#and just shrugs and is a lot better at not smiling than joel is

[actual-changeling]

listen, @sentientmasstransit i saw your tags on the beautiful drawing of ellie with shimmer and then this just. came over me. and wouldn't budge the whole day. so here it is, hopefully i didn't commit any horse crimes.

-

living with ellie means joel has come to expect a lot of things when he gets his morning cup of coffee ranging from his girl asleep at the table to the time she had decided that six am was the perfect time to learn how to change a light bulb on her own, but being face to face with a horse is not one of them.

the coffee machine is happily gurgling away in the background, which means ellie must have already passed through and felt generous enough to turn it on for him, though she is nowhere to be seen now. joel recognizes it, which is something, and shimmer lets out a relaxed huff when he steps around her to grab a mug. he was not going to do this without caffeine.

during the five minutes it takes him to wait for the coffee to stop spluttering into the glass pot and burn his throat with half a cup that he hastily drinks down, the house continues to stay quiet, shimmer apparently happy to just doze next to the counters.

eventually, he calls out for her.

"ellie, why is shimmer in my kitchen?"

no response.

despite remnants sleep still clinging to him, joel feels the familiar anxiety squeeze his chest and speed up his heart, and he is about to go looking for her when she comes blustering down the stairs, backpack in hand.

"oh. hi, didn't hear you get up."

she glides around shimmer and puts her between them, going to grab two apples from the fruit bowl next to the fridge, and while he knows she has school, he is not about to let this one slide.

"ellie, there's a horse in my kitchen."

"yeah, i know. i put it there."

there is not enough coffee in the entire state of wyoming to get him through her teenage years intact. joel pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take probably his deepest breath in the last month before looking back up at ellie, who is joyfully rocking back and forth on her feet without an ounce of guilt.

"i know i never said so, but i thought it was obvious that we do not bring our horses inside the house."

how she managed to fucking do that in the first place without waking him is a miracle he can figure out later, for now he just wants answers and to get shimmer back outside before she eats his granola. ellie shrugs her shoulders, one hand buried in her fur and gently carding through it.

"she was lonely, i haven't had much time lately with all the stupid homework they give us, and she missed me. so i brought her here last night and we slept in the living room. there's no rule against that."

joel desperately fights the smile hat is determined to settle on his face and fails, the corners of his lips ticking up just enough for ellie to notice, and he gracefully accepts the resignation settling into his bones when her face lights up with triumph. he knows how much ellie loves that horse, hell, he has had to peel her off the bottom of her box more times than he can count when she fell asleep reading, leaning against her legs, and the bond they have formed impresses even most of the regular stable workers. still. he could do without shimmer blocking half the kitchen and scratching their floors.

"just. get her out of here, please. and next time just put her in the backyard, new rule. no horses inside the house."

ellie's eyes gleam with something dangerous, and he quickly continues.

"no animals whatsoever."

her smile falls, but the sigh she lets out is humorous, and he helps her onto shimmer's bare back when it becomes obvious that she won't just act normal for once in her life and lead the horse outside. of course she has to ride it out through the front door. ellie bends down and joel presses a kiss to her cheek to send her off, and, really, how she manages to get through the door frame without getting stuck is beyond him.

joel settles back into his horse-free kitchen and refills his cup to the brim. he is going to have to talk to maria about some horse-related ground rules or next time shimmer might great him face to face first thing in the morning. knowing ellie, if there is anyone who could get a horse up the stairs, it's her.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Taste Her, Little Dove (18+)

Joel Miller x f!reader x female

Summary: Joel encourages you to indulge in your curiosities towards women.  CW: girl on girl (Happy International Women’s Day), oral (f!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pet names (little dove, baby etc.), sub/domme dynamics, sort of voyeurism on Joel's part, male masturbation, lots of orgasms, one night stand AN: practice safe sex!! This is unprotected sex, be better than my writing! STI’s may be less likely in lesbian hookups but please use dental dams or gloves with a partner that you don’t know. Stay safe! Dividers by @saradika-graphics WC 3.6k

More Little Dove Here

You sit at the kitchen table, phone open in one hand reading an article, fresh morning coffee in the other. “What’s it like to go down on a girl?”

Joel almost chokes on his coffee, folding the corner of his newspaper down and looking at you over his reading glasses. 

“Jesus, babe. It’s 8 am!” His hair is tousled with sleep, still wearing just his boxers and a white t-shirt. 

“Didn’t realize 8 am was prude hour,” you joke. Cupping your hot coffee in both hands and inhaling the steam. 

“It’s just not what I thought was going to come out of your mouth.” He says with a laugh, putting the paper down and placing his glasses on top of it. “You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

“Well, I adopted Ellie in my second year of college, the first year I was too busy with classes. I didn’t get those wild college years. You know?” 

The sounds of the morning birds chirping merrily fills the kitchen for a moment while Joel looks at you. 

“Alright. I fucking love it. It’s powerful watching you fall apart as I lick you.” He smirks a little, a dimple forming in his cheek before he sips his coffee. 

“So the same way I feel when I give you a blow job?” You shrug. 

“I guess. I don’t know, the female anatomy is a lot more complex, but finding that right combination of licking and sucking, along with fingers. It’s like…” he trails off, thinking for a moment, “like a game of chess. Every time I go down on you it’s different. Sometimes you like the tip of my tongue to flick roughly, other times you like gentle kitten licks and lots of kisses. I almost have to read you and figure out the best way to win the game.” 

“Huh,” you suddenly feel a little insecure, he’s doing all that work and you - “I just do the same thing every time. Am I doing it wrong?”

“No babes,” he laughs, reaching across and taking your hand in his. His thumb caresses the smooth skin along the top of your hand. “Dicks are pretty easy. Grip them and move up and down. You are amazing at blow jobs.” 

He smiles at you and your gaze falls back to your phone. He picks up his glasses and paper and goes back to reading. After a few minutes, you break the silence. 

“How would you feel about me going down on a woman?” 

His eyes light up as he takes you in, he bites his cheek to stop the shit eating grin he can feel forming. “Go on….”

“I’m curious. I’ve never been with a woman.” 

“Ok,” he folds the paper up again. “Are you doing this for you? Is this something YOU want?” 

“Yes,” you say confidently. 

“Ok. So are you asking for a threesome? Because if I’m being honest, I don’t think I want to be with another woman.” 

“No! Oh god,” you try to stop your voice from sounding horrified, “I don’t want to see you with anyone.”

You’re quiet for a second before adding, “You know what, nevermind. I don’t like this.” 

“What baby?” He asks encouragingly. 

“I feel selfish. I’m going to ask you to let me indulge in my curiosities when there’s nothing in it for you but to watch. I’d want you there.” 

“Hey,” he stands and walks to your side of the table. He stops behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder. “You’re not being selfish. I don’t want to be with anyone else but I sure as fuck would watch you play with another woman.”

Finding a woman was surprisingly easy. After taking Joel’s advice, you put on a little red dress and the two of you headed to a bar near your house. Joel went in first and sat at a booth near the back, ordering himself a whiskey. After touching up your lipstick and fluffing your hair in the rearview mirror you strutted into that bar like you owned the place. Heels clicked on the floor as you walked over to the bar and ordered a martini. You sat there, eyes flicking around at the patrons, trying to make yourself look approachable. 

A gorgeous long-haired brunette woman was sitting across from you with an almost empty drink. This was your chance, you call the bartender over and ask him to send her a drink. As he walked over to her the music in the room seemed louder, and butterflies started to flutter around your stomach. But she took the drink and then came to sit with you. 

She agreed to let Joel sit in the wingback chair in the corner of your room. “I’m not interested though, lover boy. So you can watch but hands off.” 

Joel smirked at her, “Feelings mutual. I’m only interested in my Little Dove.” 

Now that the three of you are in your bedroom, you’re not as confident. She’s completely naked, you just a bra and panties, and Joel sitting in the dark corner, ankle resting on his knee. 

“Give me a colour, Little Dove.” 

“Green,” you say shakily, hands hanging by your sides and eyes dancing around the naked woman in front of you. She steps forward, linking her fingers with yours. You lean into her touch, the tip of your nose tracing down the bridge of hers. 

“Can I take your bra and panties off?” She whispers. You hear Joel stifle a groan, which encourages you to keep going. 

“Yes please,” your hands trail up her arms as she reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. The cool air pebbles your nipples as the garment falls to the floor.  Her soft lips find your neck, kissing towards the dip on your collarbone, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of your lacy panties. 

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, hands sliding into her long hair, guiding her to your aching nipples. Her tongue flicks over one as she gets to her knees, panties slipping down along your thighs as she goes. You use her shoulder to balance you as you step out of your thong. 

“You’re so wet for me,” she hums, kissing up your thighs to your hip bones. You won’t survive if both she and Joel start talking, and that’s further solidified when Joel’s deep voice adds, “Good girl, Little Dove” from the corner of the room. 

Your body shutters as she stands, sucking a peaked nipple into her mouth. She sucks and licks, the other hand teasing your slit. Your head falls back and you gasp at the feeling of her. Being with a woman is so different from being with Joel. She’s soft, her hands are like silk as they move across you. 

“Get on the bed,” you moan. You swear you hear Joel’s breath become heavier as he watches you. When you glance towards him he’s in the same position, chin resting between his thumb and forefinger, elbow perched on the arm of the chair. He shoots you a wink before you climb into bed. She’s on her back, legs open for you and can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of her puffy pink pussy. She’s glistening for you and you swell with pride at how you made her like that. 

Laying on top of her you start kissing her lips and grind your hips into hers. She moans into your mouth, hands grabbing your ass. “I wanna lick your pussy,” she says between kisses, “please.” 

You already know she likes to be in control, it was part of your conversation at the bar and with Joel. The two of you roll in tandem, sheets tugging around you before she throws them off. A groaned ‘holy fuck’ floats across the room. Joel is loving this more than the two of you. 

She settles herself between your thighs, her warm breath hitting your clit, causing it to twitch. She stares up at you as you writhe underneath her, your eyes clamped shut. “Look at me,” she says, voice husky. 

You peel your eyes open, they flick to Joel and then settle on her. The bedside lamp casts warm lighting across her face. She’s truly quite beautiful and you can’t help but notice the similarities between her and Joel. Deep brown hair, and warm amber-coloured eyes, she licks her plush lips before teasing your clit with the tip of her tongue. Pleasure courses through your body and your hips buck forward involuntarily. 

“Sssh,” she hushes you gently, and one of her forearms comes to rest across your pelvis. “Do you like that?” 

“Y-yes,” you coo, “again. Please.” 

“Mmmm,” she hums, teasing you again before adding, “such good manners.” 

Little sparks fizzle across your whole body at her gentle caresses. So different from when Joel devours you. Her arm is slender and soft against your belly, no facial hair to tickle your inner thighs. You moan her name, hands tangling in the sheets as that ache builds. 

“You gonna cum for her, Little Dove?” Joel’s voice is deep and thick with arousal. Your eyes flick back to him, he looks dangerous sitting in the dark like you’re the prey, which is exactly how you like it when it comes to Joel. The tongue between your legs stops and you cry out at the loss, “No, please.” 

She’s quickly up to be inline with you, one hand gripping your face under your chin, squeezing your cheeks slightly. You moan, yes being the prey is exactly how you like it. 

“Don’t look at him. You’re mine,” she kisses you hard before pulling back and adding, “Do you understand?” 

Joel's heavy breathing fills your ears and you can’t help but look at him. “Tsk, tsk,” she taunts and then turns to Joel. 

“I think she needs to be taught a lesson. Is that ok with you?” 

They’re wholly focused on each other, almost as if you aren’t even in the room. “My Little Dove will never learn,” he says, “what do you have in mind?” 

She glances back at you with a mischievous grin, “Come sit behind her and hold her down.” 

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his jeans as he walks over. The bed dips under his weight, he props a few pillows against the headboard before hooking his arms under you and pulling you flush against his chest. His hard cock throbbing against your lower back. 

She laughs at you, “can’t see him now. Can you?” 

You shake your head. “Answer your mistress, Little Dove,” Joel whispers in your ear in quiet demands. 

“N-no mistress,” you whisper. 

“That’s better,” she says, nails tickling your inner thighs. “Open your legs, he’s going to hold you open for me and I’m not stopping until you beg.” 

You swallow hard, Joel’s cock jumps before he reaches for your legs, strong hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, pulling them towards your chest and encouraging you to open more. She dives in with much more hunger this time, lapping at your clit. 

You throw your head back to rest on Joel’s shoulder. “Oh fuuuck, don’t stop.” 

She doesn’t listen, stopping abruptly and laying a quick slap on your inner thigh. Joel hisses in your ear and your eyes widen in shock and arousal. “Watch your mouth,” she says in a dark, commanding tone that you didn’t think a sweet looking woman like her was capable of. 

“Sorry, mistress.” The heat from her slap travels up your thigh to your pussy and it clenches around nothing. “Felt s’good,” you whine. 

“No swearing,” two of her fingers tease your entrance. “Good girls don’t say words like fuck,” her fingers slide into you and you bite your lip hard to stop from swearing and yelling and moaning. 

“Say yes mistress,” she taunts, curling her fingers forward. 

Joel’s strong arms hold you down, you’re completely at her mercy. “Ye - oh god - y-y-yes mistress.” 

“Do you wanna cum, baby?” Joel whispers as she continues teasing you, bringing the tip of her tongue to tickle your clit again. 

“Mmm-hmm,” you moan, turning your head to nuzzle into Joel’s neck. And your body tenses up into his grip. 

“Ask her nicely,” he says. 

“Mistress, fuuu-, can I cum?” It comes out in a high-pitched moan, you’re clenching so hard to not cum, teetering right on the edge. 

“Only if you scream my name while you do it,” she says in her demanding tone, working her fingers inside you faster. 

Joel’s thumbs rub little circles on your legs and after you relax into him you release. Pinned by Joel the orgasm runs through you hard and fast, and it’s over too soon, but she keeps going. That familiar tingle builds quickly again and before you’ve caught your breath you cum again, screaming her name over and over as you cum on her hand and mouth. 

She sucks your clit into her mouth. Stars start to light up in your vision, muscles start to hurt from how badly you’re shaking. As you start to cum again it all starts to feel like too much. “Stop. Stop. Please!” You beg. 

She releases your clit with a pop and slows her fingers. “Look at me sweet girl,” she coos. She smiles at you gently when you make eye contact, it's almost like looking at a completely different person from the woman who slapped your inner thigh just minutes ago, “Do you actually want me to stop.” 

“Yes, sorry. But yes.” You say, gasping for breath. 

She slides her fingers out and Joel releases your legs. They whisper to one another and Joel slides himself out from behind you and heads back to his chair. She pulls you into her arms, head resting on her soft breasts. No wonder Joel likes to cuddle up to you like this, it’s warm and inviting. You can hear her heart beating softly as she plays with your hair with one hand. The other draws little circles up and down the arm you’ve draped across her. 

It’s silent for a while before you start to giggle. 

“What’s so funny, Little Dove?” Joel’s voice is light. He’s used to this part when you come down from the high and have a feeling of comfort and elation. It might be his favourite part, especially now that he’s seeing it happening from the outside. Your cheeks are pink, and your hair is disheveled, but there’s a big happy grin on your face. 

“Fuck. That was….” You trail off, looking up into her brown eyes. “Well, that was amazing.” 

“Good,” she cranes her neck to kiss you lightly. 

“Umm, can I?” You ask, hand trailing down her body and stopping just above the slit of her pussy. You pout out your bottom lip at her, eyes turned soft and pleading. 

“Christ, lover boy.” She says to Joel but doesn’t break eye contact with you, “How do you ever say no to this sweet girl?” 

Joel chuckles from the corner. “I don’t.” 

You take her sly smile as a silent yes and climb on top of her, taking one of her nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while you use your knee to nudge her legs apart. Kneeling between her parted thighs you kiss across her chest to her other nipple, cupping her breast in your hands and massaging them gently. 

Hearing her little moans leave her lips is intoxicating. When Joel moans it’s usually deep and from his chest, but she’s so pliant to you right now, sweet, little high-pitched whimpers leaving her parted lips. 

You kiss down her body, gently nipping at her hip bone, a small squeak of surprise fills the room. You kiss the sore spot gently and settle yourself between her legs. Now that you’re this close to her pussy you are almost unsure of yourself. You swallow the lump building in your throat. Joel can see you hesitating. 

“Taste her, Little Dove,” he whispers. “Just place a long lick from the bottom to the top. Go slowly.” 

You place your tongue flat near the entrance and slowly slide your tongue up. She tastes amazing. Sweet with a hint of saltiness, she gasps and twitches as you hit certain spots. 

“Did you feel that, baby?” Joel asks. 

You nod your head and repeat the same lick, mapping out the spots that drive her wild. Once you have them figured out Joel speaks up again, “Good girl. Use the tip of your tongue and put more pressure on those spots. Swirl your tongue around them. Figure out what makes her twitch.” 

“Fuck this is so hot,” she whimpers as you follow Joel’s instructions. 

You swirl your tongue around her hardening clit, before lapping up the fresh wave of her arousal, moaning at the taste of her. She’s shifting underneath you, one of her hands tangling in your hair. 

“Tease her with your fingers, Little Dove. Slide one in, just a little while you lick her.” 

“Yesyesyes” she chants, breaths coming in quickly. The way her breasts rise and fall causes a throb in between your legs. You thought you were orgasmed out but she looks incredible. You slide your middle finger in, stopping at the first knuckle, curling it forward. She cries out, you aren’t ready for her to cum yet so you pull your tongue away and place little kisses around her mound, carefully avoiding the sensitive spots as you explore her more with your finger. 

“You’re so tight. Do you want me to use two?” You ask, sliding your finger in all the way. If you were Joel, you’d never want to be anywhere else than in between your legs. He was right, this is a feeling that can’t be described. There’s an almost overwhelming sense of power once you’ve figured out what they like and have relaxed enough to enjoy it. 

“Please. Oh god - yes please.” She’s almost mumbling the words between moans and when you slide your ring finger in with the middle her legs start to shake. 

“You gonna cum?” You ask, kitten licking at her clit. 

“Don’t stop,” she whines. You curl your fingers again hearing the squelching of how wet you’ve made her and then suck her hard little clit into your mouth. She calls your name out to the room, “Yes yes. Just like that. Fuuuuuck.” 

You can feel her cunt tightening around your fingers. “Stay at the pace, Little Dove. You’re doing so well.” Joel’s voice seems thicker and you wonder if he’s touching himself, but you keep your focus on her. She looks like a goddess in the dim lighting of the room, head thrown back and mouth open, calling out your name through her moans. You feel the wetness between your thighs growing. 

“I’m gonna cum,” she cries before you feel her pussy spasm around your fingers. You keep your pace the same, curling your fingers forward and tracing the edges of her pulsing clit. You’ll go until she says to stop, even if your jaw is starting to cramp. You feel drunk watching her, this is so much better than you could have imagined. 

“Ride me,” she says, squirming out of your grasp. She straightens one leg and you crawl up, straddling yourself around her raised leg, hooking her knee in your arm across your body. The wetness between the two of you is magical, sliding your clits against each other. 

