups said so.)

tags (if you wanna!!): @futuraa-free @huffle-punk and anyone else that feels like it!

[rensraptor]

quiet men will fuck the shit out of you

[rensraptor]

on SIGHTTT if you scroll past. ON SIGHT

1.5k boba party!!

Come celebrate my milestone!! This will be open until August 10th. Send as many asks as you want!! It might take me a bit to get to them but I promise I want as many as you want to send!!

Characters I write for: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Dieter Bravo, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Agent Whiskey, Max Phillips

🍓 strawberry milk tea - Send me a prompt and i’ll write a cute little blurb. Can be NSFW but please be 18+ (See above which characters I write for)

🍵 matcha - Describe your dream date and I’ll tell you which Pedro Character would take you on it!

🧋 Taro - Ask games! FMK, This or That etc

🥭 mango green tea - Headcanons! Send me a senario and I’ll tell you which Pedro Boys fit that (Ex: Which Pedro boys would like horror movies?)

🍮 brown sugar milk tea - Moodboards! Send me a character and aesthetic or one of your own fics and I’ll make a moodboard for it!!

[rensraptor]

🫶🫶🫶

every bait and switch was a work of art

part two of begging for you to take my hand. part one here.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, friends -> enemies -> lovers (kinda)

summary: joel has always pulled away from you. you are determined to find out why.

warnings: unprotected piv sex, explicit smut, 18+ MDNI, some angst

word count: 10.3K

sixteen months ago

The first time that you had met Joel Miller was the second time that he appeared in Jackson. His initial visit had been incredibly brief, after all, and so it wasn’t until after you returned from the resource expedition for the town schoolhouse that you heard of his arrival at all. 

Tommy had been a veritable whirlwind of emotions; guilt, happiness, fear, all at once. It must have been the tenth time in just the few days it took for you to return that Maria heard Tommy’s retelling of his brother’s arrival, and yet she listened quietly, with a troubled expression on her face. An expression that told you everything you needed to know about how unlikely it was for this mysterious man to ever return.

As months passed without word of the older Miller brother, you didn’t talk about it; not to Tommy, or Maria, or any of the wall guards that were given the burdensome task of informing Tommy of the lack of news at the end of each week. 

So, when you finally bumped into him at the end of a grueling five day trip beyond the walls, you didn’t even consider the possibility that it was him. You had never seen the man in person, after all. 

You had just trudged into The Tipsy Bison, worn boots covered in a thick layer of wet mud and hair dripping rainwater over the scuffed hardwood floors. A rain storm had ambushed you the moment you foolishly let yourself believe that you made it home without incident, and had managed to soak you to the bone in the short minutes it took for you to actually get through the gates. 

If your hunger hadn’t already begun to verge on nausea you would have immediately gone home to take a warm shower and pass out, face down, on your welcoming bed for the next twelve hours in a coma-like type of sleep. Instead you perched on a stool in the mostly empty bar and began shoveling the contents of the small bowl of dried berries into your mouth, fistfuls at a time and with the ferocity of a wild animal. 

You could feel his stare on you from where he sat at the corner of the counter. It was hard not to feel, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle as he watched you. What you couldn’t tell was if he was looking at you in indifference or disapproval, just another old man who thinks that table manners still matter in the apocalypse. He mostly just seemed deeply exhausted as he sat there, slouched on his stool and with dregs of a drink sitting in a chipped whiskey glass in front of him. 

“Yes?” You asked pointedly, voice muffled by the fruit you refused to stop chewing. 

“Nothin’, nothin’” He responded carefully and in a slightly gravelly tone, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while. He cleared his throat. “Here.” He slid the small bowl that was sitting in front of him across the counter at you, and you didn't hesitate to begin eating the weird dry crackers from them. It was way too late for dinner service, and you were sure your cabinets were empty, so the bar snacks would do.

Slowing down your rapid consumption now that you had started to feel like a real human being again, you looked back over to the man who was staring down at the last few sips of his drink with an unreadable look on his face. He looked sort of familiar now that your vision wasn’t clouded by hunger. He was handsome, too,  in that weathered, rugged, sleep-is-for-the-weak, kind of way. 

“You new here? Haven’t seen you around before,” You questioned while leaning over the counter to pour yourself some water from a glass carafe. It was way too late in the night to start drinking, as much as you were craving something strong to ease the exhaustion paining your body.

He looked over, looking slightly surprised that you spoke to him again. “Yes. Been here about four days now. Tommy Miller’s brother, you might’ve heard.” 

“Oh fuck,” You exclaimed, eyes wide, before you could contain yourself.  “You actually made it back! I thought–” You stumbled over your words for a second as he raised an eyebrow at the start of your sentence,  “Well, shit, welcome!” You continued, hopping down from your stool and rushing to move over to the one directly next to him, making sure to bring the bowl of crackers with you. 

“Yes, we did.” He watched you approach with an inscrutable expression, and you felt a   twinge of guilt for intruding on this man who probably just wanted a quiet nightcap before heading home to bed.

“You had a kid with you, right? You’re both back here for good then? Tommy must be a mess right now. In a good way!” You grinned at him, trying to couch the way you hinted at Tommy’s unstable emotional state. It had been obvious that Tommy loved Joel, but there had also clearly been some kind of drama that Joel probably didn’t want some random woman to know about.

“Uh, yes. Ellie. She’s not mine, just takin’ care of her. An’ Tommy’s been fine. Happy, I suppose.” He finally lifted the glass up to down the last few sips of his drink, chasing his words down with the bitterness of whiskey. The empty glass now back on the counter, he turned slightly more to look at you. “You know us, then?”

“Right, I forgot to introduce myself!” You ignored the sudden realization of just how much of a mess you must have looked, pushing your wet hair behind your ears and sitting up a little straighter before saying your name brightly. “And I’m Maria’s friend. Tommy’s too, of course, but I met Maria first. Heard a lot about you. A little about Ellie, too. She’s quite…feisty, apparently?”

His lips pulled up in one corner ever so slightly at the mention of the girl’s attitude. “You could say that.”

A few moments of comfortable silence passed between you, as you scarfed down another couple of handfuls of crackers, reaching the end of the bowl. He continued to look vaguely amused despite himself as he watched you eat, tapping his thumb against the countertop. “They don’t keep you fed here, or somethin’?” 

You made a show of tipping the crumbs from the bottom of the bowl into your mouth that was still very much full of food, with an eyebrow raised as if to challenge him. He chuckled quietly with a small shake of his head, deciding to let you go about your impromptu dinner without any more judgment. 

After a slightly painful swallow (the crackers were more sharp than you anticipated), you asked “So, what are you doing here so late, Joel Miller? Would’a thought you’d be making up for all of the months of shitty sleep now that you get to have a real bed.” The thought of sleep made you need to muffle a yawn, your body suddenly remembering just how exhausted it was.

“I suppose I should be,” He hesitated and looked you over, as if debating saying anything further. “Been a little strange, that’s all.” He finally conceded, shifting his eyes down to the countertop then back up at your face again.

You nodded and raised your eyebrows encouragingly for him to keep talking. He inhaled sharply and began to turn the empty glass in his hand as he spoke.

“Things are real peaceful here, is all. I’m glad for that, it’s just. Hard to sleep sometimes.”

You gave him a sympathetic smile and a small pat on the shoulder, a touch that made the muscles in his shoulder twitch for a split second. “Makes sense, it can be a little quiet here sometimes. But hey, you’ll get used to it. Might not seem like it now, but I’ve been here a long fucking time and I promise you, everyone gets used to it.”

The next yawn was not one that you were able to muffle, so you slowly, reluctantly, began to stand up, stretching as you did from the pain in your muscles. 

“In the meantime, you should go to the gardens and ask for some passionflower. Tell them I sent you. Boil it with some water and drink it right before you go to bed, and it should help you sleep.” 

He nodded slowly as he watched you wordlessly throughout your movements, before beginning to get up too. Joel followed you outdoors, where you groaned in exasperation at the rain that had only worsened. As you pulled your tragically hoodless jacket up and over your head, you faced Joel again. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Joel.” You reassured with the most certain smile you could give him. “You have family, you have community, and most importantly, you’re gonna be given a job that will be so physically exhausting, you’ll be falling asleep standing up in no time!”

His faint smile didn’t really seem convinced, but it was good enough for you to give him a quick wave and start walking home.  

It took another two days for you to hear if your advice had actually been helpful. Tommy was the one who found you at your home, and he rapidly banged against the door with both fists in his eagerness for you to get up out of bed and open the door. To be fair, it was the mid-afternoon, but damn if you didn’t nearly kick Tommy in the shins the moment the door swung open to his stupid, excited face.

“What?” You growled at him, making sure to give him your patented ‘you’re my friend and I love you but I won’t hesitate to kill you’ look that he knew very well.

He spent the following twenty minutes begging you to accept Joel as your new patrol partner. You knew immediately that you would love to work with Joel. He seemed a little gruff and closed off, but you were naturally pretty extroverted so that didn’t bother you. And he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. You still let Tommy beg though, considering it payback for his annoying wake-up call.

 According to Tommy’s excited blathering, Joel had mentioned that the flower you recommended for him helped him get the first full night of sleep he had since arriving in Jackson. Not only that, but he apparently even smiled when recounting how grateful he was for your tip, especially as dropping your name with the gardeners was what convinced them to give him some of the limited supply. So, clearly, you were destined to be best friends and you had to be the one to show him the ropes, whether it was during the regular local surveying or monthly trips out to the firewatch station for overnight patrol. 

fifteen months ago

The first three weeks of working with Joel had been pleasant, if a little uneventful. He didn’t speak much, and you didn’t really want to push him to do so. Instead, you just let yourself fill any awkward silences with little anecdotes about your time in Jackson. It was hard to tell if he was even listening to you, but he didn’t object so you just kept going. Occasionally you would catch a throwaway comment or quick exhale of air from his nose (‘that’s just stupid,’, ‘now why would you ever think that was a good idea?’) with a small smile tugging at the side of his lips. The knowledge that you had even slightly amused him filled you with a strange sense of pride.