You can see Joel now, he shifts in the chair as he removes his jeans, freeing his cock from his boxers. He spits in his palm and starts to stroke himself in time with the two of you. 

“Does that feel good?” She asks, bringing your eyes back to her. 

You nod, biting your bottom lip as the tension behind your belly button starts to build. You grind your hips in slow circles as she moves back and forth, both of you growing wetter. 

“God your pussy feels so good against mine,” you moan between her gasps. “You’re making such a mess.” 

She wraps her hands around your hips and pushes you down onto her hard, grinding into you faster as both of you start to breathe heavier. “Don’t fuck stop,” she whines. 

“So needy. This little pussy,” you say. You’re not entirely sure what’s come over you, Joel’s ragged breaths from his chair fill you with encouragement, he loves hearing you talk dirty to her. “Wanna cum all over your tight cunt.” 

You hear Joel’s breathing jump, glancing over to see him spilling into his hand. The tension in your stomach snaps, and you look back at her as the two of you cum together, grinding sloppily. The sounds of your wet pussy’s rubbing together and your moans and squeals are the only thing you can hear. 

You both ride it out together, you feel like you’ve been cumming for hours by the time it slows. Both of you calming your movements. You kiss her kneecap before falling to the bed beside her, the two of you gasping for breath. Joel sits quietly, smiling over at you. 

“Fuck,” she says after a few minutes of silence. “Are you sure you aren’t a lesbian?” 

You and Joel both laugh. “I think it’s safe to say that my Little Dove is bisexual.” 

You giggle to the ceiling and then look towards her, “I think it’s safe to say that I’m only straight for Joel Miller.” 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @wannab-urs

[joelsgreys]

family

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You and Joel have some news to share with Sarah.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) pregnancy, small age gap (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 35). fluff, fluff, fluff, Joel and Sarah being the most adorable father daughter duo.

word count: 3.3k

a/n:this is my response to this request right here; a huge thank you to whoever sent this one in!

You let out a small, tired sigh and wiped the back of your hand across your forehead. The early afternoon lunch rush at Moe’s Diner had just ended and you were exhausted beyond belief. Moe’s was one of the more popular locally owned joints in Austin, Texas, and while having a lot of customers coming into the establishment meant earning heftier tips and of course, a bigger paycheck, there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but wish that you could have at least one slow day, just one single day of the week where you weren’t waiting about a dozen tables all at once.

The moment you dropped the last stack of used plates into the plastic gray bin for Hugo, the dishwasher, to come and collect, you washed your hands thoroughly with soap and warm water and then made your way over to the old, electronic cash register behind the main counter to punch in the tips you’d earned after the rush; an hour’s worth of working and you had already made about a hundred bucks to take home at the end of your shift. As you finished logging your earnings, you could feel a pair of eyes watching you from a distance. You didn’t even need to look up to see that it was Joel. He had made something of a habit of coming to join you on his lunch hour. He’d been working longer and longer days lately, and if his only chance to spend time with you was during his lunch break, then that is exactly what he was going to do.

You tossed your receipt into the register and closed it up, turning to your coworker, Melinda. “Alright. All the tables have been cashed out, cleared, and wiped down,” You informed her, sticking your own copy of the receipt for your tips into the crisp, white apron of your uniform. “Mind if I go and take a break now?”

“Go right ahead. Don’t want to keep lover boy over there waiting for too long,” Melinda responded with a teasing wink.

“Oh, shut up,” You snipped at her, although the smile was evident in your tone of voice. You turned around and quickly poured two cups of coffee, a regular for Joel and a decaffeinated roast for yourself. Last week during your doctor’s appointment, your obstetrician reassured you that it would be a while before you really had to start easing up on the amount of caffeine you put into your body, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to start weaning yourself off of it while you were still in the earlier stages of pregnancy. Better to deal with the withdrawals sooner rather than later. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to help you with the next rush,” You told Melinda over your shoulder. You took the two cups in your hands and walked over towards one of the booths in the far corner of the fifties themed restaurant where Joel had chosen to sit today. You set his cup of coffee down in front of him and kissed his cheek lightly before sliding into the booth across from him. “I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. Two for one lunch special brought in a lot more people than Moe had anticipated.” You rolled your eyes, gently shaking your head. “He understaffed us. Again.”

Joel frowned as he noted, “I can tell. You look exhausted.”

“Which is basically code for, you look like shit, isn’t it?” You asked him teasingly.

“S’not what I meant and you know it,” he replied, rolling his eyes at you as he took a careful sip of his coffee. “You shouldn’t be workin’ so damn hard, y’know. S’not good for you to strain yourself, not in your condition.”

“In my condition,” You mimicked him with an amused little chuckle. It earned you a stern glare. “Oh come on, Joel. I’m only about six weeks along.” You shrugged your shoulders and then leaned back into the seat of the booth. “Come back to me with that bullshit when I’m in my third trimester and waddling around this place.”

Joel snorted. “Well, I’m hopin’ that by that time, you won’t be workin’ at all.”

Your playful smile faded slightly from your face. “What are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms stubbornly over your chest. It baffled you that he would even suggest such a thing. “We have a baby on the way. That means that I have to work, Joel. I have to work for as long as I possibly can before it comes. And then after a couple months of maternity leave, I’m going to have to come back and work some more.”

“Wait a minute, what about school?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you. “How exactly do you plan to juggle studyin’ while workin’ and bein’ a mom too?”

Stumped on how to answer him without upsetting him, you remained quiet and chewed nervously on your bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t exactly told him yet, but the reality was that you knew it would be tough to handle all three and there was a pretty good chance that your teaching degree would have to be put on the back burner for an indefinite amount of time.

“You’re not givin’ up on that degree,” Joel asserted, as if he had read your thoughts. “No way in hell, I won’t let you. You only have one year left,” he reminded you firmly. “Look, business has been boomin’ on my end of things. If it stays that way, I can get you out of this place. Let you focus on bein’ a mom and gettin’ your teachin’ credential.”

You bit back a sigh. “Joel, it’s a bit too early to even be talking about all of this, don’t you think?” You said after a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the conversation. “There’s no need to worry about that stuff yet.” Noticing the exasperated expression on his face, you outstretched your arm across the able and held out your hand. “I’m serious, Joel. I don’t want you to worry about it, not right now.”

He smiled warily as he took your hand in his. He leaned over and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “Look, I know it’s early,” he acknowledged. “But I’m just plannin’ ahead.” He paused long enough to press another kiss onto your hand. “I just wanna take care of you, darlin’. That’s all.”

“I know you do,” You replied softly, squeezing his hand. You could see Melinda over behind the counter tapping the invisible watch around her wrist as if to tell you that your time was running out. “What time do you have to be back at the job site?”

Joel glanced down at his watch, but it was useless. The damn thing had stopped working once again, and yet he refused to take it to get repaired. “Probably have to start headin’ back soon, actually,” he realized, the disappointment present in his tone. He hadn’t gotten nearly as much time with you as he would have liked. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Tommy said he’s not gonna be home for dinner tonight,” he informed you. “Said he’s spendin’ the night with a buddy, but we both know what that means.”

You giggled. “Another blonde he met at the bar, huh?”

“Yeah, sounds ‘bout right.” Joel laughed and rolled his eyes. “But anyway, I was thinkin’ that tonight might be the night to finally tell Sarah, seein’ as it’ll just be the three of us. What do you think, baby?”

You squeezed his hand again. “I’m kind of nervous, Joel. About telling her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Joel wasn’t nervous for Sarah’s reaction because he’d thought she would feel negatively about the baby or about you. Rather, he knew his teenager would be horrified thinking about how this blessed miracle came to be seeing as he’d signed a permission slip for her to learn all about the birds and the bees in health class at school last semester. At thirteen, Sarah was in that one stage where anything that Joel did embarrassed her—or grossed her out.

And this would certainly gross her out.

“Jesus, here comes round two of the rush,” You muttered, watching three large parties of people walk into the diner. Reluctantly, you released Joel’s hand. “I should go and help Melinda. Besides, you really need to get back to work before you’re late.”

Both you and Joel slid out of the booth and stood up. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest in one of those tight, warm hugs that you’d grown to adore over the last couple of years. “I’ll be home on time for dinner tonight,” he promised you. “If you need anythin’ while I’m at work, you let me know, alright?”

You chuckled. “Yes, Joel.”

He let go of you and stood back, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m serious. You need anythin’ at all, you call me, alright? My phone will be in my pocket.”

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” You insisted, shaking your head as you laughed. “Now go on, get going before your boss chews you out for being late.”

“I am my boss, darlin’.” He grinned boyishly at you before pressing his lips lightly against yours, murmuring gently against them. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ugh, this is too good.” Sarah let out a small groan of satisfaction as she took another bite of her spaghetti. She turned to you a minute later, dabbing at her mouth with her paper napkin before telling you, “Have I told you that it’s my favorite? Because it’s my favorite and I simply must give my compliments to the chef.”

You lifted your chin slightly, feeling pleased with yourself. “Thank you.”

Joel pouted, feigning offense. “Now wait a damn minute, I thought the spaghetti that I made you was your favorite?”

“Dad, you use the jarred crap,” Sarah reminded him. “Her sauce is homemade. She actually makes it from scratch, like you’re supposed to.” She pointed her fork at him. “Your spaghetti is just one step above Chef Boyardee. And that’s being generous.”

Joel picked a crouton from the salad bowl in the middle of the table and flicked it at her. “Turd.”

“Bigger turd,” she shot back at him with a tiny giggle as she picked up the crouton and popped it into her mouth.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” You chuckled, waving a hand. “Settle down you two or I’ll put you both in timeout.”

“Y’see what you do? Gettin’ us in trouble,” Joel joked before biting into a slice of garlic bread.

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him. “You started it.”

You giggled, shaking your head.

You adored the dynamic between the two, although there were times when it could be a bit much. Somehow, you seemed to bring a bit of balance to it all—you had become the calm, level headed presence if and when Sarah and Joel’s antics ever went overboard.

You wouldn’t have it any other way, of course.

Although Joel had been seeing you for about two or so years now, he hadn’t introduced you to Sarah until six months into the relationship. You hadn’t been offended by that in the slightest—you knew that he’d done his fair share of dating around before you came along, and he had made the sore mistake of introducing his young, impressionable daughter to a large number of different women who, in the end, never stuck around. Not wanting to cause any further confusion or strife for Sarah, Joel vowed never to bring another woman into his daughter’s life again, not unless he was absolutely certain it was someone who would actually stay.

That woman turned out to be you.

Joel had met you when he and his younger brother, Tommy, walked into Moe’s one afternoon for lunch. Tommy set his sights on you first, flirting up a storm, but it was Joel who you’d connected with. Joel ended up visiting the diner several times after that, going in for a cup of coffee at least every other day until he’d finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date. That one date turned into two, two turned into three, and by date number six, you two had completely fallen for each other. Joel realized early on that you were the real deal, but nevertheless, he still chose to wait to introduce you to his then eleven year old.

When the time to meet Sarah finally came, you’d been so nervous; you were in love with Joel, but you knew that if his daughter didn’t like you, it could all come crashing down. Your first interaction with Sarah had been a little awkward, but as you got to know each other, things slowly started to shift in the right direction. The more time you’d started spending around her—with her—the closer you two became and your bond eventually flourished.

A few months later, you moved in with her, Joel, and Tommy.

“It’s going to be so nice having another girl around here,” Sarah had told you excitedly while helping you unpack a box of your things in Joel’s bedroom. “There’s way too much testosterone around here.”

The two of you had become inseparable.

Joel often liked to joke that she liked you more than she liked him.

He wasn’t totally wrong about that.

All you could do was hope that the news of the baby wouldn’t change how Sarah felt about you. You loved Joel, of course, but you’d grown to love Sarah too. They were your family.

The timer that you’d set on the oven started beeping loudly, pulling you from your train of thoughts. “Those would be the cupcakes that I made for dessert.”

“Chocolate?” Sarah asked you with shining, hopeful eyes.

“Of course. What other flavor is there?” You winked as you stood up from your chair.

She punched the air lightly. “Yes! Can I help you frost them?”

“As soon as they cool down,” You promised, touching her shoulder lightly as you walked by her and off into the kitchen.

“Tonight just keeps getting better and better,” Sarah sighed contentedly, picking up her fork.

Joel watched her for a moment in silence, a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said after minute or two, garnering Sarah’s attention. “You really like her, don’t you, kiddo?”

“Of course! She’s got to be like, the coolest person ever,” Sarah remarked in between more bites of her pasta. “What’s not to like? She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s fun to talk to,” she started ticking things off her list. “She has amazing taste in movies and music. Oh, and she lets me borrow her clothes.”

He laughed, suddenly realizing that the Red Hot Chili Peppers band tee shirt she was wearing actually belonged to you. “You’re askin’ for her permission to wear her stuff, right?”

Sarah batted her eyelashes innocently at him. “She said that I didn’t have to ask. In fact, she said I could just help myself to her side of the closet whenever I wanted.”

Joel tossed another crouton at her. “I don’t care what she said, it’s still polite to ask, missy.”

“I’m just kidding, dad! Jeez,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course I ask her. You didn’t raise a heathen.”

Joel snorted lightly and leaned back into his chair. “Sometimes I ain’t so sure about that, babygirl.”

After a minute, Sarah’s eyes met his across the table. “Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“You like her a lot too, don’t you?”

“A hell of a lot,” he answered, honestly. “You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like her.”

“Me either,” Sarah admitted. “But I’m really glad that you did.” She paused, offering him a tiny, but genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy, you know?”

Joel’s heart warmed inside of his chest. He lightly kicked her foot underneath the table with his. “Look at you being a big ol’ pile of sentimental goo.”

“And this is exactly why I don’t ever say anything,” Sarah huffed, but she giggled. “You always ruin it.”

“Always ruin what?” You asked as you walked back out of the kitchen. You took your seat and picked up your glass of iced tea looking between the two. “What did I miss?”

“Oh nothing, my dad is just being annoying, as always,” Sarah kidded before she began to polish off the remainder of her dinner.

A long, but comfortable silence fell over the table.

You glanced over at Joel, wondering when it would be time. His gaze met yours and he raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking you if you were ready. Although you weren’t, you gave him a subtle nod.

Joel cleared his throat. “Sarah?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s somethin’ that we want to tell you,” he began to say, earning himself a puzzled look from his daughter. He hesitated, as if trying to figure out the best way to just spit it out. “We’ve been wantin’ to tell you this for a couple of weeks now, but we wanted to find the right moment and well, I think this is it—we’re havin’ a baby.”

Sarah’s fork clinked loudly against her plate as she dropped it in surprise. “What?” she gasped, her wide eyes flicking to you. “Are you freaking serious?”

You nodded, wondering if that was a good reaction or a bad one. You couldn’t quite tell just yet. “I’m having a baby,” you confirmed, lifting a hand and running it nervously through your hair.

Sarah stared at you, her eyes still wide and what looked like a smile threatening to break out across her face. “Swear it?”

You exhaled a breath of relief. “Swear it. I’m six weeks right now.”

Letting out a little squeal, she jumped up from her chair and ran over to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders. “I can’t believe this!” She squeezed you tightly—a little too tightly. “Do you know what it is yet? When will you know? Can we start looking at baby stuff this weekend? Can we buy it clothes already?”

“Sarah, breathe.” Joel shook his head, although he was grinning from ear to ear. “And more importantly, let her breathe.”

“Shut up, Joel. She’s fine,” You waved a hand dismissively at him as you wrapped your arms around her, hugging her back. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sarah exclaimed as she pulled away. “This is the best news ever! I’ve been all by myself for so long!”

“Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?” Joel threw his hands up and then brought them back down onto his lap.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Sarah shrugged. “Well, it’s just been me all these years, dad. But now I get to have a little brother or sister.” She paused and glanced at you. “Is it wrong to say that I really, really hope it’s a girl?”

“Then it would be three against one,” Joel realized, the color draining from his face slightly. “Jesus Christ, I really hope it’s a boy.”

“You have Uncle Tommy.”

“He doesn’t count.”

“Joel!” You snapped at him, causing Sarah to throw her head back and laugh. “Don’t say that.”

“The score is even,” Sarah stated. She pointed a finger at him as she walked back to her chair and sat down. “Two boys, two girls. The baby will be the tie breaker. When will find out what it is?”

“In a few more weeks,” You responded, chuckling at the way her face fell. “Trust me, they’ll go by faster than you think.”

“I can’t wait!” Sarah beamed brightly, looking between the two of you. “Oh man, this is awesome.”

Joel tilted his head curiously at her. “Yeah? You happy, babygirl?”

“I get to have a family,” she murmured, her hand resting lightly on her chest. “A real family, like the ones you see on TV or in the movies." She looked at him, her eyes twinkling brightly. “Happy doesn’t even cover it, dad.”

[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

[nexusnyx]

imagine being loved by me

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 6 — The night we said goodbye. [“This is harder than I thought it’d be.”] [2.5k]

— joel miller x f!reader — a/n: this is mostly fluff and angst, hence the lack of warnings. i hope you guys enjoy this even though there's no smut. there are a lot of feelings to make up for that? anyway, i just wanted to imagine being loved by Joel (in the given canon circumstances) and this is what I came up with. enjoy <3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | part two →

"Eternal tourists of ourselves, there is no landscape but what we are. We possess nothing, for we don't even possess ourselves. We have nothing because we are nothing. What hand will I reach out, and to what universe? The universe isn't mine: it's me," you stop there, uncertain and nervous for more than one reason. "You want me to go on?"

Joel only grunts beneath you, and the palm he has wrapped around your calf starts rubbing there. He's a man of very few words — always has been — but you recognize his cues. Go on, the circles on your skin say. And — "I like it a lot when you read," he speaks, startling you for a second. "'s nice."

Three years since you've been doing this — years, and this is the night Joel chooses to speak his mind.

You grit your teeth and put on a smile, no matter how much it aches to do so. "Look at you, borrowing Pessoa's ability to use words 'n all," you tease.

Joel pinches your inner thigh — a warning.

You take one of your hands out of the book to poke his side — I'm not scared of you. Never was. Never could be.

Even if he's about to break your heart.

You continue reading.

He keeps on drinking it in, and you wonder not for the first time if Joel hears a word that comes out of his mouth or if this is just white noise for him.

I like it a lot when you read.

Inside your chest there's a special place saved only for the things Joel gives you as a gift.

There's no space for material things in the world you live in now. Being a man of very few words, you learned how to read Joel Miller from the moment you met him — a useful skill, one that came in handy over the past few years. People misread him a lot. Mostly because he allowed them to; sometimes because he wanted it that way.

They thought Joel was gruff. Callused.

You knew better.

Joel's body language never lied.

He gifted you things that way — a shrug of his shoulders that hid the fathom of a smile creeping up his face. His furrowed brows pierced together whenever someone spoke in louder tones in your presence. The ghost of his hand hovering over your back in between meetings, or the way he never looked you in the eye before kissing you.

All of them signs. All of them a way for him to communicate.

That was funny. I don't like their tone. I've got your six.

I can't let you see within me.

Joel might as well be an open book.

When Tess introduced the both of you, she said, "Just don't gain expectations. He's like us — lost everything. But he's a decent man, which is more than we can say about half of the people that made it."

A decent man was an understatement.

He was everything and then some in between.

Joel kept it simple when telling you that he and Tess had to leave.

Neither one of them owed you explanations, but they gave you one either way. The three of you ran something together — an illegal, dangerous, and fragile something, but it was yours. Built it from your hands.

They claimed you were the brains.

"You gotta stay," Joel stated. Not a request, and nothing in his eyes that said this is open for conversation. "Marlene gave us very little info. We'll try to make it back as soon as we can."

The implicate we don't know if we'll make it back was there.

You never missed the unspoken words.

"Okay," you agreed, because there was nothing else for you to do.

Tess had left with the kid. She hugged you, giving you the full list of contacts that would be seeing you for things, and said, "Take care of yourself" in the way she always did.

Joel stayed behind to collect what he needed, and because he said a day wouldn't make a difference.

Was it over-confident on your part to allow the fluttering in your chest to take full form after seeing him drop his things on your hardwood floor and ask you to go for a walk? Was it wishful thinking to know he was stealing moments?

The familiar sight of his back gives you comfort as you follow him.

That's the way it's always been — you always knew that one day, you'd see this for the last time.

Maybe it's a small mercy that they're leaving.

It's been years—much longer than you initially thought you'd have, much longer than you prayed for after the first night Joel knocked on your bedroom door seeking the comfort he saw in your eyes you were dying to give him, much longer than you dreamed you would have amidst all the chaos.

He walks through the broken gate and keeps the wire lifted for you to pass.

Those things — the little things no one pays attention to.

"Thanks," you smile at him.

He hums as an answer and keeps walking by your side until you're both on the open field. After checking the area, Joel lays down with a grunt, patting the grass next to him.

That's when you started reading.

He just pulls out the book from his backpack and hands it to you.

Read for me, please.

"From where we left off, or you want me to go back a few?" Sometimes, Joel fell asleep mid-chapter. He liked when you went back a few so he never missed a thing.

He shakes his head. "I was listenin'," he lets you adjust yourself on the tree, and lays with his head on his backpack, pulling your legs over his body. Cradling your calf in his palms. "Go on."

So you do.

The sky is losing its light by the time Joel takes his arm out of his eyes, and puts a hand in front of the pages.

You bookmark it, even if he'll never hear the end of it.

For some reason, you stay quiet with him.

Usually, the silence is filled with you — your ramblings, questions about the world from before, silly musings that he indulges in listening to.

There's something tragic about being alive nowadays.

It's not really living — it's this. Reading between the lines, and claiming your stomach is satisfied because of the crumbs.

Joel's hand caressing your skin was a whole meal.

His eyes on you, above everything else, were like water.

When he speaks, it's gruff. "You gonna take care of yourself while I'm gone, right?"

If one day you held back, today is not it. "I will. Can't undo all your hard work."

He frowns, "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, c'mon, Joel. It's just us. You and I both know I'd never be alive if it weren't for you and Tess."

"Bullshit. You're the—"

"Brains, I know," you interrupt. "But without the brawn, the brains can't make it that far."

He scoffs at that, and you realize your mistake only when the words are out. "Think we both know nature said that ain't the case anymore."

"Stupid nature," you curse without any heat, and it works. Joel's lip twitches, itching for a smile. "All it's good for is being gorgeous."

"Hm. That'd be you."

Well. They aren't the first nice words Joel's ever said to you, but they make up an even bigger space than everything else. The little box in your chest engraved with J.M. is blanketed in those three little words, and judging by the way he ducks his chin and looks down, Joel noticed his slip up a heartbeat too late.

"Are you gonna take care of yourself?" you ask, nudging his side.

Joel sits up before he answers, taking the place next to you. Then, he spreads his legs and pats the ground between them, and you take the invitation.

Sitting with your back to his chest and his arms around you is your favorite place to be, and something clutches at your throat at the realization this might be the last time.

"I always do," he finally answers.

Your throat is tight, so you place both hands over his arms and pull them tighter around you. "Good," your voice drops to a whisper. "Can't let stupid nature have you."

"She gets us all in the end."

"I know that. I meant before your due time," you insist.

Joel's only half-listening. When he starts rubbing his nose on your hair, tracing the outline of your ears, that means his attention is divided. "How d'you know when's one's due time?"

"Hell if I know. But I know it's not now."

"Yes, ma'am," he plants a kiss on your neck, and you forget words for a while.

Joel always knew how to do that.

He kissed you awake, and sometimes, he kissed you to sleep.

It was common for the two of you to just sit and exist in silence. In a world where there wasn't much space for anything — not for words, or feelings, or relationships, or growth — having this was out of the curve. Having comfort.

He never tensed around you.

When it's just the two of you, Joel's body is the most relaxed; whether it's due to your hands squeezing his muscles or the way you run your palms through his skin to bring him back to himself—he's at ease.

Laid back, shoulders slack. He keeps on leaving kisses across your neck and nape, and you keep your eyes closed, enjoying the proximity. Your nails run through his forearms, and eventually, Joel just stops there in the crook of your neck, breathing slowly.

He asks, "D'you mind if I take your bandana? The purple one?"

Your favorite bandana. His 'lucky charm', as he'd called it once. "No, you can have it."

"You ain't gonna miss it?"

I'll miss you, Joel. A piece of cloth makes no difference in my life. "You need the good luck charm more than me."

"Is that so?"

You scoff, "I'm not the one walking head-first into danger." Craning your neck to look at his face, you lean your head on his shoulder. Joel's face is impassive as always, aside from the little pinch between his brows. "It's your good luck charm, isn't it?"

"It is," he replies, faster than you're used to. A smile grows back on your face. "What?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Just — didn't think you'd ever say that again."

He shrugs his shoulders. "'s the truth."

"What made it lucky?"

Joel takes a second with that one. His hand around your upper body finds the collar of your shirt, and he plays with it. He's nervous, and you have no idea why. He shrugs as he says, "Dunno."

Bullshit. "Hmm — something tells me you do."

"Yeah?" he's smiling now.

"Yup," you press, popping the 'p'. Joel stops fighting his smile, and you want to kiss him, so you do. Most of the time, you use restraints around him. Now is not the time for restraint. "Tell me," you plea.

He sighs, the smile still on his face. "That first time I was trying to find alternative routes in and out of the QZ, remember?"

"Yeah."

"So — I'd lost my way. Some Clickers found me and I had to run. Lost my shit—dropped some of the stuff in my bag. I only found my way back 'cause two days later I tried the bridge over the place I got lost at initially and — there it was." Joel's fingertips are tracing your collarbones, and you realize now his body around you is the only thing keeping you from a collapse. "I saw that ugly thing from far, far away."

It makes you laugh — of course he's going to play it cool, make it less of what it is.

You get it. If you had to talk about the things that brought you a sense of home, the only thing that came to mind was the smell of Joel's deodorant mixed with the innate smell of him.

You hide your laugh in his chest, and Joel's hands come up to your nape and the back of your head.

The hurt bubbles up with his touch — you want to drown in your own tears, but he's still here and that would be going before your due time.

"Please be safe." It's rare for you to use the space between the lines, but sometimes you have to.

Please be safe because I need you. Because you've grown inside me. Because the smell of you are vines covering every inch of my ribcages, because every time I wake up and you're lying next to me I remember why we're humans, because Fernando Pessoa might have been right that we possess nothing, but what I am is someone who still knows love.

"I will." Joel heard it all. He pulls your head back to look into your eyes and you see it in his — through the guarded walls of his soul, you get a peak at the man who worries. Who always brings you coffee, who never allowed you to go on dangerous runs, who trusts you to keep his radio codes in case his brother calls for him. You're the lighthouse, he once said. Joel's hand keeps making a mess of your hair, and he looks like he wants to say something, but ultimately, he huffs. "This is harder than I thought it'd be."

"Of course it is," you laugh. "I'm the only one that knows how to make a decent cup of coffee. Or at least, one that you like."

That's when he kisses you.

Because it's true. Not the cup of coffee — Tess can do that as well, even if she never does, but the reality that you're the only one that can and wants to.

The only one who's allowed it.

Living in a world that has no space for living is difficult, but Joel manages to fit the whole human experience in the span of a kiss and some touches.

He's kept you safe, and guarded, and gave you blinks and pieces of the man he once was in return for all that you've given him.

He loves quietly, and kisses hard, and protects with every cell in his body — Joel still loves, even if the word's been burned out of his tongue when he held the most precious life known to him in his arms.

He loves, and you feel it, and you'll miss it.

Joel pulls back with a promise in his eyes that he will be back.

If he isn't, you'll be a moving lighthouse. You'll find him.

☆ join my writing challenge ☆

[notjoelmiller]

wild thing

MDNI

joel miller x reader (later tommy miller x reader) summary: You like the brothers. They're good to you. Though certainly one more than the other. wordcount: 1.3k warnings: a little bit of violence, drinking, smut (p-in-v), voyeurism (dubious consent from both voyeur and voyeuee with this one, as a warning), joel has a praise kink a/n: wrote this super quick. hope you like it <3

When you meet Joel, you nearly kill his brother.

The brothers search an abandoned house. It’s surprisingly abundant: ammo, canned food, and medical supplies are all added to their stock. They search each room from head to toe, grabbing whatever they can. 

But no matter how much shit they cram into their bags, Joel can’t help but feel like something is wrong. Goosebumps trail up his arms. A tightness around his heart grows with every step deeper in the house. Joel tries telling Tommy, but he shrugs it off.

Tommy rolls his eyes, “Don’t go questionin’ a good thing.”

Then something shuffles. Joel hears it, but before he can even act, you lunge from around a corner, terrifyingly swift, slashing and stabbing a knife in any direction you can reach.

Joel watches the collision, frozen in place, in awe almost. At lightning speed you pin Tommy to the ground. It’s not until your hands close around his neck that Joel manages to snap out of it.

You scream as Joel yanks you off of Tommy, grunt as he pins you to the ground. A single hand sits on your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, yet. However, his other hand comes up to your hand that holds the knife, pinning it above your head.

Joel’s close to you now. Your breath fans against his skin, warm and not at all unpleasant. You shake beneath him, dropping the knife to the ground. Joel sees your every movement like this, feels your body beneath him– your fear. Ten years ago, he may have been disturbed by it. Now, not so much.

“You’re a wild thing, ain’t you,” Joel says with a smile on his face.

“You gonna kill her or kiss her?” Tommy asks. It’s a joke. Joel doesn’t find it very funny. Maybe it would have landed better if there wasn’t blood dripping down the attempted-comic’s cheek. You had slashed Tommy during the collision, apparently. Joel’s proud, but not as much as he is enticed.

Joel lets go of you, slides off of your body painfully slowly. You don’t move, just watch him in the same position he had you in, head thrown slightly back, hand high above your head, thighs apart. It’s debauched the way his eyes linger on you as he grabs your knife– a nice butterfly one. He covers the blade and tosses it on your chest.

“C’mon,” Joel says, offering a hand. “You’re comin’ with us.”

***

The brothers warm up to you quickly once they realize the slash you gave Tommy won’t scar. We need his pretty face, Joel says. Apparently his boyish grin and charismatic tongue have gotten the pair out of some tough spots. You can’t deny, Tommy’s got a face that can calm you on your worst days.

You learn about them. Joel’s older, though you guessed that by the volume of gray sprinkled in his beard. He’s quiet– quieter than Tommy at least, though that’s not hard. He’s guarded, doesn’t like sharing anything too personal with you. One night, when Joel’s off on guard, Tommy lets it slip that he had a daughter. You never dare to bring it up to him.

Tommy’s different, sweeter in a way. He’s more likely to crack a joke, or share a smile when you’re down. He's good with a gun. Joel tells you that he got into trouble a lot back before the infection. You don’t believe it at first. Then you see him smile after getting his nose broken, his lopsided smile accentuated by his crooked nose, blood spilling down to his chin. You believe Joel after that.

You like the brothers. They like you back. You and Tommy grow close, finding a rare camaraderie in your fucked up world. But only because he doesnt know you’re fucking his brother.

It’s an accident the first time it happens. As much of an accident as sex can be. You three find a settlement to spend the night in. The people are nice, they feed you and hand you plenty of drinks.

Be merry, they said.

And merry you were.

His gaze is on you all night. You feel it, but pay no mind. You dance, you drink, you talk, you flirt with strangers, and you drink some more. He’s more reserved, planting himself at the bar while letting you enjoy the festivities.

You come over once he finally catches your gaze. You make small talk.

“How’s the night treating you, Miller?”

His hand snakes around your waist, “Good. Nice watchin’ you have fun for once.”

You smirk, leaning into him, “Yeah?”

He takes you in the back of the bar, chatter and music drowning out the noise of your coupling. He’s behind you, your face pressed into the wall, going at a brutal pace. At some point, his hand comes to clamp against your mouth, quieting you. He doesn’t quiet though, leaning down to your ears, whispering unholy things.

Knew this pussy would be good. Takin’ me so well, baby.

Think they can hear us in there?

Gonna cover you with my cum, let them all know who you belong to.

It doesn’t end with that night. You alternate taking watch, waiting for Tommy to fall asleep before pouncing.

It’s always different, where, how fast, how intimate. The only constant is the way he marks you with his cum. You smirk every time at the carnal nature of it, remembering his words to you that first day you met.

You’re a wild thing, ain’t you.

You’ve come to love the double entendre.

You suspect Tommy knows. There’s only so much that Joel’s hand over your mouth can do, not with how the filthy cacophony of skin meeting skin and Joel’s own moans sounds. He doesn’t say anything, but things feel different. His words almost seem charged. Innocent statements sound like innuendo coming from him. You think– pray –it’s all in your head.

One night, you ride Joel. He doesn’t let you take control often, but something that night makes him want to relinquish control. You’re grateful. Let me take care of you, honey, you coo at him. He shivers.

You go slowly, taking time to savor every moment. You grind at the base of his cock, reveling in the friction against your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to reach his peak, the words of affection you whisper to him of no help. You’re almost at your peak by the time he’s cumming. As he fills you, you quicken the pace. Joel reaches a hand to your clit, rubbing in frantic circles, but it’s enough, and you reach your peak in no time.

You shake as you come, muttering incoherent words of praise and thanks to Joel. You shut your eyes for a moment, but just like every time you’ve fucked, reality soon comes crashing down. There is no aftercare, nor any time to cuddle. You need to get back to watch and get fixed up before anything happens or– god forbid –Tommy wakes up.

Speaking of Tommy– your eyes search for him in the darkness, the only illumination offered to you being the dying firelight. You find a shape, vaguely man-shaped. You squint, the details of him coming into clearer view– the rise and fall of his chest, his rifle laying next to him, and–

Tommy’s looking right at you, eyes dark, but alert. You’re still seated on Joel’s cock when you make eye contact with him. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, nor make any indication beyond that terrifying look in his eyes that he knows your secret. 

Then, he smiles, and his eyes close.

Joel has no idea, still coming down from his high. Your eyes flick from man to man. You shudder.

[livingemkayde]

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?”  What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.  “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”  “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head. 

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it. 

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy. 

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.” 

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink. 

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully. 

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all. 

“No, I don’t think —” 

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes. 

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far. 

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.” 

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.” 

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?” 

“Why.” 

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.” 

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.” 

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice. 

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink. 

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside. 

“Hello?” 

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes. 

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window. 

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight? 

“Jesus. No — no.” 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. 

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly. 

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.” 

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought. 

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl. 

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.” 

Love you, bye. 

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately. 

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good. 

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys. 

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers. 

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment. 

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things. 

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day. 

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief. 

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before. 

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten. 

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar. 

“I did good, didn’t I?” 

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. 

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” 

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now. 

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do. 

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy. 

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely. 

Jealous? Yeah. That one. 

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can. 

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving. 

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice. 

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long. 

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back. 

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.” 

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away. 

Good for him.  

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone. 

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore? 

“You alright?” 

You snap your head to Tommy again. 

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears. 

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.” 

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one. 

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind —  saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault. 

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet. 

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears? 

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop. 

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one. 

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?” 

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.” 

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs. 

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back. 

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers. 

You can see her better in this light. 

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older. 

More like Tommy — more like Joel. 

More age appropriate. 

Less like you. 

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit. 

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud. 

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs. 

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods. 

“What did you study?” 

“English.” 

“Ah. English. Remember those days.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink. 

Great. Journalist. 

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you. 

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation. 

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd. 

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze. 

How could you be so stupid? 

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel. 

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start. 

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway. 

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel. 

~

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him. 

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose. 

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night. 

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed. 

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

 Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building. 

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through. 

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes. 

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser. 

Maybe you want it to hurt. 

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is. 

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude. 

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough. 

“You should come. Right, Joel?” 

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother. 

“To my party?” 

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower. 

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?” 

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere. 

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face. 

Jesus. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met. 

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Need some air,” you say. 

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends. 

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away. 

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words. 

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—” 

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you. 

“I do — wanna help.” 

You smile shyly. 

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.” 

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar. 

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.” 

“Maybe,” you echo. 

Suddenly, the air feels less playful. 

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you. 

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.” 

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.” 

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face. 

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you— 

Stop this. 

~

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever. 

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —” 

I like you. I want you. I need you. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities. 

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you. 

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind. 

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead— 

“Where are you goin’?” 

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you. 

Because that’s all you want. You just want him. 

“Home.” 

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it. 

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his. 

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave. 

Please. 

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all. 

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

~

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer. 

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too. 

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes. 

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man. 

Not like Tommy. 

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately. 

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken. 

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment. 

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that. 

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to. 

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside. 

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed. 

~

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck. 

You grumble with him. 

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.” 

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving. 

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.” 

You smile lazily at him. 

“Like you aren’t?” 

He laughs back. 

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash. 

Tommy speaks first. 

“What’d you and Joel talk about?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much. 

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.” 

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help  — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar. 

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.” 

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.” 

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well thanks anyways.” 

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness. 

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?” 

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question. 

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle. 

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.” 

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest. 

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes. 

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away. 

Tommy continues when you don’t respond. 

“Took her home though.” 

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart. 

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all. 

“Really?” 

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life. 

Tommy pulls up to your driveway. 

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park. 

“Is that —  like —  an issue?”

 Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?” 

“No. Think she’s good for him.” 

There it is again. 

Good for him. 

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion. 

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements. 

You don’t pull away. 

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face. 

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away. 

“Jesus.” 

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time. 

You’re scared of what he might say. 

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips. 

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?” 

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now. 

“No, like — like a date. I guess.” 

_

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

[lokischocolatefountain]

Picture || Mister Miller

Part 2 of Mister Miller. Read Part 1 here.