During your first encounter with a small group of stragglers, you could feel Joel tense up beside you, hand firmly on the pistol sitting in his holster. He watched as you offered the people the berries from your hip bag, and he seemed to be holding back the urge to interrupt your kind act. While you knew very well that caution was important, these were people that had clearly been abandoned by a larger group. People that had been deemed weak and a burden, and if their emaciated state was any indication, they were not going to be a problem for Jackson. 

Your first trip to the firewatch station had similarly been uneventful. You taught him how to use the detailed map in the center of the room, and how to use the radio to listen out for signals or warnings from the broader region. He took the first shift staying awake, letting you have a few hours of sleep on the single bed in the corner of the room, and when he woke you to swap roles, you took his place on the fold out chair on the small-wrap around balcony surrounding the station. A mostly empty thermos that smelled strongly like floral tea sat on the railing, still warm. 

fourteen months ago

Ellie had practically run you over with how fast she reached you the second she heard the Savage Starlight joke leave your lips. Any offense that you felt at her surprise that an old person liked the comic books faded as her excitement won you over, and so you let her the teen and her friend, Cat, ramble on and on about the character (‘...and then they crashed and it was like woooOAHHHH, but I don’t get why they didn’t just work together to…’). 

The eye contact you made with Joel over their heads made you giggle at the way he seemed both embarrassed but also impressed by the girl’s ability to speak without stopping for air. He gave you an apologetic look, before telling Ellie and her friend to go back to school and stop bothering you both on your break. It took a promise to have dinner with the pair of them, where she would have free reign to quiz you, for her to finally agree and head back to class instead of continuing to ditch. 

The hesitant look in Joel’s eyes at the prospect of having dinner with you made you nervous, but he insisted that it was fine. His uneasy assurance did not really do anything to make you think that it was actually fine, but you still showed up on their doorstep that evening, tupperware of oat cookies in hand.

After a fun evening eating the slightly overcooked, but still tasty, pasta that Joel had made, and trying to wrestle the cookies out of Ellie’s grasp for long enough to make sure that Joel got one, you found yourself on his couch, lore-dumping all of the obscure comic book information that you knew onto Ellie.

You weren’t sure how it came up, but Ellie mentioned that Joel played the guitar and had already begun to force it into his hands before he could even protest (‘come on, old man, don’t be shy now!’). He begrudgingly played a few chords, and you recognised the old country song from the cassette tapes your brother hoarded. Face as sincere as possible, you began to sing along, hitting every note in the first line as poorly as you could manage.

As you peeked out of the corners of your eyes to see his reaction you were met with sheer, undisguised panic. You burst out into laughter at him, stating that you were just messing with him. He returned this laugh. It was the first sincere, loud, laugh that you had heard from him, and the butterflies in your stomach at the sound immediately dampened your mood. The jovial atmosphere suddenly felt a little dangerous for you. Thankfully, Ellie’s mockery at Joel’s expense (‘you shoulda seen your stupid face!’) helped to mask the sudden internal crisis you were having. 

As you forced yourself to calm down and snap out of the rise of emotion that you felt for the rugged man sitting just a mere few feet away from you, Joel mentioned his newly growing collection of old Westerns. It didn’t take much insistence from you to put one on, and he seemed determined to convince you that they were actually good (‘you both need to learn to appreciate the classics.’) 

Within ten minutes of the movie starting, a knock at the door from Ellie’s friends had her rushing out to a last-minute sleepover, leaving Joel yelling out a hasty warning (‘don’t do anything stupid, I know where’ta find you!’) You had begun to get up to leave as well, when Joel stopped you, offering to finish the movie. The lurch in your chest at the idea of that had you sitting back down instantly, and the way warmth radiated off of his body that was now right next to you was overwhelming.

You had woken up a couple of hours later to a gentle shake of your shoulder, Joel’s bleary voice indicating that he had just woken up himself. He quietly joked that it probably didn’t help his these-movies-are-amazing argument that neither of you made it through it (‘maybe we should give it another go next time. Should really give it a fair chance,’.)

Dinners with Joel and Ellie became a twice-a-week activity, after that.

twelve months ago

Joel Miller was your friend. You knew that much for a fact, despite not quite knowing when you realized that he felt the same way about you. 

Maybe it had been when last call had rung out in the Tipsy Bison, and you noticed that everyone else that you had sat for dinner with had been long gone.

Maybe it was when you had snuck beers up to the firewatch tower in an old cooler, and regardless of his vocal disapproval, the next time you headed out you found that he had packed some mixed nuts and extra jerky to pair with it. 

You were only certain when you spent an evening sitting next to each other on the balcony of the firewatch station, and he told you about Sarah. He was well aware that Tommy had told you all about outbreak day and the heartbreak that came from the loss of his precious niece. But he still told you about it himself. He didn’t pull away when you reached a hand over to clasp his clenched fist, and instead you felt his hand slowly relax in yours,  not quite holding yours back, but enough to acknowledge that you were there. That you cared.

Later that night you woke up on your own, rather than by him calling out for you to get up and swap shifts. You trudged out to the balcony, confused to see him still sitting there even as the sun had begun to rise. Questioning what was going on just resulted in Joel awkwardly standing up, curtly explaining himself, and promptly heading inside (‘don’t need the third degree,’ ‘thought you might have needed an extra hour. Looked like you were sleepin’ pretty deeply, is all. Forget it.’)

ten months ago

“Hey,” you called to Joel while leaning part way out of the wooden balcony door. The sun had just begun to set, and the way the gentle evening breeze tousled Joel’s slightly-longer-than-usual curls made you forget what you wanted to ask for a second. The bead of sweat that was forming on his forehead reminded you, and you held out the condensation covered bottle of beer to Joel. “Want another?”

He gave you an appreciative smile, and took the cold bottle from your hands, using the back of the metal spoon he had just used to eat to crack off the cap. You watched unabashedly as he tilted his head back and took a few deep gulps from the bottle. This had been happening more and more as of late. Him, being accidentally sexy. You, being unable to look away.

He let out a satisfied exhale, and you quickly sat back in your seat, pressing your own bottle against your exposed neck and upper chest in a pathetic attempt to cool yourself down in the sweltering heat of early fall. The tank top you wore did nothing to help.

You could feel Joel stare at you, but you refused to look at him. Overthinking every little look he gave you had become a habit for you over the last couple of months, and it had become increasingly difficult to avoid any delusions that maybe he might be struggling around you in the way you struggled around him. The rush to avoid this train of thought caused you to quickly burst into an attempt at conversation.

“So, Maria’s been trying to force me to go on a blind date recently. Well she says it’s a blind date, but I just know it’s going to be one of Tommy’s gardening friends.” Good job, moron, you berated yourself for bringing up the topic of romance.

“That so?” He murmured quietly, thumb tapping on the edge of the bottle in his hands, “You like gardenin’. You thinkin’ of going along with it?”

Your leg bounced with anxiety at the absolute minefield you had dropped yourself into, and it took a conscious effort to seem as relaxed about the topic as you wanted to seem. 

“Well, I-uh,” You laughed in an attempt at seeming nonchalant, “I guess I have been a bit lonely recently. My younger brother– he’s getting married soon. Don’t really know if that’s for me, but it sort’a made me realize that maybe I do want…something like that?”

You heard him take another slow sip, and lifted your own bottle in turn, using it to cover your face. You knew that it would betray exactly what you meant by wanting something.

“Makes sense. You, uh, you deserve that.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Somethin’ real, I mean. Someone-” He hesitated and shifted the glass bottle, paying all of his attention to the movement as he seemed to try and reformulate what it was that he was trying to say. “Someone who can give you what you need,” He finally finished.

The pair of you watched the gradually darkening sky for a moment, letting his words linger as you thought about what it was that you really needed. The idea of a romantic relationship, someone that could hold you at night and make you feel loved, was definitely appealing. But it wasn’t as if you weren’t happy enough as is. You were safe, you were cared for, you cared for people. And you had Joel, in whatever way it was that he let you have him. What more could you really need? Wouldn’t it be selfish of you to try and pursue something more when what you already had was so good?

“I guess I might go for it. It has been a while since I got laid,” You joked, missing the way he sort of choked on his beer. “But, I don’t know. Maybe it’s best for me to just leave things as they are. I’m not exactly unhappy, right now.” You mused, while pulling a knee up to your chest to try and prevent the constant leg bouncing that was a dead giveaway for your nerves.

“And would that be enough for you?” He asked quietly, waiting for you to turn and look at him in the eyes before he continued. “If nothin’ more were to happen, no big commitments, would that be enough?”

His questioning made you uncomfortable, and as obvious as your discomfort probably was, Joel didn’t let up, seeming to need an answer at that moment. You struggled to find one that felt right.

“I don’t know. I don’t care about marriage, or whatever. But, I guess I do like the idea of having someone.” You couldn’t bring yourself to elaborate, suddenly shy under the weight of Joel’s probing brown eyes.

He nodded slowly, wordlessly, and leaned back into his chair. You weren’t even really sure when he had shifted so far towards you until he moved back.

“I hope…I hope that that works out for you, darlin’” Something about his words felt definitive, as if he had made a decision in that moment that you were not privy to.

“So, uh, what about you? Tommy set you up with anyone since you've been here?” You finished off your beer, trying to steel your nerves in preparation for his response. 

He let out a dry laugh, a sound that was far from amusement. “Yeah, I think those days are far behind me, doll,” You watched as he tapped his fingers against the armrest of his fold out chair. “Not really somethin’ I’m capable of anymore,” 

As you watched the soft orange light against his face, you desperately wanted to convince him otherwise. But that would have been too honest, too vulnerable. Instead you joked, “I’m sure Ellie’s relieved about that, can’t imagine her horror if she came home to a sock on the doorknob.” 

He laughed for real that time, and you finally felt yourself relax after the weird and uncomfortable conversation.

The sun was much lower in the sky at that point, and the conversation felt like it was at a safe ending place. Joel didn’t look at you again as you got up, and when you finally went to bed, he let you sleep through the night. 

nine months and nine days ago

Patrol with Lucas was different to patrol with Joel. He was younger, and more agile, of course, but he was also rash. He had something to prove, and none of the confidence that came with experience. It was fine. You were fine with it. 

The boots you were wearing as you made your way into the Bison squeaked from the water they accumulated in the heavy rain. It was miserable and gross, and all you wanted to do was get to bed and forget about the way that Lucas got spooked by a creaking door and almost shoved you to the ground in his haste to escape the room.

You halted in place in the doorway at the sight that greeted you in what should have been an empty bar, given the extremely late hour. Of course, on such a shitty day, you would see Joel sitting at the corner of the bar, swirling the few remnants of his beer around the pint glass in his hand.

He noticed you, as well, and began to sit up from where he was slumped on his stool. He looked exhausted. Good, you thought, as you examined the dark circles around his eyes. 

Reluctantly, you walked up to the bar, reaching to grab a small bowl of dry puffed rice. You pouted unintentionally at how bland the current selection of bar snacks were. 

Something caught your attention from the corner of your eye, as a small bowl of candied nuts slowly worked their way into your frame of vision. You looked up to see Joel sliding the bowl over the counter, eyes flitting up to yours for a brief second before shifting away as soon as he saw you noticed him. 

Your jaw ticked in anger at the weak attempt at…well, you didn’t know what he was doing, really. You pointedly grabbed another handful of the crunchy cereal and shovelled it into your mouth, glaring at him the whole time. He seemed to get the point, and he withdrew the bowl with poorly disguised exasperation. 

It almost made you laugh, how he had the audacity to act annoyed in that moment, and you couldn’t help but provoke him. 

“Yes?” You made no attempt to conceal your persistent anger at the man.

“Nothin,” He responded quickly, but quietly, and you watched him scrape the edge of his fingernail across the countertop, back and forth.

You gave him a derisive look up and down, and he sort of shrunk under your gaze before clearing his throat and waving down the bartender and to hand him a drink ticket. 

“You seem tired. New patrol partner putting you to work?” You continued to poke at him, and you were not really sure why. He was leaving, you could have, and you probably should have, just left it as is.

He sighed out loud this time, while standing up from his stool. “Haven’ been sleeping all that well.”

You let him leave, and as soon as he is out of your sight, you leaned over and grabbed the bowl of candied nuts.

now

You were laying there awake on the cold floor, barely three hours later, with your teeth chattering so loudly that you couldn’t even imagine falling back to sleep. It was hard to tell what woke you in the first place, but you were inclined to believe that it was the loud-ass snoring of the old man across the room.

Any warmth that the alcohol had lent to you was long gone, and if the way the old wooden building shook from the snowstorm outside was any indication, you were in trouble. Survival tactics would dictate that the best plan of action would be for you to share some body heat with the person that you were stuck with, but the thought of that pained you, especially given how your last conversation ended.

A particularly all-encompassing shiver had you giving in and rolling over to look at him, ending the internal debate over whether you should just suffer through the cold. He was still snoring away peacefully. Of course he is, the bastard you found yourself thinking bitterly, the chill in your bones definitely making you unnecessarily spiteful. 

As much as it pained you to admit, you knew that Joel emitted warmth like a space heater and he would be able to help stop the shivering with ease. You fought away the thought of his broad chest pressed against your back, and instead focused on getting up on your knees to crawl over clumsily in the dark towards Joel’s body, still wrapped in your sleeping bag. 

“J-Joel?” A shiver punctuated your faint voice, as you nudged his shoulder to try and wake him.

Joel barely moved from the contact, making you grit your teeth in frustration. Logically, you knew he wasn't ignoring you on purpose. He was just far too exhausted to wake up from such a gentle jab. It still irritated you, regardless.

You gave his chest a stronger shove. “Come on, move over, I’m f-freezing.”

His eyes slowly cracked open and he softly said your name, a question, confusion and something else that you couldn’t quite place lacing his tone. Joel’s brown eyes were softer than you’d ever seen as he stared up at you, unmoving. Your words seemed to catch up with him all at once, and he nodded quickly, unsteadily, reaching a hand out to start unzipping his own sleeping bag.

“Sure, sure…come here, darlin’’ His voice was thick with sleep as he flipped open the bag.

With some effort, you combined the two bags and started to slip in next to him, hesitating briefly when deciding which direction to face. None of the options felt appropriate. There wouldn’t have been enough space to comfortably lie on your back, facing him seemed like a psychotic choice, and letting him spoon you felt way too intimate. It would have been too intimate even when you were still friends, let alone now. Your eyes flitted up to his, questioning what the correct choice was. Joel responded with a firm hand on your shoulder, pulling you down so your back was pressed against his chest. 

The way you fit against him just deepened all of the frustration you felt about your situation. It should have felt awkward and bumbling, but it just didn’t. Your frame fit against his like you were made for him to hold, and you hated it. You should not have been feeling this way about him after he had made it so abundantly obvious to you that he simply did not like you. 

It made you feel pathetic, harboring a childlike crush on this man that didn’t give you the time of day. I’m a grown woman, for fucks sake, you reprimanded yourself as you tried desperately to will yourself to sleep. 

The way his gentle breathing against the delicate skin of your neck caused goosebumps to rise made you feel as if you were going to suffocate. It had taken you months to bury these emotions, concealing it with anything from mild disparagement to outright pettiness. And here you were, feeling all of it again. Suddenly, freezing on the cold floor by yourself seemed like the preferable option to whatever hell you had gotten yourself trapped in.

“Do you mind?” He muttered quietly, as you felt his arm lift over your torso, hestating slightly to give you an option to tell him to keep his hands to himself. “Arms sorta sore, keeping it straight by my side.”

“Yeah. It’s fine,” you responded quickly– probably too quickly. If you were lucky, your tone would have seemed irritated rather than reflecting the greed you suddenly felt towards the idea of having more of his skin against yours.

His sturdy arm shifted to rest against the side of your torso, and you felt his hand slide down gently, resting his palm flat against your stomach. You were holding your breath for a moment to try and repress the gasp that almost fell from your mouth. His hand was just so big against you. It made you feel like a repressed Victorian housewife to react so strongly to an innocent touch, but God you had tried so hard to forget how much Joel Miller could affect you. 

Minutes went by without any further speech from either of you, and you finally felt your heart rate begin to settle back down from its elevated position. He was so warm, so soft, so inviting, that you couldn’t help the way your eyes started to flutter shut. Your shivering ceased quickly after you were wrapped in Joel’s heat, and you had become convinced that he had already fallen back asleep as his body seemed to have relaxed around you. 

“I’m sorry,”

“Jesus, fuc-” You jumped out of your skin at his voice, the sleep in your system quickly evaporating. His hand bunched up slightly in the front of your shirt at your movement and his arm tightened around you, instinctively pulling you in closer. He quickly let go of your shirt upon realizing what he had been doing, but his arm remained just as tight around you. 

‘It’s fine.’ You responded brusquely. Him touching you like this meant that he had the upper hand. There was no way that you would be able to maintain a cogent argument with him wrapped around you, and you knew it was best to just avoid the urge to drag out the argument. 

“I didn’ say what I was sorry for yet.” 

You sighed. “Fine. Continue.”

“I shouldn’t have been such a hardass earlier about you getting in trouble with that runner. It was a fuck up, but you’re not…bad at what you do.” He paused, as if waiting for some kind of response. Without any indication from you that you were actually listening or even cared about what he was saying, he continued.

“An’ I shouldn’ve asked Tommy to switch me off of patrol with you. That was….” he hesitated as if he couldn’t or didn’t know how to keep going. “I overheard you talkin’ with Al on the radio earlier. I guess I didn’ realize that you would take it so hard.” You heard him swallow dryly. “Everyone back in Jackson sees you, sees how good you are. I thought you would just tell me to fuck off, or somethin’’ 

His tone was almost begging you to just understand him.

“I did tell you that.” You reminded him bluntly, trying to keep your voice unaffected despite the way he had begun to lightly trace lines against your stomach through the cotton of your worn t-shirt.

Joel let out a single chuckle, clearly not really amused by the memory but more so at your candor. “Right.”

“Just forget it, Joel. I know that I’m good at what I do. I just….” you were suddenly glad that you weren’t looking right at him, as you decided to just bite the bullet and say it. “I liked working with you. I thought we were friends…or whatever. It hurt my feelings that you thought- I don’t know, that I was a burden, or something? That because I had been in Jackson for a while, I was weak or not as capable as you. But it’s fine. I don’t need your validation. I guess I just wish you would have told me yourself or something.”

You fought the urge to turn over and see his facial expression, instead choosing to listen closely for any change to his deep breathing.

“I jus’ didn’t know what to say. How to say it.” He gradually said, choosing his words carefully. They felt strangely loaded. “I see now that I shouldnt’ve. Said any of that, I mean. Should’ve just... been honest.”

His words circle around in your mind. He should have been honest? If what he said was him being reserved, what was it that he actually wanted to say to you? 

“Well, be honest now then.” You demanded.

“I-” Joel started before cutting himself off, clearly not knowing what to say next. You feel a small smile pull at your lips at the fact that you had made him uncomfortable. Good. Suffer. you thought to yourself, highly aware of the way that even when apologizing, he was unable to give you actual closure. 

“I just didn’ think I could be a friend to you, like you wanted. It was becoming-” He went silent for a second before clearing his throat and continuing. “Difficult, for me.” 

“I see.” You wished you could say something more, but the sick feeling in your stomach prevented you from doing so.

Joel Miller just didn’t like you. He didn’t want to be your friend, let alone anything else. There was nothing more to it, nothing fixable to save the friendship that had become so important to you. Maybe the disappointment you felt was your fault. If you had just accepted that he didn’t want to work with you any longer, you would have been able to move on by now. But God, he had just seemed so genuine every time you made him laugh. If you hadn’t spent night after night with him, falling asleep watching his favorite movies tucked under that stupid purple blanket, this probably wouldn’t have felt so wrong.

“Do you understand what I’m tryin’ to say, darlin’?” His voice was practically a whisper in your ear.

“Goodnight, Joel,” was all you could summon as an answer.

A bright sliver of light from the cracks of the shutters was concentrated directly on your sleeping face, dragging you out of a warm and pleasant sleep. It had been such a long time since you slept so deeply, dreamless and without a kind of nagging awareness of an endless list of upcoming tasks clawing at your brain even in unconsciousness. 