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (masturbation, nudes, looking at someone’s nudes without consent, girthy age gap, boyfriend’s dad!Joel, pervy Joel, potential future infidelity, no outbreak)

Word Count: 960 words

Summary: Joel knows he shouldn’t, especially with the guilt of his shameful secret sitting heavy in his chest. But there are so many pictures of you and he is just a man.

A/N: Day 1 was so much fun! I hope everyone is having a good December. Thank you to everyone who reblogged, commented, and liked. It means a lot 🥹. Now here’s our favorite old man for day 2. Tomorrow will be my OG, the one who got me into this Pedro Pascal mess- Javier Peña... Keep a look out for more in the Masterlist. Aaaand leave your girl a comment please🥺🥺

“You should get a new one,” Matt said, typing something up real fast on his laptop.

Joel snorted and said, “Sure, I’ll sell that little computer of yours and buy myself a nice iPhone with the four cameras and shit.”

“It’s three cameras and a LiDAR scanner, dad,” he snarked, finally unlocking his spare phone and sliding it across the table to Joel.

“What’s that? Like the scanner on printers?” He asked, confused once more by technology. The kind of things that came out these days were too much for him to be able to wrap his mind around. Chat GPT, hyaluronic acid, iPads, this fucking scanner thing.

“It’s this sensor that projects invisible lasers and gets data on how far every single thing is. And that way, it can map an entire room,” he said, using gestures to mimic laser beams shooting into a room.

“Sounds like it’ll be more useful in construction. The fuck you need that for?”

He shrugged and went back to his work, the clacking of keys filling up the room once more. Whatever. He needed a spare phone to replace his shit blackberry Sarah got him eons ago. The thing had been through a lot with him and honestly, he couldn’t be too mad at it for dying on him. In all the years he had it, he had taken a few pictures here and there of his kids. But everything else in his gallery was filled with pictures of worksites. Broken pumps, proof to send clients that they were at the site that day, pictures of sample tiles to show clients… Nothing personal. It was the only thing he did on that phone other than making calls.

As he retired for the day, he thought to learn about his new old phone a little. See if the camera was any better. He propped a pillow up against the headboard and leaned back. When he finally found the camera app, he took a couple pictures of his room. Looking back at them, he was a little glad that his old phone died. The camera on this thing was better. It was newer than his old one, so maybe that was it. He didn’t have complaints about his old one, but damn this was it. It was so fucking good.

He swiped his thumb against the screen, looking at pictures, not stopping when he went back to pictures of his son. Pictures of him partying that he had never shown his old man before. He smiled, going through pictures of a side of his son’s life he never knew. Shit parents never got to see.

His heart leapt out at the next swipe, the screen filled with a picture of a nude woman.

You, he realized as he looked at the face. You had a smile on, the same sweet one you always sent him when you exchanged pleasantries and thanked him for letting you crash at his place for the summer. But the picture of you was anything but sweet.

He swiped to the previous picture, an identical one. Except you were biting your bottom lip and looking at him—at the camera with a sultry gaze. His mouth watered as he focused on your tits. Fuuuck they were good ones, he had to admit. He wasn’t a boob man. Or an ass man, frankly. He was just bad at the whole thing. But yours ignited something in him.

He found an entire album full of nude pictures of you. Pictures you posed for. There was a variety. You nude, you in bikinis, in figure hugging dresses that drove him crazier than the first category. In high heels, sideways pictures of your reflection where you stuck your ass out. One with you sucking on a fucking popsicle. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d told himself it was wrong. He’d found his pleasure in others. But fuck he couldn’t get his mind off of you. And now here you were, naked on his phone without your knowledge.

As he wrapped his hand around his hardening cock, he knew that he’d lost the fight. He should not be doing this. But just this once. It was his phone now after all. A justification. Weak, but it was all he had in the moment.

He pumped his cock, eyes trained on the pictures of you. He swiped back and forth between the pictures, desperate to have you in all your forms. In the cocktail dresses and the ratty old t-shirts. Wearing the bright red lipstick and the soft pink one. He imagine you, whimpering quietly the way you did that night when he found you fucking yourself in his living room.

He groaned, his cock twitching at the recollection of his creepy voyeurism. He wondered what you sounded like when you had a man. When you didn’t have to rely on your fingers, but had a good girth cock thrusting in and out. When you had a finger rubbing your clit softly. He imagined his large hand full with your breast, his lips sucking on the other one.

On your knees, right here in his bedroom, his cock in your mouth instead of in his fist. As your licked his balls with his cock deep in your throat in his mind’s eye, he exploded, coating his hand in sticky white ropes of his cum. He groaned and pulled out a few tissues, wiping off the mess you’d created.

His perverted mind imagined you still there, eagerly licking up his release. His mind was no longer pleased with such sinful images of you. The clarity that came after his orgasm tasted bitter on his tongue.

He would have to delete the photos. Tomorrow. He’d do it tomorrow.

.

.

.

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main masterlist

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 21: Holiday

You, Joel and Ellie celebrate Christmas in Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-20 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

December 24, 2026

“They really didn’t make Christmas music with dancing in mind, did they?” 

Your head was on Joel’s shoulder, a pleasantly drunk haze falling over your mind and sinking into your limbs. You smiled at Tommy’s question, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. 

“No they did not,” you said, even though you knew the question was rhetorical. 

Half of Jackson was crowded into the Tipsy Bison. Christmas music was on the stereo, someone in the kitchen had made egg nog, the whole bar was draped in multi-colored Christmas lights casting everything in a a cheerful glow. 

You’d been in Jackson for more than a year now, something that was hard to believe. Last year at this time you’d spent all your spare time at home alone - except when Ellie all but broke down your door, anyway. You’d missed all this without even knowing that you’d missed it. 

Christmas hadn’t mattered much to you in years. The last real one you had before the world ended was really only special because you got to see your brothers again for the first time in months. The holiday itself hadn’t been what mattered. 

But you’d felt an odd sense of anticipation this time, something you hadn’t felt since you were a kid. Being around other people who remembered the time before - who knew what it had been like when there were things like Christmas tree lots and mall Santas - made it feel exciting in way the holiday hadn’t in years past, even when you were a teenager. 

It helped that Joel was recovered from the incident in August. He had returned to business as usual, going out on patrol with Tommy who had fully healed, too. But their first time out, you’d insisted on going, too. 

“You really don’t need to worry about it, Sweetheart,” Joel said. “It’s just a day long patrol, not goin’ anywhere rough. Gonna be fine.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me going,” you shrugged. “Olivia can cover for me at the stables and I can cover you and Tommy’s asses.” 

Joel laughed a little and sighed. 

“Alright,” he kissed your temple. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can come out with us. This time.” 

It had been an easy day, unseasonably warm for October. The three of you went to a small town that was about a five hour ride from Jackson, a town that happened to have a record store.

“Oh shit!” You said, flipping through CDs on the dank and rotting shelves. “They have the White Stripes!” 

Joel frowned, looking over your shoulder. 

“Who’s that?” 

“I’ll play you something when we get back,” you said, turning the CD over to look at the track list. “They’re good and they have a girl drummer which automatically makes them even better. I was just thinking of them the other day, I think Ellie would like them…” 

Joel smiled. 

“Yeah,” he said. “She probably would.” 

You stashed the CD and a few others in your pack, saving them to give Ellie at Christmas. They were wrapped and under a tree in Joel’s living room now and you were more excited about watching her open them and listening to them with her for the first time than you were to open what had your name on it under the tree. 

“Think I can con you into a dance anyhow?” Joel asked, brushing your hairline with his nose. 

“You know,” you smiled. “Think I’m just drunk enough for it to work.” 

He took your hand and led you to the dance floor just as It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas came on the stereo. You smiled and draped your arms around Joel’s neck, your whole body pressed against the front of him, so different from the first time you’d danced with him. 

“You sure are pretty,” he smiled, swaying gently, his hands at your back. 

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, smiling too. 

“Sure you don’t need glasses?” He teased and you rolled your eyes before tucking your head against his chest and shoulder, your nose brushing his neck. 

“I’ve known you for a year now,” you said quietly after a minute of just moving gently with him. 

“That all?” Joel said. “Seems like I’ve always known you.” 

You smiled against him. 

“I think I would have gone looking for you sooner, if I knew you existed,” you said. “Just didn’t know any better.” 

Joel’s lips brushed your cheek. 

“Would have definitely gotten my ass out of Boston a few decades earlier,” he said. “Lot I would’ve done different, had I known better.” 

He held you a little tighter. 

“Is it bad that I think I’m lookin’ forward to the day after Christmas more than Christmas?” He asked. 

“What?” You laughed a little and pulled back from him enough to look at his face. “Why?” 

“Two days just you n’me,” he smiled. “I know it’s patrol but… feels almost like a camping trip or vacation. Getting out of town, ridin’ through snow covered forest, ski lodge waiting at the end? Can’t think of much better than that.” 

“Well when you put it that way,” you teased, tucking your head against him again. “But I get what you mean. Though I’m pretty excited for Christmas with Ellie. Haven’t had a real Christmas with trees and lights and shit with a kid in a long time. Almost feels like I should try to convince her Santa is real or something, just really make the whole experience happen for her.” 

“I’m just glad she’s speakin’ to me this Christmas,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze, his voice thick. “Got you to thank for that.” 

“She’d have come around eventually,” you said. “Kids… They’re smart. They see things, they know. She knows you love her. She’d understand it one day, even without my help.” 

“Startin’ to feel like all the good things I got I got because of you,” he said softly. 

You lifted your head to look him in the eye, his gaze gentle and deep, his eyes crinkling at the edges with his soft smile. 

“Well you’ve saved my life enough times,” you said. “Seems like it’s only fair. I couldn’t have anything without you. Don’t think I’d want it without you.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes on your own and, for a moment, you were certain there was no one left inside the bar but him and you. 

He took you home after, walking slow through the falling snow with the first coat Joel had ever given you wrapped around you. You closed the curtains on the front window before plugging in the lights on the tree, just looking at it twinkling in the dark as you curled against Joel’s side on the couch. But before too long, you kissed him all soft and needy, his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

Joel undressed you gently and stretched you out beneath him on the couch. He covered your body with his, warm and hard as you rocked your hips against his length. He kissed you as he entered you, sinking into your tight heat until his body was flush with yours and he was buried within you. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment and your eyes met his, the lights reflected there as your heavy breaths matched his own. You reached up and traced the outline of him, your fingers brushing into his hair. You could feel his heartbeat in your own body, the life and warmth and vibrancy of him enveloping and consuming you. For a moment, you thought you might be able to know anything that crossed his mind, that he’d know anything that crossed your own. You were broken open and laid bare for him and all you wanted him to do was hold the pieces of you close and understand with a deep certainty how they fit together. You didn’t think you’d ever been this close to another person. You never wanted to be this close to someone who wasn’t Joel ever again. 

Everything in you was drawn tight and desperate, the heat of want threatening to swallow you whole and you were sure you were going to burst with it. 

“Joel,” you were almost squirming below him, needing the friction, needing more, eyes wide as you panted for breath. “Please…” 

“Please what?” He sounded almost as desperate as you. 

“Need you to move,” your eyes searched his. “Need to feel you, it’s too much, need…” 

“Shh,” he brushed your hair back, his palm lingering on the crown of your head. You were suddenly aware of everywhere he was, how he was everything. He was around you and inside you and over you, the thick weight of his cock filling every hollow space of you. He dropped his forehead to yours and closed his eyes for a moment, like he was concentrating before opening them again. His pupils were blown and he was looking at you as though you were the only thing left in the world. “I’ve got you, Baby. Gonna take such good care of you.” 

You just nodded against him and he pressed somehow deeper into you, his pubic bone pressing almost painfully against you before he pulled back, the slow drag of his hips making you moan as his the ridge of his head worked your channel. He pushed back into you firmly, tenderly, opening your body to him so he could reach parts of you that he seemed to have claimed for himself and you were happy to offer them. 

Like this with him you could understand why it was called making love. There was a sense that feeling him like this, experiencing him like this, had to exist somewhere outside of just yourself. It was too big to contain within yourself, what the two of you created when he brought you to your peak with an aching and heady rhythm. 

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, grinding his length deeper into you. You just nodded even though he hadn’t really asked. He knew. He didn’t need to ask. “Love feeling you like this. Want you to come for me, Baby. Want you to give in to it, want you to let go for me.” 

You nodded again, past the point of being able to form words. Your back arched, closing whatever minuscule gap there was between your bodies. Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with your own before putting it over your head and pressing it down into the couch, pulling a strangled moan from you as he did. 

“Joel,” you managed. “Want… want to feel you…” 

“Just let go,” he whispered. “Give you everything you want if you just come for me, Baby. Just come for me…” He pressed deep and you felt the building tension in you crest and overflow, your channel fluttering over him, working his thick shaft as you came with a broken cry. 

“Oh there we go,” he held himself deep inside, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it Baby, just keep coming, just keep…” 

He moaned and you felt him throb inside of you, felt the heat of his come as he filled you. His hand tightened on yours and you instinctively tilted your hips to make sure he was as deep within you as he could possibly be. 

You held each other like that for a while, Joel still buried inside you as his broad hand gently stroked your hair as you looked at him in the glow of the Christmas tree. 

He must have carried you to bed at some point, and you woke up tangled with him, your head on his chest and his hand splayed wide on your back. The light pouring through the window was bright, the morning sun reflecting on the fresh snow and making his bedroom light and crisp. You kissed his chest and he sighed contentedly. 

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled at him. 

Joel smiled back. 

“Ain’t you just the prettiest damn present.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Ellie say a time she was comin’ by?” Joel asked, hand sliding up your back to brush your cheek. “Or just that she was?” 

“Just sometime in the morning,” you said. “Why?”

“Thinkin’ I really want to fuck you into this mattress before makin’ you breakfast,” he said. “But don’t want to be interrupted…” 

As if on cue, you heard the bang of the front door against the wall downstairs. You laughed and pressed your face into Joel’s chest to muffle the sound. 

“Where are you guys?” Ellie yelled. “Being gross?”

“Down in a minute, Kiddo!” Joel yelled back as you pulled your face from his chest to look at him again. He held your face and pulled you in for kiss. 

“Later?” You asked quietly. 

Joel groaned. 

“Absolutely.” 

You got dressed quickly and found Ellie sitting on the floor by the tree, turning the paper-wrapped packages over and examining them. 

“Merry Christmas, Kiddo,” Joel smiled at her and she looked up from the gift in her hands. 

“Did people really used to believe a fat old man came down their chimney and left them shit?” 

You snorted and Joel laughed a little. 

“Generally just the kids,” he said. “Gimme a minute to make some coffee, then you can rip into everything.” 

You tucked yourself into a corner of the couch and smiled, watching Ellie rifle through the presents under the tree. It made your heart ache a bit to watch her. That she’d never had this as a girl hurt. That you hadn’t been able to do this in decades hurt, too. It felt like so much lost time, so many things that could have been better or different and they weren’t. So many things that you missed out on because you’d been holed up in the wilderness and hadn’t looked for a place like Jackson, hadn’t had the faith that a place like this could exist. 

You tried not to think about it, fought to focus on anything but what could have been if you’d just tried to find this place years ago.

Joel pressed a warm mug into your hands and sat next to you on the couch, putting his arm over your shoulders, tugging you against him and kissing the top of your head. You took a sip and smiled a little at the taste of whiskey. He’d spiked it.

“Alright Old Man,” Ellie said, picking up one of the packages she brought and holding it out for him. “This one is for you.” 

Ellie had made you each a charcoal drawing. Yours of Renaissance, Joel’s of you. Your eyes went a little wide at it. It’s not like you’d posed for her or anything, you hadn’t even noticed her doing it. It was strange to see yourself the way Ellie apparently did. You were pretty, the way she saw you, a softness in the drawing that you didn’t associate with yourself. 

“This is amazing, Baby Girl,” Joel said quietly. “Thank you.” 

“Figured I already drew you a horse,” she shrugged. “Thought you’d like something pretty to look at. And she’s got good taste, thought she’d want something better than your face on her wall.” 

Joel laughed before you could protest. 

“Got that right,” he said. 

Joel got Ellie a stash of art supplies that you knew he must have been tracking down for the better part of the year, watercolors and pencils and full sketchpads and you gave her the CDs and a few comic books you’d found that you thought she’d like. 

“Oh shit!” She yanked open the first comic. “Look at this guy, he’s got like… laser vision!” 

You laughed and pressed closer to Joel and he kissed the crown of your head before he leaned forward and picked up something from below the tree, handing it to you. 

You unwrapped it and opened the old shoe box. Inside was the carving of a horse, beautiful and intricate, delicate legs and a tail that looked like it was somehow in motion while being formed out of wood. 

“Joel,” you gasped, running your finger over the smooth surface. “It’s beautiful…” 

“Thought you needed somethin’ of your own in that house over there,” he said. “Or over here. When you want.” 

You looked over at him and smiled, tears stinging at your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around him. You stretched and got your gifts for Joel next before you ended up fully crying on Christmas morning. 

He opened the first one slowly and smiled at it, a holster you made from scrap leather for a knife he’d picked up the last time you were on patrol together. 

“You act like you can’t do shit like this and then you make somethin’ great,” he smiled at you, running his thumb over where you’d burned his initials into the sheath just like you had with the guitar strap. 

“Tell me that after it holds up for a few patrols,” you said, face getting hot. You took a sip of coffee. 

He opened the next one as you gnawed on your lower lip. It was just a little box and he tugged the top off of it, revealing a slender chain with a piece of metal as a charm. He frowned, running his thumb over it. 

“I made it from part of the bullet they pulled out of your leg,” you said, looking over his shoulder as he turned it in his palm. You’d cut “E + B” into one side of it. “Thought you should have a reminder that you’ve got people waiting for you. Next time you’re out for a few days.” 

He took a shaky breath and kissed you tenderly, deeply, before putting it on, looking at it in his palm. 

“I love it, Baby,” he said softly. 

“Look at Bambi, being all sentimental,” Ellie teased from her spot on the floor, already using one of the new sketchpads from Joel. You glared at her, trying not to smile, and she laughed. 

“One more,” you said before pressing your nose into Joel’s shoulder. For some reason, this made you anxious. Like the gifts were leaving you exposed. You dug your nails into your thigh to keep your leg from bouncing too much. 

Joel unwrapped the cassette tape, looking at the label. 

“Daylight,” he read from the tag. You’d tried to write it out in your best handwriting, the kind you hadn’t used in years but that your mother had drilled into you. “Don’t think I know this artist, who’s…” 

You cut him off before he could read the name aloud. 

First, middle, last. 

“You do,” you said. “That’s… that’s me.” 

His head whipped around to look at you, his eyes a little wide. 

“I wrote it,” you nodded at the tape. “The quality is questionable - it’s just from an old audio recorder from my house - and I’ll play it for you if you want. But… Anyway, I wrote it for you and… well, felt like I should put my real name on it. No one’s really known it in a while but I wanted you to.” 

“Baby…” he breathed, looking back at the tape. “This…” 

“You can keep calling me Bambi,” you smiled a little. “Everyone else does. Which is still your fault, by the way.” 

He laughed. 

“This is amazing,” he said. “You’re amazing, I…” 

“I’m going to need you guys to not be gross when I’m in the room,” Ellie groaned dramatically. 

“Don’t worry, Kiddo,” Joel said. “Think we can keep it under control. Got a few more here…” 

He picked up a small package and handed it to you. 

You opened it, a CD inside, one you didn’t know. You looked at the back, frowning, only to find that it was an album of accompaniment tracks for violin. 

“Oh, cool!” You said, looking over the track list. “I could definitely adapt these parts for guitar and…” 

“Well, didn’t say you’d need to do that,” Joel said, clapping his hands on his knees before getting up. “Just a sec…” 

Joel left and you frowned to Ellie, who just shrugged, her pencil frozen over the paper. He returned just a minute later, a violin in one hand and something you didn’t recognize in the other. 

“Wasn’t sure how to wrap either of these so…” 

You practically jumped off the couch, eyes wide, and took the instrument from him, holding it reverently. 

“Where did you find this?” You asked, looking over the body. It looked to be in amazing condition. 

Joel smiled. 

“Been on the look out for one since you told me what instruments you played,” he said. “Got a bow and extra strings too, should be set for a bit.” 

You threw the arm that wasn’t holding the violin around his neck and he laughed before giving you a squeeze. When you pulled away from him, he turned to Ellie. 

“And this is for you,” he said, unfolding the bundle in his hand. Ellie got up, frowning at it for a second but watching as he did. “Figured since you’re gettin’ real good at your art, you should have all the tools…” 

He finished putting it all together and set it down, an easel that was the perfect size for the largest sketchpad that Joel had gotten her. 

“Oh shit!” Her face lit up. “This is like… real artist stuff!” 

“Well yeah,” Joel shrugged, crossing his arms. “You’re a real artist, Kiddo. Need real artist stuff.” 

Ellie practically hurled herself at him and he laughed, catching her out of the air. You smiled, watching them. They had become so much more like what you imagined them to have been before Ellie learned the truth about the hospital. It had taken a few months to get them there and you learned that giving them projects to work on together seemed to be the best way to move them along. 

You started with shoeing the horses and quickly pinned down Tommy to come up with some more ideas for ways to get them progressing toward a common goal. They worked with him to build a new, larger pen for some of the livestock. You ended up concocting busy work that didn’t seem like busy work every other week or so until you noticed Ellie coming by the house of her own accord and Joel spending more than a few perfunctory minutes when he went to the outbuilding she called home. Every now and then, you still saw signs of Ellie being introspective. Sometimes she would go quiet, glancing at Joel with her brows drawn together and her eyes dark. But it was so much better than it was and you could clearly see the people they had become to each other as they survived crossing the United States.

The two of them were doing better than you’d ever really seen them by Christmas. You weren’t sure if it was the holiday or they had always been building to this point, but there was no sign of the tension that had been there as long as you’d known them both. It was hard to believe that the Ellie who was color swatching her new pencils and excitedly telling Joel about things like the saturation of the pigment was the same Ellie who had come over to your house, upset that you and Joel were together. 

She left to exchange gifts with friends in the afternoon and you passed the time playing guitar with Joel while watching the snow drift down outside before holding each other on the couch, stretched out long and pressed close, something that earned you both an “Ugh I thought you were supposed to be adults, show some self control” when Ellie came back a few hours later. 

After dinner with Tommy, Maria, William and the rest of Jackson, Ellie went home and Joel tried to put the cassette you’d made him in the boombox in his room but you begged him not to. 

“Why not?” He frowned. “I’m excited to hear it…” 

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, putting your arms around his waist. “I will let you fuck me if you wait until I am not within earshot to listen to that. I can’t stand hearing my own stuff, makes me want to crawl out of my skin.” 

Joel smiled and shook his head a little. 

“You were gonna let me fuck you, anyway.” 

“Moot point.” 

He kissed you gently. 

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wait until you go home tomorrow to get your stuff for patrol. Think I’ve got the self control to hold off ’til then…” 

You laughed and kissed him again, his hands growing eager against you. You rode him, your hands spread wide on his chest, memorizing the way the moonlight reflecting on the snow cast the shadows over his face, coming around him with a whimpering moan. As you fell asleep on his chest, his softening length still inside you as he held you close, you felt more at home than you had since you’d fled the home you’d made after the outbreak. 

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. You weren’t sure he was conscious enough to hear you but he held you a little tighter all the same. 

***

Joel had always loved the outdoors but there was something about being in the woods after it snowed that was damn near magic. 

It was like that now, out with you the day after Christmas. The snow hung heavy on the trees, boughs drooping toward the earth like they were covered in frosting, the crystalline layer catching the light and sending it shattering off the tree trunks.

The almost blinding light caught your eyes and hair and the snowflakes did, too, making you look like some otherworldly being. One that he should know better than to try to touch but was too selfish not to. 

He’d listened to the tape when you left to head to your place to gather your things for patrol that morning. He just held the cassette for a moment, eyes tracing over the graceful lettering that spelled the title and your name. 

You’d given him your name. You had told him why you didn’t like to share it, why you hadn’t shared it with anyone but the doctor here in decades. There was a power in it. So much of what you had and who you were had been weaponized against you since the outbreak. It made sense that you’d keep something close and for yourself and yourself alone. And he’d been content with that. He had more of you than he deserved, he wasn’t about to go and ask for more. 

But you’d given him your name. First, middle, last. Because you wanted him to have that part of you, too.

He said it out loud to himself, testing the words on his tongue, picturing you as he did, tying the person he knew to the name that belonged to you. 

Joel put the tape in the stereo and pressed play, turning the volume down a little. Just in case someone was walking by outside. He didn’t want to share this with them in any way. This was just for him. 

There was a few seconds of crackling almost silence before you spoke, the sound clearer than he’d really expected it to be. 

“Hey Joel,” your voice sounded close and almost nervous. He smiled at that, that you’d be nervous playing for him even after all this time. “I’ve kind of been wishing I was better with words since I’ve known you. I’m not exactly a poet so it’s kind of hard for me to say what you mean to me. But… well, I do know music. This doesn’t quite say it right, either, but it does a better job than I could on my own. I love you, Joel. So much.” 

He listened close, could hear the quiet sound of your breaths and the sound of you adjusting the guitar in your arms before you started playing. 

The music made Joel’s heart ache, so beautiful it almost hurt to listen to it. It was slow and gentle and intricate and longing, made him think of what it was to look at you and feel you and have you consume so much of who he was because he wanted you to, didn’t want himself without you.

When the song ended, the final chord hanging on the air, there was a pinch of tears at the back of his throat. He sniffed and tried to blink them back as there was a rustling on the recording and he could picture you adjusting your guitar. 

“I hope you liked it,” you laughed a little. “And I hope it makes sense. Hope you know how much I love you. Because I do. Always will.” 

The tape ended and Joel rewound it, collecting himself before listening to it again. 

You were already at the stables when Joel got there, strapping your things to Renaissance’s side and humming to yourself. Joel didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure he’d really be able to speak past the lump in his throat. Instead, he went to you and you frowned when you saw him. 

“Everything OK?” You asked. He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head and clutching you close. You paused a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze. “Joel?” 

“Love you,” he managed, not willing to let you go quite yet. 

“Love you too,” you pulled back from him to look at him and laughed a little. “You alright?” 

He kissed your forehead. 

“Got you,” he said. “I’m great.” 

The patrol had been quiet, just like Joel thought it would be. He hadn’t gone out with just you since snow started falling and he was ready for the kinds of patrols that came with winter. Last patrol with you had been in late October and the two of you had been caught up in a hoard of infected that was making its way south, migrating to survive the winter. You’d gotten pinned down at one point, Joel damn near panicking at the sight of it. He was able to get to you and knock the infected away, giving you enough space to raise your gun and fire. You’d made it out unscathed but with a lesson learned. 

“Need shit I can use at close range,” you’d panted, dusting yourself off. “Baseball bat. Axe, maybe. Knife isn’t enough.” 

Joel had found you an axe the second the two of you were back to Jackson and it was strapped to the side of your horse where you could easily free it to swing at anything headed your way. 

But he didn’t think you’d need it today. This point in the season, the raiders were holed up to ride out the weather, not wanting to risk exposure by roaming much. Infected - with a few exceptions - had all fled the cold. These patrols were mostly to make sure anyone watching knew that Jackson was going to protect and maintain its territory, even when there wasn’t much to protect against. 

The forest was quiet, you riding alongside Joel when the trail was wide enough to allow for it. You just looked around at the trees, enjoying nature for what it was, Joel taking advantage of the quiet to watch you do it. He’d be happy to watch you do just about anything. 

“Almost like the end of the world never happened when you’re out here,” you said quietly, looking up at the snow-coated branches. “Like it’s a whole other world.” 

The two of you saw no signs of anyone else when you made it to the lodge for the night, twilight on the horizon because days were short and nights were long this time of year. You settled the horses while Joel got a fire going in the fireplace inside. He set out your sleeping bags in front of the stone hearth, the setting sun casting the snow in shades of pink and orange from the wall of windows beyond. He pulled a small pot out of his bag and put some leftovers from the Christmas dinner the night before he’d managed to snag before they all got snapped up, turkey and stuffing and gravy warming as you came in from taking care of the horses. 

“That smells incredible,” you said, putting your arms around Joel’s neck and pressing your body close. You were in his coat and his shirt, wrapping yourself up in him and he loved it, relished that he was what made you feel safe. 

“Can’t take much credit,” he said, kissing you gently. “Just swiped it.” 

“More than I managed,” you tangled your fingers in his hair, your soft gaze holding his. He sometimes thought the entire universe was contained in your eyes, like if he looked into them for long enough he’d find the answers to everything he’d ever questioned, the fulfillment of everything he’d ever longed for. “This was nice. Should talk them into letting me out of the stables more.” 

“Won’t catch me arguin’,” he smiled, nuzzling against your cheek. “Not sure I can promise the more gourmet dinner options the rest of the year, though.” 

You laughed and kissed him, soft and sweet, tongue dipping into his mouth. 

“Think we’d be just fine with jerky,” you said, voice breathy. 

He smiled back. 

“Think so, too.” 

You ate dinner close together, you tucked against his side. After, the two of you took turns playing guitar and singing, sticking close to the fire as it grew dark outside. Eventually, Joel set the guitar aside and took your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before smiling against your lips.

“What?” You teased. 

“First kissed you up here,” he said. “Worried I wasn’t ever gonna get to again. Now I can kiss you whenever I want.” 

“And it’s somehow not enough for me,” you kissed him again and he pulled you onto his lap before he undressed you slowly. You unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it down his arms until his skin was warm against your bare chest. You pressed yourself close and tight to him, rocking your clothed core over his hardening length. 

“Want you,” you were damn near panting. 

“Past wantin’ you,” he pulled you somehow closer. “Been far past it all day. Since I listened to your tape.” 

You pulled back from him a little and he took advantage of the distance to look at your bared skin. 

“You heard it?” You asked quietly. He nodded. “Did… did you like it?” 

“Oh, Baby,” he cupped your cheek. “I loved it.” 

You smiled and kissed him again and he held you close before maneuvering you onto your back on top of the sleeping bags, the heat from the fire warm on his skin. He tugged your jeans and panties off, casting them aside before removing his own. He ran his hands over your thighs, the softness of your skin in sharp contrast to the roughness of his own. His fingers reached your slit, all damp heat as he traced over you to your clit. You moaned, rocking your hips against him. He watched the muscle of your thighs tighten and shift and he took your ankle in his large hand, moving your foot to his shoulder so he could trail his lips over the supple flesh of the inside of your leg. He took his hand from your leg to grip his hardening cock as he toyed with your pussy as your back arched below him. He brushed his head against your swollen sex and all he could think about was opening you up to him, burying himself inside you until he couldn’t separate himself from you anymore. 

His eyes traced over you, your pupils blown, your chest heaving as you panted for breath. 

He lined himself up with your tight, grasping hole and lowered himself over you, his chest on yours, his lips inches from your own. He sank into you slowly, watched as his making space for himself inside you came over you, your eyes rolling back every so slightly before closing, the delicate moans from your parted lips. He breathed your name — your real name - as he reached the very end of you and you gasped, eyes opening to search his. 

“Joel,” you whispered. He kissed you softly, sheathed within you. “Call me that again. Want… want to hear you say my name.” 

He obeyed, pressing impossibly deeper before pulling out, slow but firm, before opening you up to him again, your name on his tongue as he did. Joel worked your body slow and steady, his orgasm building slowly alongside yours, your name falling from his lips again and again like a prayer in the night until your fluttering core made him spill into you. 

Neither of you bothered putting clothes on before climbing into one sleeping bag, your bodies close and warm. He watched you sleep in his arms by the dying firelight and he wasn’t ready to let you go when you both woke up in the morning. 

The warm glow of you left him optimistic as the two of you got underway again. It didn’t seem like anything could happen when he was with you like this. Like the two of you existed in a separate reality where people didn’t get hurt, where the evils of people couldn’t exist. 

“Joel?” You said, a few hours into the journey on the return trail. He stopped his horse alongside yours and you nodded into the woods, a good 10 feet off the trail. It looked like a large animal had been making its way through the snow before turning around. 

“Could be an elk or somethin’,” he said. “Might not be a horse…” 

You didn’t respond. You just dismounted, grabbing your axe and patting Renaissance’s neck as you picked your way through the snow and the brush to the point off the trail. Joel sighed but followed you, catching up to you just as you froze, staring down at the snow. There were distinct signs that there was a person with the animal and Joel sighed before he realized exactly what you were staring at. Just the start of a footprint in the snow, it didn’t have the chance to sink low to the ground like they’d been stopped. Just shallow enough to easily make out the size of the foot. It was small, too small to belong to a grown man. It was either a child - maybe a teenager - or a small woman. 

“Bambi…” he said cautiously, but you ignored him, turning on your heel, hooking your axe into its place on your saddle and mounting Renaissance. 

“Those tracks are relatively fresh,” you said. “It was snowing until after midnight and they’re not covered.” 

“We should go back and…” 

“No,” you said sharply. “Then it might be too late. We have to try. Joel, please…” 

He met your gaze, your eyes wide and desperate. 

“Please,” you whispered. 

He sighed but climbed back on his horse. 

“Somethin’ goes bad,” he said. “You get back to Jackson, get help. Understand?” 

You nodded and Joel led the way, trying to move as quickly as he could through the woods and the snow. 

After going almost two hours out of the way, the two of you stumbled upon what had clearly been a campsite not all that long ago. There were signs of at least a dozen or so men, the campfires no longer warm but not snow-covered either. 

You got off Renaissance again and started going around the area but Joel wasn’t sure what you were looking for. He dismounted, anyway, following close behind you as you picked through the signs of life that were here. Eventually, you whistled, something almost like a bird call but slightly off before going quiet. 

“Bambi…” 

“Shh.” 

He obeyed and you gave another whistle the same way, holding your hand out to signal him to stay quiet. There was no response. 

You visibly deflated before turning and pressing your face to Joel’s chest. He put his arms around you and held you gentle and close, feeling your warmth against him. 

“You’re OK Love,” he said softly. 

“Not me I’m worried about,” you sniffed, voice thick. 

“I know,” he held you closer. “I know… I know you want to help people who are hurtin’ like you. But you can’t save everyone, Baby, you just can’t.” 

You were silent and he just held you close. 

“We’ll head back,” he said quietly. “Report it. Send a team out with enough guns and men to handle a group of this size, see what we can’t find.” 

You nodded against him, clutching him close. 

“We wouldn’t have been able to help ‘em,” he whispered. “There were too many of them, would have gotten us both killed. Better this way. They’ll have a chance now.” 

You pulled away from him and dried your eyes. 

“Should get back,” you said, tone serious. “Sooner we’re back to Jackson, sooner we can send help.” 

“C’mon,” he put his arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the horses, turning to look back the way the two of you had come. 

He stopped in his tracks. 

Just like the sign you’d spotted months before, freshly carved into the trunks of the trees, were two large Xes, like they were waiting for him. 

What scared him more was the thought that they might be waiting for you.

Next Chapter

A/N: Yay, soft Jackson Christmas!

...other stuff is happening too.

Really really really soon.

BUT I LOVE YOU!!!

Thank you so much for reading and for being here. I'm seriously so excited to share what's coming next, I hope you're excited to see what happens, too. All your kindness and support means the world, just thank you thank you thank you. Love you all!

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[theplumsoldier]

summary: bits of love, domestic shit, sex and angst💗

warnings: vulgar language, smut, breeding kink, lil angst, fluff

a/n: i have been super busy with exams DD;

It had taken a lot getting used to, not constantly having to look over one's shoulder. Months had passed and you had found yourself quite enjoying the life you had made here.

It was safe to say you had made the adjustment quicker than Joel had. He was... Well, he was trying. At least, that's what you had convinced yourself.

Ellie screamed in rage, slamming the door to her room shut, undoubtedly right in Joel's face.

You moved in the couch so that you could watch him as he came down the stairs, his footsteps heavy on the wood.

When he noticed he had your attention, the small sympathetic smile on your lips, he threw up his hands in surrender.

You waited for him to sit down and only when he had done so, he let out a deep sigh of exasperation.

"Baby," hummed you, schooching closer to him, starting twirling som of his hair. "Don't you think you're being a little too harsh on her?"

"I don't want her running around this late," was all he responded his eyes fastened on the ceiling as he leaned into your touch.

"This is normal, right? She's a teenager."

"Nothin' 'bout this is normal."

A sigh escaped you, but instead of retreating, you moved sit straddle his lap, a sad look glistening in your eyes.

"Joel, babe, do you feel safe?"

He gave you a dumbfounded look, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Here, I mean. In Jackson."

He shrugged, "sure." His large hands cupped your ass cheeks and he inhaled deeply, shifting slightly beneath you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at him, knowing even in stressed situations he was completely under your spell.

"Joel, baby, this is the only chance Ellie's ever had to be normal. And I know you've been through a lot, but you can let your guard down here, you know that? There's no need to keep looking over your shoulder."

All Joel did was sigh, his rough hands still on your ass.

"We could be one big family here--"

"Hon, we've talked about this..."

"I know, I know... it's just... I feel like a lot has changed now. Ellie's in school, she's got a lot of friends, with Tommy and Maria's little girl... I just--it feels right."

A defeated look grazed his features, teeth sucking on his bottom lip. You were right. It was something he had gone over many times in his head, never stumbling upon a "let's do it" himself, although never finding a definite "no" either. It made sense.

For the first time in decades he did not constantly look over his shoulder (although every now and then he got these panicky flashes of what would happen when he let his guard down) and Ellie seemed to have a good time in here Jackson. He was getting older by the day and knowing from day one you had always wanted kids, he felt in no position to deny you that. He had once let you know how he thought you could do much better, and although you had told him he needed to feel more comfortable about who he was, he was still certain guys would line up to father your babies.

Also, it was something he really did want. Joel had always been a family-oriented man and the thought of creating one with you made his heart flutter. To begin with he blamed it on his own poor health, but it was no longer something he could deny. He loved you too damn much.