You tried to shift your face away from the sun but were quickly made aware of something soft, yet firm, pressed against your cheek that prevented such movement. At some point during the night, Joel had shifted onto his back, and pulled you with him so that your head was resting against his chest. You were now facing him, with your left leg kicked up over his hips, and clinging onto him as if you were a koala. He had an arm wrapped around you, holding you against his chest in a gentle embrace. His other hand rested on his own stomach, and to your immense horror you realized that he was holding your wrist in his soft grip against his torso. Joel was breathing gently, deeply, under your palm and his steady heartbeat thumped loudly against your ear. It was too intimate, too tender.

With all of the grace and elegance of a turtle stuck on its back, you jolted back away from his inviting body, only to be caught by the constraints of the small sleeping bag. In your attempt to disentangle yourself, you felt something press against your thigh that was extremely identifiable. That's when the panic set in, causing you to manically swing your arm up from where it was stuck with as much power as you could muster, trying to get it free from the bag with sheer brute force. Fortunately, it worked, and your arm was freed. Unfortunately, the sudden loss of the sleeping bag’s restriction around your shoulder caused your arm to propel up, resulting in an audible smack against Joel’s jaw.

“Huh- Wha-” He looked around wildly for his assailant before clocking the abject terror on your face at the predicament you were both in.

“Fuck- sorry, I-” He quickly reached up and unzipped the bag in one swift motion, freeing you both.

With a quick, ungraceful, scamper away, you turned back to face him where he remained on the floor. Despite everything, you couldn’t help the way your heart pounded at his appearance, all wild-eyed and messy, overgrown hair that stood up in strange directions. 

You also couldn’t help but let your eyes snap down towards his crotch in a need to confirm that you had felt what you thought you had felt. Immediate regret flooded your system at the sight, and you could feel your face heat and your mouth get dry. You quickly wrested your eyes away and back to his face. His expression was one of mortification and guilt.

“I-”

“Uh-”

Both of you spoke at once, and then paused. Joel took a moment to sit up fully, and dragged part of the loose sleeping bag over his lap, trying to subtly cover what you had both already known was there.

He attempted to speak again. “I’m sorry, darlin’,  I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Joel. You’re a man, it happens. I’ll just. Uh. Go and wash my face or whatever and then we can eat something and head out?” You said, already starting to walk backwards towards the staff room. The awkwardness is only heightened when you clipped into the side of the counter while walking backwards, letting out a humph of sudden pain that just embarrassed you further. 

You could barely make out his response (“Right. Sounds good.”) over the blood pumping in your ears as you firmly shut the door behind you once you reached the safety of the staff room.

After a quick rinse of your face with fresh water from the spout of the water jug placed on one of the shelves, you checked in with the morning shift radio workers at Jackson, confirming that you would shortly be beginning the three hour hike back to the gates. A few deep breaths later, you were able to make your way back out to face him. 

The creaking door announced your entrance back into the main room, and Joel looked at you from where he was standing and trying to shove the sleeping bags back into the small pouches that housed them. 

Grabbing it out of his hands wordlessly, you started to correctly fold the sleeping bag for him, refusing to acknowledge the awkward atmosphere. Even ignoring Joel’s obvious arousal, you had practically been cuddling in your sleep. Mere hours after he made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with you.

Obviously, what happened while you slept was out of your control. It wouldn’t be fair of you to read into it. But, in the cold light of day, you found yourself needing more, needing a real reason for his dislike of you. There was no way that this conversation wasn’t going to hurt you, but maybe that was what was needed to get over everything and truly move on from it. You could sense him sneaking looks at you, but you chose to keep your eyes on the task at hand until everything was correctly packed away.

No longer able to stall, you finally began “Can we talk?” 

He swallowed, before giving you a few short nods in agreement. 

“I know you already gave me a reason for not wanting to work with me anymore. I…didn’t have the experiences that you had, and you didn’t want to have to take orders from me. Fine. But, I don’t think I’m crazy for thinking that we were real friends, Joel.” You stared at him, trying to gauge any kind of emotional response.

“I don’t care if it’s cruel or…whatever, just.” You sigh. “Just…please tell me why I was wrong. Why you don’t like me.” Every part of you burned from the embarrassment of being so vulnerable in front of him. You had spent months curating the perfect image of hate for this man, and to have to admit that he was still so capable of hurting you was just embarrassing.

He watched you with a look of true indecision, letting you say your piece but then remaining silent for a torturous amount of time after. 

“Nothing? Really?” You knew that your face was giving away the hurt that you felt in that moment.

Once it became clear that you weren’t giving up, Joel let out a low exhale of defeat. He didn’t look at you, and he hung his head before speaking hesitantly.

“This is what I was hopin’ to avoid. I thought if I were harsh with it all, you would just leave me alone.” He caught himself quickly, and his head snapped up to look at you with some semblance of panic, grabbing your upper arm as if to hold you in place. “Not that– I just thought it might be best to…create some distance.”

“What, I crowded y’all or something? Because that was never my intention. I just. I liked being around you both.”

He looked sort of pained as he quietly admitted “And that’s the problem. I liked being around you too. More than I should’ve.”

The grip he had on your arm loosens, and you feel his hand slide down to meet yours. Joel didn’t make a move to grab it, but his fingers traced the back of your hand gently, as he watched the path they took against your skin.

“Somethin’ about you just” He finally grasped your hand in his, moving his thumb across your scuffed knuckles, “Hard to resist”’

You blinked rapidly, thoughts running at a million miles per hour as you tried to make sense of what he was saying. You began to speak when his other hand lifted to cup your cheek, rendering you speechless yet again.

“I thought you wouldn’ care. I still don’t see why you would, but I’m sorry, darlin’, for hurtin’ you.” His eyes flash to your lips before he pulls himself away from you. Your blood feels like ice in your veins in the absence of his touch.

As he stood a few steps back from you, you watched a look of guilt manifest on his face, before he let out a pained chuckle. “You see now, doll? Why I had to push you aside? You don’t want  an ol’ man like me getting attached.”

His eyes were searching yours for something that you were struggling to understand how to provide. You could feel your heartbeat where he had been touching you, and it finally clicked. 

You slowly stepped forward until you were chest to chest, putting your own hand against his cheek to force him to look down at you. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips against his softly, giving him the option to push you away if he so chose. 

He was practically frozen under your lips, and so you pulled back, ready to apologise. The words didn’t get the chance to leave your mouth as he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you as if it had been costing him every ounce of control in his body to prevent. 

You found your back pressed against the end cap of the shelves in the center of the room as he devoured you, barely letting you up for air.

“Joel-” you were unable to finish your sentence before he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth desperately.

It was impossible to hold back your loud moan as he hitched you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and letting you feel himself, hard against your quickly dampening core. 

“F-fuck, I-” he practically whimpered as you took the opportunity to grind against him, eyes practically rolling back at the obscene sensation of him. “We don’ have to do this, this is why-” You cut him off by gripping his jaw in your hand and looking into his wild eyes as if to give him permission. “Joel. I want this.”

That’s all it took for him to lean his head over into the crook of your neck and start pressing wet kisses along your skin, all  while walking you over to the chest freezer and placing you on top. It takes him a few more minutes of lavishing kisses against your skin to pull himself away for long enough to drop down to his knees in front of you. 

He grabbed a thigh in each hand roughly and tugged you forward until you were perched on the edge of the surface. Shaky hands began to pull at the waistband of your jeans, not even bothering to try with the buttons. As he finally succeeded in pulling them down and off, you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sinful sight in front of you. His pupils were dilated and his lips were swollen as he repeatedly murmured to himself “Wanted this for so long, been so hard to resist-”

His chest was heaving as he grabbed at the lace decorating the edge of your underwear, beginning to pull at them impatiently, any hesitation that he once had long gone.

‘Wanna make you feel so good, baby, need to make you feel good”

Your response was to simply push your fingers through his soft curls and grab a handful, pulling his face towards your waiting pussy. 

Joel pulled your legs over his shoulders and quickly pressed his face against you, licking a wide stripe up your wet folds eagerly. A broken moan pierced the room as he expertly pushed his tongue into your dripping opening, before withdrawing to raise his mouth up to suck on your sensitive clit. 

Your hand remained tightly in his hair as you lost yourself in the sensations of the man on his knees for you, it only being heightened by how much he seemed to be loving it. 

He moaned against your cunt at your taste, as if he couldn’t get enough. Every moment that he retracted slightly to get a lungful of air, you heard him speak almost deliriously “So perfect, so sweet for me.” Before long he was taking a hand off of your thigh and bringing it down towards his own crotch, desperate for some direct stimulation.

This snapped you out of your reverie, and you dragged his head away from your folds, ignoring the sharp pang of pleasure coursing through you at the sight of his wet jaw and desperate eyes.

“Joel, please, fuck me.” Your voice cracked and the sheer desire radiating through it made Joel rise to his feet in an instant, reaching for his belt.

He pulled you in for another deep kiss as he fumbled with his belt buckle, and the taste of yourself on his tongue made you ache. He drew back from the kiss and pushed his jeans down past his crotch. Your eyes went wide at the sight. He was huge, bigger than anyone you had been with before, and the way he was pressed against his boxers told you it had been sheer torture for him when you stopped him from touching himself.

He grabbed your hand and placed it against his erect cock, slightly hissing at the contact even through the material of his boxers, before murmuring “Y’see, baby, do you see what it is that you do to me? Do you understand now why I’ve had to push you away?”

He freed his cock from his underwear and lined himself up with your entrance, before giving you a gentle kiss against your temple. “I’m so weak around you, doll, it’s so hard to hold back.” He whispered in a broken voice against your ear.

Truthfully, you had no idea what he was talking about. The hint of self-reproach in his voice told you that this was something that he had struggled with, but it was too difficult to focus on the meaning of his words when his swollen tip was nudging against you in such a maddening way. So, instead, you chose to reach down to grab his hip and pull him closer, “Then don’t hold back.”

Whatever shred of restraint he had dissipated instantly at your quiet request, and he plunged himself into your wet heat, practically a man possessed with the way that he thrust himself into you.