"If we're doin' this we're startin' right now," he finally hummed, his large hands squeezing your ass.

Your brows bounced in surprise, not having expected him to make a decision straight away. You suddenly felt a wave of guilt, worried you had rushed his decision. Knowing where he came from the last thing you wanted was to pressure him.

As if reading your thoughts, Joel cupped your face. "I'm sure, baby. Let's do this."

Giving you no time to protest Joel captured your lips in a hot kiss as he cradled you in his arms. Wanting to make him feel good, you reached down to unbuckle his belt, but he made a movement to stand up, holding you even tighter before he slammed you back down on the couch.

"Lemme take care of you, doll."

You were surprised by how quickly his mien turned into lustful, but you could not help but indulge in this feeling of being desperately wanted.

His heavy scent enveloping you in a bubble of need, his harsh touch ensuring your safety. It was all too much for you to not lay back at his command and let him do whatever he pleased.

Joel lifted up you shirt, so that he could place soft kisses that becoming open-mouthed and more testing they further down he got. With your eyes closed, you arched your back into the old cushions, releasing a soft hum when you suddenly shut up with your eyes open.

"Ellie, Joel!"

Peeking up at you, his brows heaved questioningly as his eyes shifted between you and the stairs. He knew what you were getting at, but he was not worried. Confident Ellie would either go to sleep or at least take some time to cool down, he proceeded to pull at your shorts.

"You'll jus' 'ave to be quiet for me then, won't ya?"

The stubble on his cheeks tickled your thighs but when you squirmed in protest, his hands held you in your place.

Even if Ellie did come out from her room, the wooden home and creaky floors would give her away, leaving a minimum of 7 seconds to get decent before she could find you. Joel had already gone over it in his head, many times before this, too, always making sure to never be caught from an awkward angle.

"Can you do tha' for me, baby girl?"

And all it took was that soft inquiry to convince you he had it all under control. When he hooked a finger through your panties, pulling them down, you shuddered as the cool air grazed your pussy. It seemed you were never not wet around Joel.

Suddenly, when you had only nodded and leaned back to get comfortable, Joel placed a slap on your cheek before bringing his hand to your jaw.

"Words, baby."

Taken by surprise, your mouth was slightly agape, to which he could not resist but pull at your bottom lip with his thumb. The look in his eyes made you writhe under him, wanting him to take that animalistic hunger out on you right then and there.

"Yes, Joel," whined you, biting out for his thumb when he chuckled. He absolutely loved it when he could feel, see, smell how eager you were for him.

Joel wasted no time going down on you, his tongue skillfully locating your clit, his hands lifting your thighs over his shoulders when he got comfortable, wearing you like earmuffs.

Your favorite look. His favorite place.

. . .

You had accidentally torn your underwear on the washboard, trying to get the blood out of the material. You knew to be more careful with old pieces as they were prone to shred when handled without care, but you couldn't help but take the frustration out on them when you got your period. You were well aware it was indeed possibly to menstruate when pregnant, however a concoction of sadness and anger simply took over you when you noticed the blood in your panties, having gotten your hopes up a little too much when your period had been late a week ago.

Upon throwing them out, you returned to bed. As it was early morning, Joel was still asleep so you got under the covers and spooned him up, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

The same minute he moaned and pulled your arm over his body, forcing you to hug him even tighter. It was things like this that made you absolutely melt. His bodily love language was beyond anything you had ever experienced.

"C'mere," moaned Joel as he snuggled deeper into your embrace.

Very subtly he guided your hand down to his hard cock, making you chuckle despite having just been on the verge of breaking down because you feared you were unable to get pregnant.

. . .

The Tipsy Bison was a truly magical place. Regardless of people's alcohol consumption it seemed everyone forgot their worries, their fears and the hardship they had endured to get here, and were enjoying themselves same way they used to before the apocalypse.

Ellie was sat in one end of the bar, playing a game of Battleship with Maria and the baby, and Joel were throwing darts with Tommy and some of his friends, a big grin on his face and an even bigger beer in his hand.

You adored the way his eyes would shine when he smiled, really smiled. The glimpse was like a little shooting star in his hazelnut galaxy, striking and breathtaking even from across the room. When he came to look at you, even more so. You gave him a little wave and blew him a kiss.

Then Joel looked back and decided no one would miss him, not when he noticed that love-drunk look in your eyes.

It was incredible how salient the beer smelled on him, knowing he had not been drinking that much. Perhaps it was simply because you were staying away from it all, hopes of bearing his child still laying dormant in the back of your mind. Instead you got drunk off of his lips, his tongue and his skin.

He had held out his hand for you, saying "let's go home" with a sly smirk on his lips. You chuckled and nodded towards Ellie, reminding him that they shouldn't go without her and if they did drag her back home with them, they would have to wait for her to be asleep to do whatever it was Joel's lewd eyes suggested.

Grabbing on to your waist, Joel closed the gap between you, murmuring seductively, "oh hon, I could take you right 'ere over this table if you let me."

The mix of alcohol and desire gave his voice a double coating of accent, that Texan drawl spelling nothing but trouble.

"Ten minutes, no longer." You latched onto his broad arm and pulled him with you.

Hissing, his eyes watched your ass swaying while following closely, "shit, woman, no less I hope."

. . .

Joel wasted no time showering you in beer-stained kisses and declarations of love, working his way down till he moaned into your pussy, drinking himself completely gone in your juices.

Shifting between suckling on your clit and lapping at your hole like a thirsty dog, Joel brought you to a body quaking orgasm before he replaced his fingers with his cock.

Clawing at his ass, you pushed him as deep as possible, crying at the sensation of feeling so filled. It started out as a joke, slapping his ass the same way he would do to you, but you found that during sex, he emitted filthy groans whenever you would grope as his cheeks, especially when it was to feel him to the fullest.

"Gonna fill ya up so good, baby. Make you scream till I know you're full with my kids," moaned he between kisses, feeling your pussy squeeze him once before he set a steady pace, moving inside you to feel each crevice and hear each he elicited, only the pornographic sound of your cunt accompanying the heavy moans and groans in the room.

[hopepetal]

A little fanfic I wrote for the aftermath of MCC 33, because both Pearl and Impulse raided Scar. And also Boatem <3

--

Pearl sat on the balloon, legs hanging off the side as she looked out over the MCC server. Her wings fluttered lightly against her back– it was nice to be able to use them again after so long of having them hidden. 

She had gotten close! Really, really close! Even though she was rusty still, she had been able to get almost in the top twenty! And her team had gotten third overall. Pretty cool, in her opinion. She was still riding that high from meltdown, though. Maybe she was a good leader for that, after all.

From the distance, she heard a familiar voice. “Peaaaaaaarl! Pearl Pearl Pearl Pearl Pearl Pearl–!” Scar, equipped with elytra, slammed head first into the spot right beside her with a squawk. “Oh, ouch! Goodness, the lag on this server is awful!” he complained, pushing himself up and plopping down beside her. “So! How was MCC, how are you feeling?” he prompted, and Pearl let out a soft chuckle.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” she admitted, “I did pretty well. A little disappointing at the end, but…” She shrugged. “Y’know, what can ya do? We did our best, and that’s what matters.”

Scar nodded. “And that’s what matters, indeed!” he exclaimed. “You know, I was secretly rooting for you guys. Above my own team, even! I was really hoping you’d get that win.”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head. “Scar! That’s so sweet of you, mate. I appreciate it.” She let the silence between them sit for a moment. “How was Etho?”

“He was good, he was good! I’m hopin’ he’ll come back, y’know, maybe we’ll all be on the same team then.” Scar kicked his legs back and forth, leaning forward. “I actually did so much better than I thought I would! I got in a top ten! A top ten, Pearl!”

Pearl beamed, clapping her hands together. “That’s awesome, Scar!” she praised, “I knew you could do it. What was it in?”

“Meltdown! Which, if I recall correctly, you guys did amayzingly in too!”

Pearl grinned. “Oh, you bet. I’ll be riding that high for ages. I make a pretty good leader, it turns out!”

The two were interrupted by yet another familiar face flying up to their little spot– Impulse, seemingly also struggling with his elytra, judging by how rough the landing had been. “It’s just the generic version,” he complained to the two as soon as he’d steadied himself, “I’m too used to the personalized elytra we get on hermitcraft.” He sat himself down on Pearl’s other side. 

“Honestly, sounds like you should just grow wings,” Pearl teased, giving her own a small flutter. “You did amazing, mate. What team were you on, again?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. 

Impulse returned the smile she gave him. “Aqua Axolotls! I was with Sneeg, Illumina, and Joel.”

“I’m not even gonna try to say that team name,” Scar muttered, earning soft laughter from the other two.

“That sounds like a fun team, though,” Pearl commented. “How was it?”

Impulse nodded. “It was pretty fun! Joel yelled a lot, of course. He was very excited whenever he saw Etho, though.”

“I can imagine!” Scar piped up. “Kinda sad that Grian couldn’t make it this time. We all know how much that man loves Etho.”

Pearl shrugged. “Poor guy was just busy, I guess. You can imagine his horror when he realized Etho was in this MCC and he hadn’t signed up.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? To give him all the insider info?” Impulse asked, and Pearl laughed.

“Yeah, he wishes. I’m not telling him a thing,” she snickered, and Scar gasped dramatically.

“The cleaning lady has an evil heart!” he cried, “she abandons her brother in his time of need…!” 

“Ah, he’ll get over it!” 

The three sat in silence for a while after that, their shared company enough to fill the silence. Pearl sighed softly, leaning back and tilting her head toward the sky. “Well, it’s high time we probably head back to hermitcraft. You fellas wanna come with?”

Scar jumped up, holding out a hand to her. “Why of course!” he exclaimed, helping pull her up when she took his hand. “Let’s go back and surprise Mumbo with the good news of my top ten!”

“I’m sure he’ll be dying to hear about it,” Impulse chuckled. “And Grian, of course. We can have a little boatem meeting, just like the old days!”

“Even though boatem got crushed by the moon,” Pearl reminded them.

Scar tutted softly, shaking his head. “Ahh, Pearl, that’s where you’re wrong! Boatem is a state of mind, not just a pole! So long as we keep boatem in our hearts, it will stay alive.”

“You’re a goofball,” Pearl pointed out with a laugh. 

“He’s our goofball,” Impulse corrected. “Right. Whoever gets back onto hermitcraft and to Mumbo first wins. See ya!” And with that, he disconnected.

Pearl yelped. “Oh, that’s not fair, my ping–!” She watched Scar disconnect, and decided it would be best to quickly follow suit.

impulseSV left the game GoodTimeWithScar left the game PearlescentMoon left the game

[prolix-yuy]

The Reason for the Season

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: What does Christmas mean after the world falls apart? Ellie sure doesn't know, but Joel knows who might.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: T, some suggestive thoughts, one steamy kiss, teen angst and a whole lot of yearning! Our reader is given the following attributes: a history of Christmas celebrations, a father, and while not stated in the fic, she was old enough to be a teacher when the outbreak happened. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Hello to my sweet Sil @psychedelic-ink! I'm your not-so-secret Santa and I'm here to deliver your holiday fic! And doubly, your birthday present! I’m so glad we got to meet on this wild app, and may your holidays and your birthday be as amazing as you!

You asked for something very Christmas-y with some friends to lovers romance, and boy did this get out of hand! I hope you enjoy Joel finding a little Christmas spirit.

Cross-posted on AO3

There’s little sacred in the world anymore, but making the morning cup of coffee might be as close as Joel gets. The early rising, his bedtime vestments crumpled and stretched across tired muscles. The soothing routine: the mug, the pour over coffee dripper, and the Holy Beans. Every movement is seamless, practiced and almost sightless for those mornings when he can’t peel his eyes open. All in service to the first sip, and the glorious awakening it will bring.

Though with the clattering of Doc Martens and teen angst coming down the stairs, it’s not necessarily needed.

“Mornin’,” Joel rumbles over the mug, eyebrows raised at Ellie’s earlier-than-usual scowl. She opens the fridge, every movement thrown to the extremes of her small frame. Bowl clattering, spoon chiming against stoneware, a worrisome glug of milk, and she returns to flop into her seat across from Joel. He takes another sip, maybe a little louder than usual.

“Sounds the same going in as coming out,” she grumbles, but the half smile she allows is a triumph. 

“Told you not to listen in on a man’s morning movements.” Ellie scrunches her nose up at that, jabbing her spoon into some granola. She’s only moving it around, not partaking, and Joel sets his cup down on the table. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks down his nose at her.

“Something on your mind?” 

Joel was never much for beating around the bush with Sarah’s moods, and he certainly hasn’t changed much with Ellie. She sighs and lets the spoon clatter back into the bowl.

“What the hell is up with Christmas?” 

The question works better than the coffee, brain scrambling into overdrive in much the same way as when he caught Ellie holding a beat-up Bearskin magazine.

“Well…” he starts pensively, but Ellie bowls right through his low hum.

“Like some of the kids celebrate it and others don’t, but neither of them know why. Everyone’s arguing about something called Santa. And they’re bringing trees inside!” She tosses her hands, giving him a weird am I right look that butts against his confused expression.

“FEDRA didn’t teach you kids about Christmas?” 

Ellie shrugs, folding her legs up into the kitchen chair.

“I’ve heard of it, but y’know…not exactly high on their list of priorities.” She starts worrying at a small rip in her jeans until Joel snaps a warning look. He just bartered for those, he won’t have her hurrying them back to scrap.

“I’ve kinda been…pretending I get it.” She trails off, face closing back up and Joel recognizes the outburst for what it is. Embarrassment.

“Well, Christmas is something that, uh…that lots of families celebrated before. It’s, uh…it’s a time at the end of the year to be…you know, to be together and thankful. That sort of thing.”

He can practically hear her eyes roll.

“But what the hell’s a Santa, and trees, and all the baking?” Her finger shoots up, angled directly at Joel. “I know there are presents!”

Joel scoffs, taking another sip and ruminating on how to tackle a tradition he’s barely paid attention to since the outbreak. It all felt so insignificant in the winters following, only a counter for how long he’s suffered so far. Then, when things calmed a fraction, the idea of opening his heart to anything remotely like thankfulness made him want to bloody every knuckle. 

So he tucked his chin and paid no attention to parents trying their best to give their children something bright in the darkest days of winter. Tess never mentioned it, the shine in her eyes at candles lit in windows hard to distinguish from tears. And now, twenty-odd years later, he can barely fathom where to start. 

“There’s a lot of traditions, variations. I don’t remember half of ‘em, but…” A sudden spark of an idea, a way to cheat out of this conversation and not get sulked to death over it, catches the corner of his mouth. “But I think that teacher you like might have some books about it.” 

Ellie’s face lights up, abandoning her bowl to go galloping back up the stairs to her room. “Eat something first, then we’ll go,” trails up behind her. Joel savors the last bit of coffee before rising to rinse the cup, his own smile tugging at his lips. Shouldering his heavy winter jacket, Ellie wolfs down four bites of her granola while still in motion. Wiping her chin with the cuff of her jacket, she shoots a shit-eating grin at Joel as she heads to the door.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that, old man,” she sing-songs as they move into the bracing Wyoming air. “Always looking for an excuse.”

“Whaddya mean?” he asks with as much nonchalance as he can muster, but Ellie’s raised brown and carefree shrug clearly don’t buy it.

“You’re a lousy liar, Joel.”

Not as bad as you think.

The schoolhouse is not much more than a converted home, the ground floor filled with bookshelves and improvised desks and controlled chaos. By the time Joel and Ellie came to Jackson it was well established, but Maria explained how it changed hands and struggled for years before the current teacher. 

“It’s hard to prioritize learning over survival, but it’s the only way we move on as a community,” she said as she led the pair through their Jackson orientation. Ellie had been sighing heavily and dragging her feet - “school is boring, Joel, why can’t I go on patrol?” - before Maria led them into the kitchen. 

“And here’s who we have to thank for dealing with our wild ones,” Maria said, and you looked up from your work. 

The first thing Joel noticed was your smile. It spread so easily across your face, unselfconscious and radiant. You extended a hand to Ellie first, who suppressed enough of her ennui to act pleasant. Joel was next, enveloping her cool fingers with his large palm. He blanked on your name that time, needing to ask Maria privately for it, but the warmth and lightness of your presence could be blamed for that. 

Joel didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that meeting sure as hell paved the way for the private and closely guarded crush he had on you now. 

Ellie took a liking to you almost as quickly, and Joel could see why you were successful when others might have failed. You assessed her mood with ease, redirecting her dread to a section of the schoolhouse that held instruments. She moved immediately to an old guitar, cross-legged on the floor with the too-large instrument in her lap. 

“Can you teach me how to play this?” she asked, and you admitted to only knowing a few chords. 

“I can,” Joel piped up, his own voice surprising him. “I know how to play.” 

Twin bright eyes danced on his face, and he struggled to keep the flush from creeping past his collar.

“If you have some time, I have other students who would love to learn.”

And that’s how on some afternoons Joel found himself showing a handful of teens on the cusp of adulthood how to strum chord progressions. He viewed it as a duty to the community…or at least that’s what he said when Maria and Tommy asked. It was also the perfect excuse to stop by early and chat with you, or scrutinize a leaky window or dripping faucet. Anything to keep him in the same room as you taught simple math or reading comprehension. 

“Any time you want to bring that handiness by my place you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he caught Joel waving you goodbye on the well-trodden path home. 

“You take better care of your place, you won’t need help,” he spat back with no fire. Tommy shrugged, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. 

“Just sayin’, that schoolhouse might withstand another apocalypse with all the work you’ve done on it. I hope its proprietor is…appreciative.” The cheeky wink eggs on a shoulder punch that almost becomes a wrestling match between two men who should know better. Instead Joel calls Tommy a name and Tommy laughs and Joel stares at the ceiling that night wondering if you would be…appreciative of what he’d like to give you. 

Only some of those thoughts are pure in nature.

But the years, even the kind ones, have choked up his tongue and made him a coward. You’re clearly eligible, no other men sniffing around much to Joel’s surprise. He doesn’t think it’s completely one-sided either. You smile at him and put your hand on his shoulder and stand close enough that he can smell your soap and gentle musk. And what’s worse is you’re something rare to him, something miraculously unsullied by twenty years of hell. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to survive without hardening, without breaking and mending over and over until the repair is the whole self. But you are still kind, and understanding, and gentle, and open. There’s only one reason Joel can attribute to this rarity. 

Someone loved you.

Someone loved you so very much that they protected you, let you be open-hearted and trusting even with the world crashing down. And if that someone is no longer here, that’s a hole he can never fill. But every day he spends in Jackson shedding years of plate armor and barbed wire, he contemplates if he might be getting closer to someone who could at least try. 

In the meantime he makes his excuses, much like now, and suppresses the little smiles and giddy feeling in his stomach. 

“Been meaning to check on that plumbing issue she had last week,” he says breezily, snow crunching underfoot and the chill air nipping at his nose. 

“Suuuure, I bet you’d love to see her plumbing,” Ellie snarks, sprinting away as Joel’s face heats up.

“Watch your fucking language, kid,” he growls, the irony not lost on him, as the schoolhouse comes into view.

You can always tell when Ellie arrives. The kids born after the outbreak have a peculiar set of social norms and rules. You’re not sure if she even knows that she should knock before entering, or take her boots off. Then again, it’s an exercise in contemplation when you consider why those societal norms would return when their framework’s been shattered.

Keep your boots on in case you have to run.

Don’t announce your entrance in case something’s lurking.

A whole other etiquette you watch like a zookeeper behind glass.

“Good morning Ellie,” you call from the kitchen. Your heart flutters briefly wondering if…

“Morning, ma’am.”

Joel ambles into the kitchen, massaging heat back into his palms. His cheeks are ruddy with windburn, and you bite the inside of your lip considering how your own hot palms could warm them. 

“Good morning Joel, didn’t expect you in so early.” Dusting your hands off, you round the counter to step into his space. A little game you like to play: how much more obvious must you be before he’ll notice you’re flirting with him? Another brushed shoulder, squeeze of the forearm, eyes connecting a second too long. Thrilling yes - it’s been a long time since you’ve had a crush - but at this rate you’ll both be ninety before either of you admit it. 

“Ellie has something to ask you,” he says, turning to look for his ward. The strange wording patters your heartbeat into an uneasy rhythm. 

“Should I be worried?” you laugh, Joel’s deep brown eyes coming back to your face with a sheepish smile. Oh god, when he smiles your knees can barely handle it.

“I might have passed the buck on a conversation.” 

Before you can ask Ellie slips into the kitchen, weaving around Joel’s wider frame and hopping up on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island. The ones Joel made with those strong hands and thick fingers.

“What’s the deal with Christmas?”

The question catches you off guard no matter the preamble. 

“Um. Huh. Well, I guess…what do you want to know?” you ask, sidling around to lean across the counter from her. Joel is still in your peripheral, practically filling the door frame.

“Everybody’s talking about it,” she bemoans, taking a dried apple slice you’d laid out and turning it on the countertop. “And I keep pretending it’s like, so awesome, but I just don’t…get it.” Her thumbnails pick at the leathery edge of the fruit, and the child you’ve watched pressure girls twice her age into shenanigans softens around the edges. 

“It’s all, ‘my family does this, my family does that,’ and it’s like…I never had anyone to celebrate with before. FEDRA did some stuff with us, but it was…” A shrug, accepted without comment. “And they all seem to love it, and I maybe want to…feel that.” The hedging makes you lean further over, grabbing your own apple slice and turning it between your fingers.

“Well, Joel must have told you there are a lot of ways people celebrate the holidays.” Looking up to Joel he grimaces slightly, raising one shoulder in apology. “And there are lots of different traditions. I’m not surprised you’re confused.”

“Yes! Is Jesus like, Santa’s kid or something?”

The stifled laugh comes straight out of your nose and you have to clear your throat to keep from snorting further. 

“Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here but tell you what, I’ve got a plan.” Ellie looks up at you with a guarded sparkle in her eyes, and it only widens your smile. “Let me do some research first. There are things I don’t know either. So how about you come back next week and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned during the tree decorating.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Tree decorating?”

You must be glowing by now. “Oh, you are in for a treat.”

Leaning against the doorway, Joel takes in the scene. Ellie’s moment of vulnerability, buried back under her feigned indifference. The excitement bubbling under the surface of your smile. 

The way you lean over the counter, the curve of your back only accentuating your shapely ass as you sway slightly. 

Fuck, maybe he should just come out and confess his crush so he can at least feel awkward when he sees you instead of embarrassingly horny.

He’s relieved Ellie suggested coming to you. Your solution to his problem is simple and brilliant, a weight lifting off his chest. Sometimes Ellie is no different than his child, and other times Sarah’s memory makes the smallest endearing unbearable.

Sarah’s mom had taken care of the holiday explanation, navigating the unique customs of their little household. She explained why they had a tree and a menorah, and who’s Santa and the Festival of Lights. When Sarah got older and started asking more pointed questions, they both sat down and explained all their traditions and why they were important. Joel had, admittedly, been more of a supporting role, but for their family it worked. 

Then Ellie had to pitch that question at him, looking up like Sarah had, though so much smaller, and his throat closed up. He knew she needed it. Hell, maybe even he could use some holiday cheer, but Ellie was too no-nonsense and Joel was too out of practice, ripe for bungling it up.

He’ll have to thank you in some way. Though there’s not much to fix nowadays, and if he spends much more time here volunteering he might get roped into actually being a teacher. 

“...and since it’s your first time, you get to add your own ornament to the tree. It can be anything you want, and at the end of the holidays we pack it up with the others for next year.”

That’s it, he thinks. A small way to repay your kindness. He has some scrap wood in the communal woodshop, and most evenings are quiet there. There must be a coping saw in some toolbox, a few rasps and awls. 

“That does sound pretty cool,” Ellie says, and where you might have thought it to be begrudging, Joel can clearly hear her excitement. 

“I think you’ll love it.”

That week was one of the busiest - and sneakiest - that Joel could recall in recent years. It seemed to be the same for you, watching you flit around town with a battered notebook and chewed-up pencil. You were talking to people, smiling, laughing. Whatever the conversation was made everyone else smile too, throwing fond looks at each other. Sometimes playful bickering, or conspiratorial whispers followed, and you gathered up all those words into that well-worn notepad. 

Joel, on the other hand, was making himself more scarce than usual. He kept up appearances, not slacking on patrols and showing up when he’s expected, but every free moment is spent in the woodshop. 

He could have gone the simple route, cutting slices out of some nice quality wood, something with a live edge, but it was too simple. He wanted something that would make you light up, your mouth drop open and your eyes sparkle. 

Further back than he’s willing to count, he remembered a fellow contractor showing him gifts he made for his daughters each year. Beautiful wooden snowflakes, carved in geometric shapes that would reveal tessellations and patterns when glued together. 

The idea seemed simple enough, but it had been a long time since his hands had done anything delicate. The pattern was easy to make, but as he dragged the coping saw along the curves and points his hand would cramp, or the blade would zig when he wanted it to zag. He’d get up and walk around the shop to shake out the frustration, telling himself it’s only four more pieces…for this ornament. 

When he feels like giving up and tossing the whole project in the trash, he thinks of the feeling he’ll get when you hang them on the branches, the way you might touch his arm or look into his eyes when you thank him. 

And then he thinks that forget the mistletoe, he’ll kiss you whenever and wherever you’ll let him.

On the fourth day of hiding in the woodshop Ellie bursts in, halfway through a sentence before she even gets in the door.

“...and I haven’t gotten her anything and I know she’ll get me something so like, what should I…” Her entrance startles him, yanking a rag over a freshly glued ornament. 

Too slow, old man, he thinks as her eyes snap to his attempt at deception.

“What’cha got there, Joel?” she asks, sly smile matching her embellished cadence. 

“Just workin’ on things, what were you talking about?” he deflects, leaning on one elbow to hide the mess behind his shoulder. Ellie nods, understanding stark on her face as she ambles up.

“Oh sure, since when have you ever cared what I’m talking about?”

Joel can’t stop the hurt look dashing across his face, leaning forward. “I care…”

Tricked! Ellie’s hands dart under his arm and yank the cloth away, exposing the half-assembled ornaments and lengths of twine.

“You’re so fucking easy…” she starts to say, but the words stop when she sees the mess underneath. 

“What are those?” she asks, and for a moment Joel wants to snark something back at her - none of your goddamn business or don’t make fun of me - but then he realizes she probably doesn’t have any idea what they are. What would she have seen adorning a tree? Maybe dried fruit, popcorn, little trinkets that people saved hoping one day they could have Christmas again? 

So he clears his throat and makes himself vulnerable. To a teenager. Easily one of the scariest things on this earth, cordyceps included.

“They’re for the tree lighting. Had a buddy who used to make ‘em, and I thought it’d be a nice gift for…to the schoolhouse. For being so helpful and all that.” He can feel his ears reddening but Ellie hasn’t taken her eyes off the snowflakes. She traces one of the finished ones, pointer finger running along the edge he dulled with an ancient rust-filled rasp. “You hang them on the tree.”

Ellie’s quiet for a moment, inspecting and nudging the pieces around, before she finally speaks.

“They’re cool. I didn’t know contractors could make pretty things too.”

Joel snorts, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll let you know I’m a man of multitudes.”

She snorts, the tension breaking, as Joel moves pieces around to show how they fit together to form the abstract snowflake shape. As he’s explaining the process she’s shockingly quiet, but everything is open - eyes, ears, half-parted mouth. If he’d known this was something they shared he would have built things with her ages ago.

“Is one of these mine? The one I can bring?”

Joel mulls for a moment, tapping fingers on the workbench, before he hauls himself up to stand.

“Nah, I’ve got something better for you.”

It takes a few minutes of searching for a suitable wood piece not being used for something important. Then a few more to saw off a round, sweat beading on the edge of his hairline and biceps tensing. Ellie’s eyes widen when he hands her the wood circle, ushering her back to the workbench. 

“I think somethin’ more personal would be good to bring. How about you write your name on it?”

Ellie’s eyes narrow, playfully mistrusting.

“Just my name?”

“You’ll see.”

As she writes and erases about six times, Joel hunts through the workshop for the little woodburning kit he spied weeks ago. It’s janky, but it doesn’t electrocute him when he plugs it in. He waves Ellie over and takes the wood, admiring her no-nonsense script. 

“They ever teach you woodburning at school?” Ellie shakes her head, and Joel’s smile turns lopsided. “Then you’re gonna love this.”

Using the hot metal tip of the fat pencil-like tool, he meticulously traces her lettering, burning it permanently into the wood.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool!” she exclaims, getting close enough that he has to shoo her back so she doesn’t get wisps of woodsmoke right up her nose. He lets her finish the last E, warning her to go slow so the line doesn’t chatter. It’s not perfect, but she’s so excited he can’t find fault.

“Now for a little holiday decoration,” he mumbles, and with stiff joints and too-big hands he burns in a border of holly leaves and berries, even dotting the I in her name with one. 

“All finished,” he says, and before he can even blow on the final product it’s in her hands, tracing the lines and practically thrumming with excitement.

“Can I keep it?” she asks, spinning it in her palm. 

“Just until this weekend, but I can show you how to make…” His sentence trails off as she’s already heading for the door.

“Awesome, thanks Joel!” she calls over her shoulder. He chuckles to himself, ambling back to his own little project. Ellie turns in the doorway, silhouetted by the sun dipping low.

“She’ll love those too,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows and disappearing before he can retort. Sighing, he turns back to the last few pieces he needs to assemble.

He hopes she does.

Joel finishes the ornaments just in time for the tree decorating, timed perfectly with Jackson’s town square lighting. Joel saw Tommy drag the tree into your schoolhouse, conversing with you and Maria as he brushed stray needles from your front porch. The way you smiled when someone did kind things for you warmed Joel even from afar.

“Planning on helping out with the festivities tonight?” Tommy asked as the day wound down, putting boxes on the bar as Joel enjoyed a whiskey. 

“Ellie wants to go to the tree decoratin’, figured I’d make myself useful.”

Tommy’s half smile hovers in his periphery. He tries to ignore it.

“You got something to hang on that nice teacher’s tree?” Joel rolls his eyes and throws back the drink. He’s not going to sit by and tolerate romance advice from his baby brother. “C’mon, you know she’s into you, right? Looks at you like you hung the moon.” Tommy leans on the bar, turning something small between his fingers. “See you looking at her like that too. Practically Hallmark shit by now.” 

“See ya, Tommy,” Joel sighs, getting up from his chair while rolling his eyes.

“Well, at least you can bring this too,” he says, and holds out what he’s been fiddling with. 

Joel looks down, and his heart stops.

“...Where did you…”

Tommy’s face softens, placing the item between them on the bar. 

“Went home before I ended up in Jackson. Not a lot left there, but I found the Christmas box in the basement. It was one of the few things I could carry with me.” Tommy’s face fights an emotion welling up, forcing a smile even as his eyes shine. “Thought she could be part of a new tradition too.”

A small wooden ornament fashioned to look like a Christmas ball, the name “Sarah” painted in the center and surrounded by red and green patterns. She brought it home from school and it had a prominent place on their tree, even as she got older and complained about how ugly it was. 

Joel’s throat is so tight his breath whistles out, chest pounding and eyes stinging, but he picks up the ornament and cradles it in his work-worn hands. Then, a lightness eases his breathing, and a soft smile plays across his face. He clears his throat preemptively, pocketing the treasure.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll put it next to Ellie’s. Thank…thank you,” he stumbles, and the brothers share a moment of memory. 

“And you know, everyone’s gonna be out looking at the lights tonight in case you need some privacy,” Tommy suggests, breaking the tension with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. 

“Bye, Tommy,” Joel calls over his shoulder, Tommy’s chuckle ushering him out.

You must have done this many times before, because when Joel and Ellie walk into the schoolhouse it’s like something off a holiday card. The school supplies are tucked away in favor of  soft seating areas. The tree Tommy brought in is tucked in a corner, lights already wound around the thick boughs. Something apple and spiced wafts through the air, and the chatter of children and adults alike is at the comfortable level that it blankets everything in a festive glow. 

Ellie’s face is glowing too, taking in the drastic shift in decor. She hangs back a little, eyes roaming and waving to friends but shyly tucked behind Joel’s elbow. Her hand is in her pocket, and Joel would put money on her ornament being in the palm of her hand. Joel’s not much better, Sarah’s in his own and a paper packet tucked under his arm. 

Before either of them can feel too out of place, you weave through the growing crowd with a wave. 

“I’m so glad you could come!” you call out, squeezing Joel’s arm and beaming down at Ellie. She shifts on her feet, a small smile appearing at a familiar face.

“This is wild, is like the whole town here?” she asks, and you shrug with your hands on your hips. Some of your hair is out of place, and perspiration clings to your throat. Joel swallows, eyes darting away. 

“Well I did say I had a special surprise for tonight, and you inspired it!” you say, motioning to a series of little dioramas tucked into an empty bookshelf. Ellie weaves around Joel to get a closer look as you point out one of the shelves.

“You asked me about Christmas and I didn’t know what to tell you because I don’t know all that much about how it came to be, or the traditions around it. But then I realized we’re all building a new world together, and the holidays are what we bring with us.” You slide a piece of paper out and hand it to Ellie, and she reads it with a growing smile. Joel leans over to catch a glimpse at your prim handwriting.

Christmas was very traditional in my house. Santa was supposed to come by and bring us presents for being good girls and boys. We would write letters to him about things we wanted, and our parents were supposed to deliver them to him. On Christmas Eve we baked cookies and left them out for Santa because he had a lot of houses to deliver to and needed snacks. I left out carrots for the reindeer too, because they were doing all the work. And then on Christmas morning dad made pancakes and we weren’t allowed to open anything until mom was up. I believed in Santa until I was about 12, when I asked how he could get into houses without chimneys. My parents told me that Santa was an idea, not a real person, and the spirit of the season was to show people you appreciate them and give back to the community around you. I was more worried that I would get less presents if Santa wasn’t giving them to me anymore.

“I gathered up all these stories from everyone in Jackson, of all faiths and beliefs, and you can read through them and see how everyone celebrates.” You lean down now, speaking quieter. “There’s no right way, and no one person celebrates the same as everyone else. The one thing that does stay the same is that it’s a time to show love to the people around you.” 

Joel’s eyes roam the shelves, spotting a Hanukkah-themed scene and something with bright colors he doesn’t recognize. Pages of script torn from your notepad tuck behind Santa figurines and menorahs and little wooden shoes. Ellie picks up another slip of paper. 

“Wait, there are elves?”

You shrug, straightening up and catching Joel’s eye. He gives a lopsided smile as you’re pulled away by someone else entering, a twinkling light in the night surrounding Jackson. 

A time to show love to the people around you? Maybe he can finally pluck up the courage to do that.

“Okay, everyone with an ornament please come up to the tree! Not too many at one time!” you call out, and Joel’s heart jumps into his throat. He pulls the packet from under his arm, hoping that maybe a bunch of kids would rush to the front, but everyone is reluctant to be the first. You stand by the tree, a shimmer of trepidation on your face, and Joel takes the first step.

“Brought these for…for the tree,” he says, handing the rough package to her. He should have put a bow on it, but he already wrestled with the packaging too long, he didn’t think he had the nerve to make it look any more like a gift. All eyes are on you as you unfold the wrapping, eyes darting up to Joel like he’s playing a trick, but when six delicate snowflakes are revealed a murmur of chatter fills the room. Your eyebrows lift, eyes lighting up and he wishes he’d given it to you alone. He wants your appreciation and surprise and happiness all for himself, even as the whispers, “oh wows,” and “good job, Joels,” waft to his ears. 

“Joel, these are amazing,” you breathe, lifting one of the snowflakes out to dangle on your fingers. A smattering of applause he doesn’t deserve deepens his blush, but he takes the praises as graciously as possible. “I’m…thank you so much. I’m going to put them on, please everyone! Bring your ornaments up!” The snap into something much cheerier and brighter flutters Joel’s heart, catching a brief shine in your eye as you busy yourself adding his ornaments to the tree. 

Could he go to you in the hubbub of people now approaching, lay a hand on your shoulder and envelope you in his arms? The ache to do so is close to a real animal in his chest begging to be touched. Instead he hangs back as kids hang dried apples and garland, painted baubles and all varieties of crafts. Wooden birds with real plumage, tiny knitted mittens, worn pictures encased in resin. His eyes draw to Ellie, sidling up next to you to hang her name ornament. You help her pick a spot, and Joel can see how you praise the design, and add some reassuring words. Standing back from the tree Ellie leans against you, and you wrap an arm around her shoulders. 

The world slows around them, frozen in time under Joel’s watchful eye. He blinks, capturing a mental photo of this moment. He’ll look back on it often, the way Ellie both looks so much like a child but also so grown. How you give her kindness and support in as quiet of a way as she’ll accept, rewarded with her ease. And the feeling in his own chest, expanding and swelling like his heart could never fit his body again.

“Look outside!” calls one of the younger children, and the crush of people move from the tree to the windows at the front of the schoolhouse. Craning his neck, Joel catches the lights strung around town starting to click on, brilliant bubbles of amber light dissipating the darkness. A murmur kicks up, and the tree sparkles to life with colorful pops illuminating every memory adorning its branches. There’s cheering and clapping again, this time well deserved, and Ellie’s face brightens as her name sways gently with all of the others. 

“There’s more!” someone cheers, and the front door opens to guide the group out and onto the frigid streets. Ellie’s head whips around, eyes pleading, and Joel can only nod with feigned annoyance as she rushes out.

“Put on your hat…” he calls after her, but if she hears she gives no indication. In a moment the schoolhouse is empty of all but you and him. Joel glimpses more lights leading the people of Jackson through the town center, noise dulling to a comforting hum. 