Everything was him, and you had never felt this consumed by another person. Every sense you had was overcome by him. His quiet voice as he whispered how perfect you were in your ear, the scent of his musk, the rough feel of his calloused fingers against your waist as he held you in place to fuck up into you. All you could see was him and his brown eyes, as he filled the room yet again. Each open mouthed kiss was deeper and sweeter than the last.

The stuttering of his hips indicated that he was about to reach his peak, and he quickly shifted a hand down to rub circles on your clit, determined to ensure that you came before him. “Baby, you’re so good, you’re so good for me,” he panted in a husky tone.

You could see redness travelling down his neck and below the collar of his flannel shirt, but the increased pressure from the masterful way he moved his fingers stopped you from ripping open his shirt the way you wished you could. Instead, you grabbed on tight to his arm, digging your nails into the firm muscles.

“Joel, I-I’m gonna-” your moan cuts off your sentence as something in you snaps. Your toes curl and you clench around him, eyes screwed shut from the radiating pleasure.

“F-fuck, darlin’, look at me, look at me while you cum” he seems to barely get the words out as your walls pulse around him. 

As you were finally able to open your eyes to look back at his face, he quickly pulled out, reaching down to grab his cock and bring himself to completion. You moved faster than him, and wrapped your own fingers around his shaft, wanting to bring him to climax yourself. He practically fell into you, forehead resting against your shoulder as you jerked him off, each whimper he let pass his lips going straight to your core. He came with an extended groan, his release coating your fist. Continuing to gently stroke him through it, you listened to him babble incoherently, repeatedly,  into your ear:  “Fuck, you’re so perfect, you were made for me, fuck-”

“Jesus…” you trailed off with a gentle laugh, before releasing him and moving to wipe your covered hand onto your discarded underwear. 

Joel seemed to be basking in the afterglow, responding with only a hum of agreement as you hopped down from the top of the freezer onto shaky legs. You pulled him close to press a kiss against his cheek. Chaste, after everything that had just happened, but it just felt right with the way your heart was bursting out of your chest. In your rush to go and grab a clean rag from the staffroom, you didn’t notice the way he froze under the press of your lips.

Emerging with a satisfied grin on your face, you spotted Joel standing by the door that was now unlocked and letting in the bright early morning light. He had managed to clean himself up in the brief moment that you took your exit to do the same, and he had his bag strapped across his back, clearly ready to start heading back.

“Easy, Joel, give me a second to regain my balance,” you said playfully, making a show of stretching your legs out. His face was expressionless as he watched you and you felt your stomach drop from the sudden uneasiness that that familiar expression brought you.

Rather than let him keep waiting, you decided to quickly grab your own bag and hoist it onto your shoulder, approaching him where he stood and putting a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of the absent-minded state he was in. He flinched at your touch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked with a feeble attempt at an encouraging smile. 

“Nothin, nothin.” He insisted with a shake of his head, returning an equally unconvincing smile before exhaling sharply and turning his attention to the outdoors. “Just thinkin’ that we really should get goin’. Snow’ll likely start up again soon,”

“...Right.” You confirmed with a dry swallow. 

Something was very clearly wrong. Joel had never been the best liar, and it wasn’t exactly shocking to you that he would be a little apprehensive after everything that had just happened. What was concerning was how he flinched at your touch. The touch he was just begging for, quite literally on his knees with how much he craved you. 

Maybe he just needed a minute, you justified to yourself as you walked ahead of him, allowing him to trail behind slowly. It wasn’t exactly the way Joel liked to operate, he would always be in front of his partner, always ready to be the one to meet the threat head on. It was unsettling, to say the least, that he wasn’t rushing ahead. 

Okay, you continued to rationalize three silent hours later as the tall structure of the Jackson walls came into line of sight, maybe he just needed a few hours. Slowing your pace, you looked over at him and felt your chest tighten painfully at how he pointedly avoided your gaze.

‘What is it, Joel? What’s happening?” You asked feebly, coming to a halt in a small clearing before the forest thinned out to allow for Jackson.

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he spoke. “That shouldn’a happened.”

You blink at him. “What shouldn’t have happened?” You knew immediately what he meant, but needed him to say it.

“Any of that.”

You gave him a resolute look. “But it did happen. We fucked. We both wanted it, and it happened.” You took a few steps closer to him, and the way he stepped back hurt you more than you could have anticipated.

“Well, it ain’t happening again.” 

“Joel, please. Why are you being like this?” You tried to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

He practically ripped his arm away from your  touch, putting even more space between the two of you before he started speaking.

“I can’t give you what you need,” He said unwaveringly.

You raised an eyebrow in response, “I think you just gave it to me pretty good a few hours ago.”

Joel’s unchanging face filled you with a hot rage.

“Joel, you just fucked me and now you’re telling me that, what, you can’t do this? You don’t want anything else to do with me?”

“I’m not the man that you treat me as. I can’t do all of the loving, sweet shit that you would want or need”’

You scoffed in response, unable to stop your voice from raising as you looked at him in disbelief.

“Oh, you’re such a fucking martyr Joel, so brave and strong for coming to this conclusion after getting your dick wet.” You laughed humorlessly. ‘I thought you were an emotionless dick, but this is beyond.”

“It isn’ like that, darlin’, i just-” He suddenly seemed small under your gaze, cold demeanor breaking at your words. No part of you wanted to hear him try to defend himself.

“Don’t. You can have what you want. We’ll go back to Jackson and pretend this never happened. But you don’t get to use that bullshit excuse.” You stomped off past him, shoving your shoulder against his as you walked out of the clearing, back onto the well worn path to the gates. 

He didn’t speak for the rest of the short journey back to the gates of Jackson, following you with a distance of at least 10 feet between you.

As you approached the gates, you heard him call out your name after you. Every part of your brain was screaming at you to just flip him off and go home, but instead you came to a stop a few feet from the gates, and turned to him with an icy glare.

“I-uh. Thought you would’a wanted this.” He handed you the Spider-Man bobblehead that you had already forgotten all about. 

“It was for Ellie. Give it to her yourself.” You said coldly, going to turn back around before he stopped you.

“No, I know. I jus’ thought. Well, it was your idea. And Ellie’s always yammering on about your comic collection, so she would probably appreciate it more from you.”

Your heart clenches. It would have been so simple, so nice and right if he cared about you the way you had come to accept that you cared about him. But he didn’t. Not enough to try for you. Not enough not to hurt you.

You snatched the stupid toy out of his hand and turned away from him, letting him watch you leave without another word.

a/n: ahhhh please tell me what you think!

[rensraptor]

this is everything n i adore u tbh UR SUCH A TALENTED LITTLE CRITTER

guess I should've known from the look on your face

part one of begging for you to take my hand. part two here

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, friends -> enemies -> lovers (kinda)

summary: your tempestous relationship with joel was put to the test after a fuck up on patrol that left you embarrassed and overly defensive. despite every urge to exacerbate the problem, you tried your best to make the most of the situation and get along....mostly.

word count: 7.5k

Despite the ear-splitting gnashing of teeth next to your face and the painful clawing at the raw skin of your décolletage, you couldn’t help that in the back of your mind all you could think was: You fucking moron, you’re going to die in the most embarrasing way possible. Even fear seemed to have left you, as you struggled in the choking grip of the runner in front of you that was desperately trying to sink its teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. All that remained was adrenaline, humiliation, and the sinking feeling that if you were to meet your demise in this moment, it would be Joel Miller, of all people, that found your torn apart frame on the floor. Joel Miller, who had expressly warned you to stay where you were until he returned from checking the back of the building for intruders. Joel Miller, who somehow always made you feel like an incompetent child. 

When you had first approached the roadside gas station and small bait shop that was the destination for your current patrol route, both of you had slowed down and pulled out your weapons at the sight of a beat up pick up truck haphazardly parked across the verge separating the gas pumps from the road. This was new, not having been reported by the previous patrol duo. Joel quickly assumed the position of the team leader.

“Stay here. I’ll check the back entrance,” Joel muttered as quietly as he could, still ensuring that he could be heard over the whistling wind from the snow that had been picking up speed since you first departed from the Jackson gates. As the snow crunched under his boots with each receding step, you were seething. 

The audacity of this man who had spent the last ten months ignoring you to immediately try and give you orders, you brooded silently. You weren’t even supposed to be here, for God’s sake. It was the unfortunate result of poor scheduling over the Christmas holidays, as well as the skilled persuasion by your closest friend, Maria, that you were even stuck on this patrol to begin with. Sure, it was one of the shorter journeys for patrol pairs, one that only required travel on foot, but that was still a miserable three hours with Joel Miller. Three whole hours of curt answers and second-guessing your decisions. So, the instant he was out of sight, you tucked away your gun into your waistband and folded your arms across your chest, rubbing your ungloved hands against the sides of your arms to try and create some warmth.

The natural instinct in you to piss him off outweighed any logic that you’d previously believed you’d been in abundance of, as you made that decision to ignore his instructions so flippantly as soon as he had turned his back to you. Besides, the truck was clearly empty, the store shutters were undisturbed, and there were no tracks to be seen in the snow that had persistently been coating the floor for days now.

The irritation that only Joel Miller seemed to inspire had clearly blinded you to your next bad decision, as you spotted something through the windshield of the truck. A perfectly intact Spider-Man bobblehead, right there for the taking on the dashboard. Ellie would love that. You exhaled hot air into your icy hands to warm them up as you plodded along to the car, already picturing the teens’ excited face at the impromptu gift. The next few moments seemed to pass in bullet time as you heard it within seconds of leaning into the enclosed space of the front seat. The wind was no longer able to muffle the pained guttural groans.

Grotesque and dripping with congealed blood was an emaciated looking runner, face sunken in and ghoulish. It practically scampered up towards you from the floor of the backseat, moving in jerky convulsions while its teeth bit at the empty air in anticipation. You jumped back from where you had been leaning into the car, arm outstretched for the bobblehead, and your heel promptly made contact with a patch of ice. Your ass hit the ground, shooting a sharp pain through your tailbone that you had no choice but to ignore as you attempted to scramble back up to your feet. 

The runner dove head first out from the backseat, the snapping of its jaw seeming to lead its body faster than any of its limbs, giving you the opportunity to send a hard kick directly into its head. Stumbling back up, you were able to grab the handle of your trusty switchblade in the few seconds it took for the beast to reorient itself. 

With a quick dart forward, you plunged the knife into the closest spot that would have any sort of impact on its mobility: its kneecap. At least some of your survival instincts were still in place. You made sure to wrench the knife from side to side, a visceral squelching sound being emitted from the tearing ligaments. In a different life the sound probably would have turned your stomach, but now you were just flooded with gratitude that you actually remembered to sharpen the old blade before leaving.

“Jooooeellll!” You felt the scream for help rip out of your throat, and immediately regretted it despite the dire situation. He would not exactly be thrilled at your blatant disregard for his instructions.

The continued effort to stumble back while avoiding any more patches of ice was proving to be successful, until you felt your back slam painfully against the cold metal store shutters behind you. Fuck. You had miscalculated your distance and had nowhere to turn, despite the monster hobbling towards you being slowed down by its new injury. These creatures didn’t feel pain, so regardless of the fact that you could see the white of bone jutting out from the torn flesh of its knee, it continued to progress forward.

Desperately trying to lift your knife from your side while holding the full weight of the beast back with one arm, you were unable to stop yourself from thinking about what Joel would think of you for your mistakes. The blustery air did nothing to cool the heat in your cheeks as you continued to struggle, hating yourself for even thinking of someone like Joel in the face of literal death.

As you were beginning to lose hope, arms shaking from the effort of holding the runner back, strong hands suddenly appeared from behind its shoulders to drag it straight to the ground. You heard a sickening pop as the partially torn leg finally gave out after being heaved backwards at such a strange angle. You were practically hyperventilating, finally feeling time speed up again as you watched Joel take his boot and slam it into the head of the runner, over and over and over again, until all that was left was a puddle of viscera under his foot. The creature was clearly fresh, still more human than mushroom, and pieces of bone and brain matter decorated the floor. You stared, unable to tear your eyes away from the haunting sight. 

Joel was breathing heavily as he finally ceased his brutalisation of the corpse, seemingly having decided that what was left of the zombie would probably not be able to get back up. He slowly looked over at you, undisguised rage clouding his handsome features, and he clamped his jaw shut.  Any embarrassment that you were still feeling morphed into pure, unbridled shame under the weight of his disdainful look.

“I told you one fucking thing.” Is all he deigned to say. You were glad as you could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears, anyway.

Refusing to give you a second look, he shifted the entirety of his attention to unlocking and lifting the metal roller blocking the door, making it apparent to you that there had been no other threat in the area.

Something like anger and sadness both bubbled up in you simultaneously, and you kept your eyes trained on the ground as you walked to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing you upset. As he locked the door behind you both and began looking around the store shelves for something, you pressed your freezing fingers against your face as subtly as you could, trying to physically cool off the burning sensation in your cheeks. 

You weren’t a child. You weren’t an idiot. The judgement of this man should not have been hurting you as much as it was, but as much as you insisted that you hated him, some semblance of respect and even care for the man still existed deep within you.

A quick glance up to where he was standing reminded you of something that you had somehow spotted outside, despite the carnage. His boots. Green laces. You were the one to find them for him, ten months ago.

His incessant muttering and pacing were really starting to piss you off. Fine, you made a mistake. Fine, you technically could have died. You were already mortified because of it. Did he really have to keep exhaling so dramatically and making as much noise as possible with each empty crate he moved in his not-so-subtle attempt at finding the supplies that he should definitely know the location of? All you wanted was for him to cease his incessant pacing around the dusty shelves, especially since he started to make deliberate eye contact with you over them to send you withering glares.

“Are you done?” You found yourself asking sarcastically from where you were perched on the long disconnected chest freezer pushed against the right wall. You had been fidgeting restlessly with your fingers since you took your seat, trying to calm the slight shake in your hands from the leftover adrenaline.

He lifted his head up from where he now stood, flipping through the worn pages of the log book on the counter. As annoyed as you were, it was hard to deny the way something in your chest still jumped with each brief moment of eye contact.

“Excuse me?” He asked with an exasperated tone, almost as if each word he spoke was physically exhausting him.

“I said,” You finally hopped down from where you were sitting and watching him sulk, and slowly started to take a few cautious steps towards him. A loud creak reverberated out from the rickety old wooden floorboards with each step as you closed the distance between the two of you.

“Are you done? You know, with the whole I'm Joel Miller, I’ve never made a mistake in my life act.” You drawled with an exaggerated Texan accent in your poor imitation of him, feeling emboldened by his increasingly frustrated look. “I fucked up, I know that. You can go right ahead and relax, you’ve already made it very clear that you disapprove.”

He straightened up in one swift movement and threw the pen down against the counter, hands coming down to rest on his hips. Suddenly you felt like a child about to be reprimanded by a teacher.

“Y'know, you’re bein’ awful ungrateful for someone that I could’ve just left there to die.”

It was so typical of him to insinuate that you weren’t as capable or strong as he was, despite the fact that when Joel first arrived in Jackson, you had been the one to show him the ropes. That is, of course, before Joel summarily decided that he no longer wanted to take instruction from you.

It had been a long ten months since that day, and your relationship had become practically non-existent, if not tense and uncomfortable in the few situations you were still forced to interact in. The bond you had built with Ellie meant that there were many days that you had to see him during mornings when you promised to walk her to the schoolhouse. Joel would be sure to give you a polite nod, his Southern manners enduring regardless of the change in your relationship, to which you would roll your eyes or just simply ignore him.

Maria, your closest friend in Jackson, would regularly invite you to dinner with her and Tommy, usually choosing not to warn you that the older Miller brother would be making an appearance. It would take all of your strength to suppress the urge to cuss Joel out at the slightest infraction, knowing that Tommy would be disappointed at how quickly your friendship had disintegrated. 

Truthfully, you were well aware of just how petty and immature you were being. You just couldn’t help yourself when you thought about how good things had been before he made his choice to rebuff you. Your friendship had been easy, and caring, and you had even started to feel…things that you hadn’t ever felt for someone before. Pettiness made it easier to shove those feelings away, even if you knew it wasn’t exactly helping your case that you were definitely, totally, unaffected by his rejection.

You had reached the cracked acrylic counter separating you, and you tried to ignore the way his gaze remained trained onto your face as you approached. The quiet anger was visible in his eyes, like he couldn’t even believe your defensiveness when it was so obvious that you were in the wrong. You slammed a fist straight down on the counter, effectively shutting down the part of your brain that would always lose focus at the mere sight of his deep, brown eyes, angry or otherwise. The sharp pain radiating through your hand acted as the physical reminder you needed to keep your anger burning for him to see, rather than letting it falter under the power of his eyes studying you.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes dramatically, “I had the situation firmly under control. I mean, thank you, obviously, it’s not like swooping in like that didn’t help, but don’t act like I wasn’t a second away from killing that thing myself.”

Joel continued to watch you with an incredulous expression across his face, before he chose to merely scoff in response. 

“Whatever you say, doll," he said in that low, dismissive tone that you were well acquainted with, before picking the pen back up to continue writing his note in the logbook. 

The trait you had grown to hate the most in him was his dismissiveness. As if you weren’t even worthy of his anger, like you were just an incompetent child that he could be done with whenever he chose. It was a trait that was apparently reserved just for you. No matter what you would say to push his buttons, to even get a negative reaction from him, his response was to shut you down and not engage. It exasperated you that that hurt more than if he just yelled at you.

“God, you are the fucking worst, Miller. I’m not just saying anything, alright? I think most people would agree that it was an accurate assessment of the situation. What, do I need to be so fucking touched by your heroism that I’m on my knees with gratitude?” You paused before starting to stammer as you realised the unintended double meaning of what you just said. He clearly also heard the innuendo, if the tightened grip on the pen in his fist was any indication. “I-I mean, like, you’re not a God or…whatever… where I would need to beg for forgiveness at your feet! I fucked up, and you helped, but I would have been fine either way!”

His face betrayed no emotions, just letting you rant at him. You were running out of steam quickly from his lack of response, and your mouth grew dry as you realised that he really had no intentions of participating in your little outburst. It left you, as always, to be the one making a fool of themselves. 

“Well, say something!” You insisted, shoving the book out from under his hand, in an attempt to get him to look up from where he was staring. “Say what you really think of me Miller, say why you always have to make me feel like I’m a fuck up.”

He finally moved to slowly close the logbook and place it back under the counter where it belonged, letting you stand there with your chest heaving in anger that was probably disproportionate to the situation. Joel finally looked back down at your face.

Something in his eyes took you off guard. It felt different to how he had ever looked at you before, almost heavy. In your peripheral vision you could see his hand shift across the counter top, gently tracing his index finger across one of the cracks in the acrylic while his eyes slowly scanned over your facial features. They finally settled on your eyes, and you could tell that any trace of visible anger you had in your face had faded away in anticipation for what he was about to say.

‘You could have died. Y’know that right?’ His tone seemed somehow defeated for even having to say the words.

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably as his eyes remained locked on yours, as if he was trying to make you understand something he was saying, something deeper than just the few words he had used. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your slightly torn shirt as you looked for words. Why did he seem almost…hurt at the thought of something happening to you? Anger or even disappointment would have been explainable, but this was indecipherable to you.

A loud crack echoed through the room suddenly, as some debris outside clanged against metal shutters from the wind. The spell was broken, as you both jumped in place at the disturbance. You decided to take the opportunity to take a small, stabilising, step back.

The only conclusion that you were able to come to about his statement was that he felt guilty. Maybe he thought that you were under his responsibility while you patrolled together, and that he somehow failed? You immediately balked at the thought of Joel somehow feeling responsible for you, as if he thought you couldn’t handle it outside of the walls by yourself.

“I know that I could have died”’ You swallowed bitterly. 

You tap the hand still on the counter against the grimy plastic a few times, deliberating whether you should add something else but deciding against it at the last second.

And yet, as you finally walked past him into the staff room at the back of the store, it slipped out anyway.

“As if that would even matter to you.”

Pushing open the door with some effort, thanks to the rusted hinges, you were greeted with the sight of the supplies that Joel had been working oh-so-diligently at finding, sitting in plain sight on one of two metal storage shelves. The old ham radio that was the reason for you entering the room sat on the small table that took up the corner of the room. 

Before reaching to grab the mic, you paused for a second and leaned back against the shut door, taking in a few deep, calming breaths that evaded you earlier. You hated how easily he was able to bring you to anger, how quickly your face would burn with indignation while he was able to remain as unaffected as always. Whatever you had done to inspire this distaste for you must have been unforgivable, given how it seemed to persist enough that he wouldn’t even be able to spend the effort to argue with you. 

As you gathered yourself you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to your somewhat brief, yet impactful friendship with Joel.

He had shown up just over a year ago, Ellie in tow, and you had immediately accepted them with open arms. You were one of the lucky ones, finding Jackson with your two siblings while you were still in your mid twenties. Having almost ten years of safety and community was enviable to many of those who showed up in Jackson. It was your awareness of this fact that encouraged you to work harder and longer hours than the vast majority of those tasked with the safety of Jackson. It was the least you could do, after all,  and if you were able to do anything that would spare the added trauma for those that had barely scraped their way into safety, you would do so with a smile. 

Joel and Ellie weren’t the first to arrive at the gates  hardened and traumatised at the brutality beyond the gates, and you pitied them. It didn’t come from a place of patronization. They were both clearly strong, physically and emotionally, for surviving what they had. But watching the weary look in their eyes at the comforts you had begun to take for granted had you wishing that the world had been kinder to them. 

By the end of the first week, Tommy insisted that you take Joel on as a patrol partner. He felt that Joel making a friend could soften him up a bit, maybe even break down a couple of the walls that locked out everyone but Tommy and Ellie. Besides, he teased Joel, who else was patient enough to teach an old man like him the proper way to do things? 

You soon found yourself spending all of your spare time with him and Ellie. Between instructing Joel about how to most effectively utilise their horses when facing small groups of raiders, to lounging on their couch as Ellie demanded that he let her get a tattoo for the millionth time, the two became fixtures in your life. As always, Joel’s answer would be a firm not until you’re eighteen to which Ellie would stomp off to the garage, leaving you both chuckling in her wake. 

Joel appeared to like your presence. The one-word answers he had given you at the start or your relationship quickly shifted into full conversations. He always furrowed his brow with put-on disapproval when you tried to teach him your lesson of the week, before, like clockwork, admitting that your methods weren’t too shabby. He even regularly took your advice when it came to Ellie, valuing your input that Ellie was old enough to rebel a little bit. 

Ellie had been so grateful when he finally allowed her to resume hanging out with her new friends following the weed incident, that she gave both of you a huge bear hug. The smile gracing Joel’s face for the rest of the day made your knees feel weak, especially whenever he directed it at you in gratitude for your advice. The embarrassed laugh that followed when you teased him about his own teenage years, courtesy of a drunk Tommy babbling at you one evening, resulted in you needing to grip onto the kitchen counter next to you for strength. 

The third month of your friendship brought with it disapproving shakes of the head from Maria everytime she caught you looking at him for a second too long. You would promptly shrug and make a confused face to indicate that she was the one being weird for even implying that you might have been getting attached.

Family dinners and boozy evenings in the Tipsy Bison continued on a regular basis. Joel was still himself. Gruff and slightly mean towards anyone that wasn’t Ellie or Tommy, but he would laugh at your jokes. Really laugh, in a way that made warmth radiate through your chest and into your fingertips. The elbow nudges that Tommy would give to you in response were a lot less accusatory than Maria’s looks, merely appreciating that Joel had somebody to make him laugh. Ellie had been the one to change him, letting Joel give himself permission to feel joy again, but damn if it didn’t make Tommy relieved to see Joel allow himself that with other people too.

Whenever you would find small things outside the wall that you thought he could use, he would accept with a small smile, rather than immediately rejecting it with a short “I have everythin’ I need.”

Even on days that he wouldn’t be on patrol with you, you would find him at the stables, just coincidentally with an extra thermos of coffee in hand despite his insistence that he just had to check in with the stable workers.

It was these small moments that made you realise that you were falling for him. As much as you wanted to shy away from those feelings, wanting to avoid the potential awkwardness of rejection, you had almost convinced yourself that he was starting to feel the same way. There was something about the way his hand lingered when he boosted you onto your horse, or when he would wrap an arm around you for warmth the second you dared to shiver in his presence.

This delusion came crashing down one summer evening five months into your friendship, as you entered the Tipsy Bison and were immediately pulled aside by Tommy, before you even had a chance to raise a hand in a wave at the table where Joel sat with Ellie and her friend, Cat. Tommy quietly explained to you in the corner of the room that you were no longer patrolling with Joel, effective immediately. He grimaced at your attempt at protest, and even more so when you asked when he was going to tell Joel. The immediate suspicion at this reaction was quickly confirmed when you looked over Tommy’s shoulder at Joel, who was watching the pair of you intently before quickly shifting to look back at the teens sitting in front of him. His face said it all. This was his choice.

You decided to let Tommy off the hook with a quiet, “I understand,” before stalking out of the bar, shoving past the multiplying crowd that tried to funnel inside. 

After a few days of trying and failing to catch him alone between shifts on patrol, you were finally able to grab Joel by the arm and physically pull him aside on his porch as he tried to enter his home late one evening. His refusal to even look at you acted as the fuel you needed to begin your aggressive diatribe.

‘What the fuck, Joel?” You asked, unable to stop your leg from bouncing while you stood. 

“Did you need something?” Was his curt response, face hard and so deeply unlike the way he would typically look at you.

“Why did you want to switch partners? Did I do something wrong?” The wobble in your voice betrayed the hurt you had tried to tuck away inside of you, and you suddenly felt incredibly silly for confronting him. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? I was having dinner with you and Ellie literally the night before. And you’ve been avoiding me since then.” 

He seemed to think through his response carefully before speaking. The warm brown eyes that you were accustomed to were almost black, and his brows were tightly furrowed as he spoke. “Thought it’d be easier to get Tommy to pass the message along. He’s always been the more cordial type. Didn’ think it needed to be a whole thing.” 

He started to unlock his front door, back turning to you as he continued.

“I jus’ felt that things were getting a little too cosy over here. I know what I need to know when patrolling, and I sure as hell don’t need any more hand holding from someone who’s barely known a life that wasn’ all…soft and easy.”

The door opened to the dark hallway and he stepped in and grabbed something from the console table by the door. It was your purple fleece blanket, the one that you, Joel, and Ellie had been sitting under just a few nights ago while watching one of Joel’s favourite westerns. He shoved it towards your hands. “There, been meanin’ to get that back to you. No need to drag this out any longer.”

Your jaw clenched as you stared at the blanket, quickly snatching it from him as the embarrassment flooded your body. How could you have let yourself think that he actually wanted you here with him? 

“Y’know what, Joel. Fuck you.” You said with a sniff. You quickly turned and walked away, refusing to give him an opportunity to respond. 

After throwing the soft blanket in the coat closet of your home haphazardly, you decided to head straight to the Bison for a strong drink. The first good looking man with brown eyes and broad shoulders that you saw ended up taking you home, in the first of your many attempts to extricate your feelings from Joel.

A scraping noise from the other room brought you back, reminding you that you had a task at hand, and with a click of the button on the small handheld mic, you spoke.

“Jackson, this is the bait and tackle shop, checking in.” While you waited for a response from Jackson, you sat on an old stool and angrily picked at the loose threads hanging from the ripped hem of your shirt. Stupid Miller, making you feel inferior and indebted to him. Not even giving you the decency of fighting with you. 

At least a conversation with Alfred, the kindly old man who took the late shift for the radio office in Jackson, always made you feel better. His old war stories of encrypting and sending radio signals got you through many lonely evenings at the Tipsy Bison, and he had become sort of a grandpa-like figure to you.

“Hey there, birdie, we hear ya.” You heard some paper moving, as he shuffled through to find the appropriate area map. “Snow’s getting pretty bad out here, it’s looking like you’re going to need to buckle down and wait it out for the morning. It’ll be a longer walk than usual with the way the wind is whipping up the snow.” No, no, nope. Not happening.

You bolted up and leaned over the table with the radio, as if it was possible that you had merely heard him wrong and getting closer to the speaker would fix things. 

“No, Alf, it’ll be fine, I can’t stay here overnight with-’’ You cut yourself off, suddenly aware of how loud you were talking and let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s just. The snow’s not that bad, we’ll probably be fine walking back.”

Alfred makes some deliberation noises, unnecessarily keeping his mic on the whole time as if he thought it would make you feel better that he was actually considering it, before finally responding.

“I don’t know, kid…I would feel guilty if you froze to death out there. I know you don’t get along too well with that Miller boy.” Alfred hesitates once again, before sighing. “I’m sorry, dove, I can’t let you walk in this weather.”

You groaned dramatically into the microphone, rubbing your spare hand across your eyes wearily. With a quick peek at the shut door in front of you to check for shadows through the frosted glass that might indicate that Joel is listening, you lowered your tone to what seemed like a sufficiently quiet level, and continued. 

“I just. I fu-”  you paused, remembering the old man's dislike for sailor talk. “I made a mistake. Everything's fine, no one is hurt! Just. He's doing that thing where he makes me feel like an idiot. And it just sucks because it’s like I proved him and his stupid doubts about me right. I hate when he’s right.”

“Birdie, you know that you're not an idiot. You do the same job as him, and I can tell you from experience that you don't call back to Jackson with any more issues on the road than he does. Who cares what that silly boy thinks about you? More importantly, are you going to let it get in the way of doing a good job?”

You let a small smile pass onto your face. He knew you well, and your bruised ego for the earlier mishap was already painful enough without adding any more unprofessionalism into the mix. People in Jackson relied on you, and you wouldn’t let a man who clearly didn’t think about you more than he needed to to get into your head.

“You’re right, Alf. If you say we need to hang out here overnight, we can do that.” You made sure to shake off any remaining angst that had uncharacteristically been plaguing you since you first got given this job, and tried to become the person that people in Jackson knew you as. “Just to confirm, we will be utilising the emergency supplies here, so please note down that the food, water, and oil for the lamps will need replenishing by the next pair out.”

You could practically hear the smile on the old man’s face, “Will do, dove. Good night. Don’t kill each other.”

After placing the receiver back in place you take in a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. The herculean task of thanking Miller sincerely and being amicable for the rest of the evening was daunting. It practically made you shudder, but you would be lying if you didn’t acknowledge that there was a part of you excited at the prospect. You missed him, as absurd as that was given your history.

With an armful of sleeping bags, a lamp, a couple of pouches of jerky, and a glass bottle labelled ‘Pete’s- Hands off!’ you exited the staff room, trying to appear as confident as you would be on a typical, Joel-less day. You plopped the items down on the counter unceremoniously, looking up to find him now sitting on an old camping chair in the darkness. Barely any moonlight made it through the thin gaps of the shutters, so you focused your attention on lighting the lamp, ignoring the weight of his stare on your form as you did so.

“Heads up,” you called out a moment later, quickly grabbing and tossing a pouch of jerky at him. The trajectory of the throw was mostly aimed towards his hands, but you did use a careless flick of the wrist that would have absolutely resulted in it smacking against his body if his reflexes weren’t annoyingly good for his age.

The lit lamp that you placed on the floor between you and Joel brought the room into a softer state, and you could see that the earlier anger on Joel’s face had at least partially subsided. You dragged an old crate that once held fishing lures and flipped it, sitting down to his left hand side, before opening your own pouch of jerky and digging into the stale meat. 

"So," You began hesitantly, lifting your eyes from the floor to where he sat, feeling a pang of an emotion you didn’t want to identify when you found him already looking at you. "I guess I just wanted to say thank you. Properly. For saving me, or whatever. I shouldn’t have approached the car without backup."

If it hadn’t been so awkward, you probably would have been laughing at his incredulous face, eyebrows lifted upwards in shock at your sudden attempt at sincere appreciation. When it became clear that you weren’t waiting to attack again, he finally spoke up.

"It’s alright. Could have happened to anyone, I suppose." He seems almost unsettled at your sudden shift in attitude, but also doesn’t seem to want to provoke you again.

You bit back any part of you that wanted to emphasise that it really could have happened to anyone, even with experience, and instead focused on chewing the tough meat. It was surprising to say the least, when Joel was the first one to speak again. 

"Why did you, though? Tommy say something about needing another vehicle?" Joel’s tone was hesitant, as if he felt he shouldn’t be continuing the conversation any further. 

"Oh. Um. No, I wasn’t going to check on the car. I just saw a bobblehead on the dash. Spider-Man. I thought Ellie might have liked it." Your eyes narrowed as you looked at Joel, expecting him to start on you again. What you didn’t expect was the short laugh that followed. It was nice, and you couldn’t help the small smile in return at your own expense.

"Spider-Man, huh? What a reason to risk getting bit." He passed you the final stick of jerky from the pouch he was holding as he spoke. A peace offering. With a wipe of his hands against his jeans, he continued. "Y’all are still close, aren’t you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Your leg bounced at the use of the term ‘still.’ As in, despite everything between us. You batted that thought away quickly. The friendship between you and Joel had crashed and burned after he decided that he couldn’t work with you anymore, but Ellie had only seemed to latch on tighter. Whenever you pointed out that he didn’t seem to think you were worth getting to know, Ellie would roll her eyes at you.

"Yeah, I guess we are. Is that a problem?" You said while shifting in your seat, knowing that he probably would be well within his rights to tell you to stay away from his child. "Because I can tell you right now that despite her insistence, I’ve refused to teach her how to throw knives, at least not until she turns sixteen-" 

"What? No. Should I be concerned?" He cut you off with a concerned look on his face.

Realising that you may have just given Ellie up, you fake a laugh that Joel could have believed if he hadn’t heard your real laugh so many times before.

"No, of course not. That was just a hypothetical." He continued to stare you down, resulting in you giving in more quickly than you were proud of. "Don’t….tell her I told you that."

He gave you an actual laugh at your desperate plea, a sound you hadn’t heard for almost a year. That familiar warmth in your chest and fingertips returned at the sound, and you found yourself chuckling too. Thoughts of all of the times that he would begrudgingly break when you teased him, despite insisting that you weren’t funny rushed through your mind. And how he would threaten to sic Ellie on you whenever you teased him for his achy knees. And how tight your chest would feel when he would look at you over from on his horse while you rode beside each other. As if…No. Nope. Those memories had been securely tucked away in the back of your mind for months now, and you sure as hell were not going to let them out after a year of getting nothing from him. 

You forced the smile off of your face in an instant and stood up somewhat abruptly.

"I-uh, found something in the supplies!" The broad grin you plastered on was an attempt at masking your strange behaviour, but, frankly, a smile from you aimed at Joel was strange enough in of itself. 

Joel watched as you grabbed the glass bottle and lifted it into the air with a little shake to show it off.

"It’s fucking cold in here. This’ll warm us right up!" You said as you uncorked the bottle and immediately tossed back a healthy swig of the mysterious clear liquid. Yep, definitely moonshine. And yes, definitely strong.

A couple of drinks in, and things had already become so much easier between you two. Not only were you both warmer, in spite of the blizzard on your doorstep that was making your breath visible in the air, but you were both laughing freely. 

"And then, he takes the shot and the bullet whizzes by, easily fifteen feet from the deer! The way that smug look dropped off of his stupid face…" You trailed off, cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol that was far stronger than even the typical homemade stuff back at the Tipsy Bison. Whoever brewed this batch clearly anticipated the need for the strongest shit possible in a bottle small enough to fit in an emergency supply cache, and for that you were appreciative. 

You were sitting on the floor,, one knee up and your back against one of the empty shelves that once held fishing rods. The crate you had been sitting on now held your winter coat, inadvisably discarded due to the sudden heat you felt. Joel sat back in his chair, a far sight more relaxed than he was a mere hour ago. He was chuckling at your mockery of Emmett, your current patrol partner who was definitely a beginner at hunting.

Joel’s shadows danced across the dark room as he lightly shook from the laughter, illuminated by the cheap oil lamp that sat in front of you, and you watched with a dazed grin. His presence used to be a comforting one for you, and seeing his shape fill up a room again made you feel strangely at peace. With the gift of alcohol in your system, it was easy to ignore the painful familiarity that came from being with him like this. You bring your chin over to rest on your raised knee as you look up at him while he speaks.

"That boy definitely has too big of a mouth for his own good. I heard him out in the Bison a week or so ago, going off at a couple of the other guys about how he’s always pullin’ all these different ladies." He shook his head in disapproval while bringing the bottle back up to his lips, taking a generous drink.

"Oh yeah? He say anything about me?" You couldn’t help yourself from asking with a teasing grin. Just the previous week you had to turn Emmett down after he insisted that he could show you a good time. He was a handsome young man, but his age and his use of the term ‘older ladies’ when describing his type made it clear that he would be too annoying to even spend one night with. Besides, you were only in your early thirties, and the thought of being with someone that considered that ‘older' made you physically cringe.

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You into him? I didn’ take you for the type that would want a…pretty boy." He says derisively while picking at the label on the bottle.

You were momentarily distracted by the flex of his calloused fingers against the bottle before snapping out of it to respond, "Eh, I guess you don’t know me that well, then do you, Miller?"

His fingers froze in place and he looked at you humorlessly, causing you to awkwardly laugh and acquiesce "Nah, of course not. He just keeps pulling stupid shit to try and impress me. I had to finally put my foot down the other day and tell him that him wasting ammo on trick shots wasn’t gonna let him into my pants."

Joel let out a small breath that sounded sort of like a laugh but not quite, as he resumed picking at the crumbling label and confirming "I s’pose that means you aren't the cougar he was seeing, then?"

A dramatic gasp escaped your lips. "That son of a bitch! Oh, I am going to give him hell next week. No wonder his little buddies have been givin’ me weird looks recently."

Joel laughed for real that time and you were unable to help yourself from relaxing back against the shelf at the sweet sound.

"I don't know why they would partner you with someone like that," he chuckled, reaching over to finally pass you the bottle that he had been holding. 

As you grabbed the bottle, your fingers briefly brushed and you sensed him tense slightly. This action, combined with his previous statement, made your stomach feel weird. The alcohol bypassed the part of your brain that was screaming at you to shut up, things are going well! and you found yourself saying, "Well, I guess they did that so I could teach him a coupl‘a things. Some people benefit from a little hand holding, I guess." 

You trained your stare into Joel’s eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at the way his face fell at you directly addressing how you were once partners.

Quiet taps of your fingernail against the side of the cool glass bottle resting in your hand fill the room while he seems to look for words. Something about your statement caught him off guard, as if he somehow didn’t think that you would remember or care about his words. Realising this unsettled him, and you revelled in the glimpse of vulnerability that appeared across his face. 

"I s’pose that makes sense." He finally acknowledged, looking deeply uncomfortable at the way you continued to stare at him bitterly.

"I guess it does."

A few more beats passed in silence as you waited with bated breath for anything, an acknowledgment, an apology, hell, even another insulting explanation for his choices, anything, but it didn’t come. You let out a quiet sigh, placing the bottle on the floor as you stood and dusted off your pants.

"I think I’m gonna call it a night, Joel."

He nodded without a word, eyes remaining stuck at the point on the ground where you had been sitting. Rather than waste your time waiting for anything else from him, you turned and grabbed one of the thin sleeping bags that sat on the counter, walking over to the side of the room furthest from where Joel was still sitting and rolling it out in one quick move. 

Now that you were far away from the heat he naturally seemed to radiate, the cold suddenly felt a lot more biting against your skin. You crawled into the sleeping bag, rolling to face the wall and pressing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to just fall asleep and get this confusing evening over with. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was a quiet, defeated sigh from the opposite side of the room.

a/n: nobody look at me rn okay, i'm juST TRYING SOMETHING OUT!!!!! okay. well. this the first fic i've written and it's looking like it's gonna be 3 parts. please give me any kind of feedback!!!

also a huge collosal thank you to @sinsofsummers for helping me SO MUCH and generally being the most incredible human angel creature to walk the earth with endless patience

[rensraptor]

Joel + Text Posts