You’re still in front of the tree, admiring the final product. Joel takes a deep breath and slowly approaches, standing beside you in comfortable silence. You take in a big breath of your own and blow it out, satisfaction painting your features.

“Every year it seems like it’ll never get done, and yet it always comes together,” you say, bumping shoulders with Joel. He snorts and smiles, taking in all of the chaotic beauty of the decorations.

“Meant a lot to Ellie that you did all this,” he says, tossing his head back at the written history you compiled. You cock your head at him thoughtfully. 

“It got me thinking, you know. What’s important to everyone, now that we’re here after everything?” Your eyes search the tree, Joel’s following. “For me, it was my dad. We called him Father Christmas. Loved the holidays, was excited for them every year.” Your fingers find a red plastic boot nestled in the boughs. “When we got to Jackson he was so excited to be around people again, to feel that community. He brought Christmas back for lots of people.” A watery sigh signals Joel to lean closer, fitting his arm snugly around your waist. It’s never felt more right to hold someone. “The years since he’s passed have been hard to keep this all up, but it’s also the closest I feel to him.” 

Joel reaches into his pocket, Sarah’s ornament in the palm of his hand. Ellie’s has a perfect spot next to it, and he tucks them together amongst the lights. Fresh spruce tickles his nostrils as he arranges them just so.

“My daughter,” Joel says, and it may be the first time he’s offered this part of himself up willingly. “Lost her on the day it all went to hell. She loved the holidays too, always wanted to see real snow. You know, like something out of a Norman Rockwell.” The rest of the words he wants to say stick in his throat, but it’s enough. You turn to him, sliding a hand up his arm to squeeze it gently. A knowing smile curves your lips, tempting as hot cocoa after a cold day.

“Thank you, Joel. For the ornaments, for being here. For everything.”

His body steps into yours, pulling you close. Your eyes widen briefly, then your expression becomes hopeful.

“Thought maybe I was being obvious, around all the time looking for a reason to be where you are,” Joel muses, finally bold enough to cup your cheek. Leaning into it, you fit your body into his.

“Maybe I thought it was too good to be true,” you say, a tiny brush of his thumb over your lips startling a breath out. 

“Pretty sure it’s me who’s been feelin’ that way, darlin’,” Joel teases, but the yearning in your eyes tells him he’s got to say it now. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for…so goddamn long.”

Then your hand winds into his nape, and your lips meet.

You’re as soft as he hoped, yielding to his firmer press but bold when he parts his lips and your tongue begs entrance. A choked moan dies in his throat as cinnamon and apple dances on his palate, cradling your head so he can deepen the kiss. The grip on his hair tightens, your other hand fisted in his flannel. He wraps around you, protector, devotee, your body and soul safe with him.

Your lips part regretfully, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath. Beating him to composure, you tilt your chin to press a kiss to a spot on his jaw where his beard is a little thin.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you here for so long,” you repeat, breathy giggles rippling through you both. Joel dips in to claim your lips again, softer, slower. Your arms wind around his neck, and if he wasn’t keenly aware that at any moment someone could wander back in he would have laid you out to explore with his lips and teeth and tongue. His calmer head prevailed.

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t ask you for a single other thing, Christmas or not, if you’d say you’ll be mine,” he asks, heart on the line as he hopes you feel the magic of this moment just as much. Your eyes crinkle, fingers stroking through his hair.

“Joel Miller, nothing would make me happier,” you answer, earning another sweetly spicy kiss. When you part again, you say, “Well, except…”

Joel’s heart hammers, eyebrows knitting up in concern.

“...I could use help putting the star on my tree tonight. The one in my bedroom?” 

A mischievous smile darts onto Joel’s face, playfully squeezing your ass.

“And how tall is this tree? Should I bring my ladder?”

You tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Maybe two, three feet?”

Joel nods with understanding.

“Of course, we should take care of that immediately.”

“Immediately.”

Hand in hand, you exit the schoolhouse, leaving it unlocked in case anyone wants to come bask in the holiday cheer later in the evening. Looking down the main street, Jackson is lit like a beacon of hope. Children toss snowballs at each other while parents watch on and laugh. Ellie is talking to a girl her age, shyly extending a paper-wrapped gift. A beautiful, kind woman is holding his hand and if his back were better he’d throw her over his shoulder in his haste to get her alone. 

And in the darkest of times, when the days are short and cold and hope runs thin, there is still so much love to share.

END

A/N: the ornaments Joel makes were inspired by a gift I got a few years back. These handmade ornaments are some of my favorites every year!

[valkyrieromanoff]

GUESS THE LINE: Pedro Pascal x actress! reader

Summary: You and Pedro play Guess the line.

Tags: can be read in a platonic way or not, fluff, just friends having fun together.

A/N: My college is back and it's already killing me. I should be finishing my internship report, but here I am finishing one more imagine about Pedro Pascal. 

I hope you enjoy it, and sorry for the spelling mistakes.

“Hi, I’m Pedro Pascal”

“And I’m Y/N” 

“And this is” Your co-star began, tilting his head to face you so that you could speak together. “Is this a line from Caught Eye?”

"I confess my memory is not the best, but we'll see how it goes." You said while staring at the papers on the table. 

Pedro took the first one and looked at the paper for a moment before returning to you. “Are you ready?”

“I was born ready.” You joked.

“Born ready..” Pedro repeated laughing, as if he thought the pun was very funny. He took another look at the paper. "This one's pretty easy. You'll get it right."

“I'll get this wrong, just because you said it.” You smiled.

“You stay awake, do you hear me?! Don’t you dare close your eyes! Please, come on!” Pedro read the sentence, making his tone more serious.

"It's your line, Caught Eye, Miguel." You said it, lightly tapping your head as if it were obvious. "That scene, with a lot of fake blood involved, still haunts me." You reminded.

"Really? I found it so relaxing to sit in the snow while they threw more fake blood over it." Pedro sneered, waiting for you to grab another paper.

"Come on." You muttered, after reading the sentence.

"What? You don't know where the phrase is from?" Pedro asks, tilting his head to see what's written but returning when he remembers that the point of the game was to guess. 

"I know, it's just a coincidence." You explained, reading on. “Did you really not see it? Or were you too afraid to look?”

"Um, I'm not sure." He muttered, scratching his beard, making an exaggerated expression of contemplation. "I'm kidding, it's Miguel, Caught Eye. Those are so easy."

"I said, better than I imagined." You agreed, tossing the paper aside.

Pedro laughed when he read the line on the paper. He straightened in his chair, preparing his southern accent to recite.

“How would you like to ride home a real cowboy? I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie’s out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar.”

You laughed, because you knew the answer. In fact, everyone with tiktok knew exactly where that audio was from.

“Agent Whiskey, Kingsman: The Golden Circle.” You said, and Pedro responded with 'ding, ding, ding'. "When you released that film, did you imagine that six years later, it would bomb again because of your character?" Pedro chuckled and shook his head.

"Surely, I knew that at some point, Whiskey would be the star." He joked. "I'm kidding, I never thought that would happen. I guess it was a nice surprise that thousands of people out of nowhere liked me."

"Who doesn't like you, Pedro?" You said, as he smiled discreetly. 

You picked up a new paper.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I’m trying to care.” You read, uncertain.

You read, uncertain.

"You don't know what movie it is?" Pedro asked, noticing your confusion.

"I have no idea." 

Pedro laughed.

“Dieter, The Bubble.”

"How did you know?" You asked curiously.

"I played him." Pedro shrugged as you blushed embarrassedly.

"Well, it must be a good movie." You retorted, waiting for him to pick up the next line.

“Just because you don’t see something doesn’t mean it isn't there.” Pedro read, staring at you expectantly.

"Caught eye."

"Who said that?" He asked.

"Me, I said it."

"You're right." Pedro confirmed, tossing the paper away.

"That's a good one." You commented, reading the sentence. “It’s easier when you’re a kid anyway. You don’t have anybody else relying on you. That’s the hard part.”

"It's from The Last of Us, Joel tells Henry when Sam and Ellie are playing." Peter spoke up, celebrating his answer. "I'm really good at that."

You chuckled.

Pedro stared at the paper, and shook his head thoughtfully.

"You don't know what it is?" you asked curiously.

"No, I know, I was just trying to remember when it happened." He spoke.

 “Silly girl, can’t you see the truth in front of you? You mean nothing to him, you’re just bargaining chips for his freedom.”

"I remember that one, Caught Eye, Alexander says that to me." You stated. "I remember my face getting swollen from crying so much in that scene, Mads Mikkelsen is a really great actor, he acts his part so well."

"He really is, he can convey that aura of complex and morally grey characters." Pedro agreed.

"Okay, I hope you get that one right. Otherwise we'll have problems," You played along, while Peter raised his hands in a sign of peace.

 “You give out pieces of yourself to people but never let them see the whole picture.”

“Oh, that’s Lost.”

"What?" you exclaimed confused.

"I'm kidding, Caught Eye, Anna." Pedro spoke up, moving his shoulders as if the answer was obvious. "Your character said that to mine, while they were hiding in a sewer tunnel."

"Yeah, it wasn't one of the best locations." You joked.

"Only two left." Pedro commented, choosing one. He cleared his throat, leaving his tone of voice low and murmuring. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

"Oh, it's Din Djardin." You spoke, while your co-star nodded in agreement. "I'm just unsure if it's The Mandalorian or The Book of Boba Fett, because you said that in both."

"That's right, but they put The Mandalorian in here." Pedro agreed, showing the paper to you.

"Ready for the last one?" You asked, pretending to think of which paper to pick up.

"More than ever."

"This is a tricky one." You muttered. "Everybody works for somebody."

"I feel like it's something a lot of characters in different shows and contexts could have said ." Pedro spoke up, fixing his glasses. "Can I get a hint?"

"Okay, everything I think makes it very obvious." You spoke, trying to think. "Okay, pay attention."

Pedro nodded his head in agreement.

"Cocaine, wait, can I say that?" You scolded yourself, remembering that kids could watch the interview online.

Pedro laughed, tilting his head back slightly, his eyes almost closed, crinkling at the sides. 

"Narcos, Javier Penã." He said. "That was a good line."

"Those catchphrases you use before cut the scene." You agreed. 

"Well, looks like we're out of lines." Pedro commented, looking at the empty table. "I had a lot of fun guessing which ones belonged to whom."

"You were great at the game." You praised him.

"You got them all right, I think we make a good team." Pedro spoke, stretching his arms out for you to clap hands.

"Yeah, we are." You agreed, slapping his hand, a slight noise sounding. 

You both laughed.

[miller-lookforthe-lite]

steps: part two

joel miller x f!reader

rating: M

words: 7k

tags/warnings: unplanned/(unwanted?) pregnancy, thoughts and discussion of abortion, UNSOUND MEDICAL PRACTICE/ADVICE, description of injury, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, not proofread i'm literally so sorry - please heed the warnings, as these may be triggering to some! MDNI

part one | read on ao3

There are no doctors in Kansas City. There’s nothing left of the QZ, in fact, besides a group of raging militants who have taken over and are hunting for the very two boys you happen upon. Henry and Sam don’t have much, but they have a relentless ambition, and Joel must see that as reason enough to go with them.

As you journey through the tunnels underneath the city, you get sicker. It’s clear to you now that this is not some nightmare you can wish away, not like one of your silent demons. This is real, and here, and now, and if you’re not pregnant, you’re dying. You’re not sure which would be worse.

Ellie finds out while she’s kicking a soccer ball with Sam, because Joel lowers his head to inquire to Henry about a pregnancy test and is a lot less fucking quiet than he ought to be.

Her head snaps towards them and you scowl at Joel, burning his entrails with your eyes, picturing his slow demise, then feeling even more sick at the prospect, taking it back, praying the Deity didn’t hear you think it so it won’t come true.

“What the fuck?” Ellie exclaims, her head whipping to you. “You —” Her head swings back to Joel almost cartoonishly. “And you? I thought — ew, gross, but holy shit — I thought Tess —”

“Ellie,” you warn quickly, trying to jump ahead of Joel’s ire, because that definitely also happened and you know he’ll never tell you why or why you happened after.

“Enough,” Joel snaps, and the room hangs still. Even Sam, though no one has bothered to bring him up to speed, can tell that the tension simmers low, and he abandons the soccer ball in favor of curling up by the far wall.

Joel turns back to Henry. “You know where I could find one or not?”

Henry shrugs. “All kinds of shit stashed in here, man. Take a look.”

Ellie’s gaze is burning into your skin, but when you turn to look at her, you only see a quiet understanding in her eyes, a Knowing too old to live in a body so young. She plops down in the seat next to you while Joel and Henry are off rummaging through the bins on the far side of the bunker, and her huff troubles a strand of her hair. You reach forward to tuck it out of her face. Her mouth is set into a grim line.

“Is that why you’ve been sick?” She murmurs, her voice betraying her fear.

Your heart clenches. You didn’t want her to have to feel the way that you were feeling. She shouldn’t have to shoulder it, shoulder you, but you don’t know how else to be with her but truthful. Her face so open, so honest, begs nothing less in return.

“Yeah,” you say, and she reaches out to grab your hand. You blink back sudden tears that choke your throat and crowd your lashes.

“It’ll get better then,” Ellie says, knee bouncing. “The sickness. I heard that it gets better after a while. And you won’t have to yack every time we think about cooking beans. So that’s a plus.”

You can’t help but smile, still feeling hot and slippery with shame, but hope shines through, minuscule and persistent. “I hope so,” you whisper.

—

When you leave the motel, Ellie’s the one to lead the charge. You follow her, leaving Joel gazing down at the graves he just dug. Henry and Sam are under those piles of dirt, and you can’t help but think that it’s some kind of curse that surrounds you, the same deadly spirit that befell Tess.

Ellie thinks it’s her fault, a strangled confession pulled out of her that she knew Sam had been bitten but tried to save him. You know that feeling, know the despair it leaves behind, but you’re not quite sure how to reach the place she’s gone to.

A plastic-wrapped stick sits in your pocket, has for days, but you’re too scared to do more than make sure it’s there, palming reassurance. Henry had slipped it to you before he died, not saying a word, but there was kindness in his gaze. There was a care you didn’t know people still had for other strangers. Your heart aches.

Along the road, it’s been hard to find food. Joel had shoved what he could from the bunker into his bag, but there wasn’t much in the way of nonperishables - the Kansas City militants had already taken care of that. He let you have the last of the crackers, but you can’t help the pangs of hunger that wrack through you late at night, curled up in a ball on the ground, your back to some tree or to him or to Ellie, one of them always wrapped around you, always watching. You can’t help the dread that follows either, that you swallow like the air that feeds you these days.

Joel feels it too. You know he does, but he’s better at hiding it. He’s acting strange lately — delicate — not something you’ve ever known him to be. He guards you when you’re sleeping, but can hardly look at you in the daylight. Where he’s started to let his eyes wrinkle at Ellie’s teasing jibes or stupid puns, he slams his lid shut when you deign to speak your piece. He offers you a hand to help you over a ridge, and always, always throws an arm in front of you when he thinks something sinister lies ahead, but then swiftly pulls away like the boil of your blood burns him too.

After six days have passed, you go behind a tree and pee on the stick. It’s not hard. All you fucking do is piss these days. What is hard is remembering the hands that touched the test before you - a dead man’s fingers before they pulled a trigger twice, him and another child. Is that the price you pay? One child’s life for another? What kind of sign is that — what kind of life is this? What kind of world to bring a baby into?

Two lines glare back at you. You muffle your sob into the heel of your hand.

—

Your teeth are clattering against each other, your violent shivering overtaking any autonomy you once had over your limbs.

You’ve set up camp underneath a rock overhang, and your breath comes out in puffs. Ellie’s pressed as close to you as she can get between the layers of your coats, the extra flannel that Joel had wrapped around her hanging loosely off her puffy-coated shoulders.

You’re in Nebraska, as far as you can tell, wide open plains stretching as far as you can see, the foothills offering little respite from the biting prairie wind, but you take what you can get under the boulder’s meager shelter.

Joel hasn’t stopped moving since you decided to set up here; he’s tearing up jerky pieces, distributing them to you and Ellie and only pushing one between his lips when you glare, he’s coiling some rope, he’s pushing a tarp under some stones to provide some cover from the ceaseless wind. You wish you could bring yourself to get up and help, but you don’t know how much help you’d be, not with the illness still permeating your veins, your trembling uncontrollable.

When Ellie figures out that she can’t fix it no matter how she lends her heat to you, she speaks up where you couldn’t.

“We need a fire,” she wheezes to Joel, eyes flicking to you even though she tries to hide it.

He sniffs, doesn’t look up from his tarp-maneuvering. “It’d blow out,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

Your desperation pushes you to chime in. “We could at least try. Under the tarp, or maybe the rock would shield it enough —”

“It won’t,” Joel snaps, and he still won’t look at you. He clearly intended to stymie your words, but now that you’ve started, you can’t stop.

You get up from your spot next to Ellie and wrap her firmly in the blanket from your pack. You stumble on shaky legs over to where Joel continues to fiddle, continues to fuss. “Let me just fucking try, Joel, we’re freezing, we can’t—”

You reach for the flint that you know is in the bag he holds. Your gloved hand brushes his, layers of cloth and unspoken and Too Spoken between you, and still he pulls away like he’s been burned. You freeze, watching him quickly shift to a different task, turning his collar further up against the wind.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You don’t know why it hurts so much to curl up next to the fire that night.

—

When you stop to make camp a few nights later, you decide you’ve had enough of this, this awkwardness and separation that your revelation had caused you. After Ellie’s been asleep for an hour, her soft breaths quiet in the dark, you push Joel behind a tree before he can protest, grab his face with your hands and pull his mouth to yours before he can remember that you haven’t spoken, haven’t talked about it, have only worried in silence. He grunts, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you, before pulling back, only a little, the slightest breath of distance. His eyes are locked on yours, so close that you can’t see straight, can only see brown brown brown, can only drown in it.

“I don’t…” he says softly, one hand on your wrist and the grabbing for your waist, turning you, pushing your back into the rough bark, but so gently, so gently it prickles and scrapes and wounds.

“Why not?” You say like you haven’t noticed how he’s been treating you differently, like he doesn’t know what to say to you, like you aren’t the same person you’ve always been before all of this. Like you aren’t praying praying praying that he won’t make you beg.

(He doesn’t.)

—

It’s dusk when you stumble upon a still-smoking pile of ash, the crisp wind spiraling it up to the conifer fronds above, dancing its warning like a specter. It makes Joel stop in his tracks. His shoulders, ever broad and imposing, are tense.

He spins on his heel and almost knocks right into Ellie, who trails mindlessly behind him.

“Dude!” She protests.

“We’re goin’,” he hisses under his breath, grabbing onto the handle of her backpack to drag her along with him.

You have to pick up your pace to keep stride with him, bounding through the trees. “Joel—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, releasing Ellie’s bag. She remains next to him without issue or question. “We gotta circle back to the road. Ain’t safe if there’s more people out here.”

“The road?” Your skin is warm, your breath coming short, but you keep your voice quiet as his, startled to stir the crunching leaves beneath your tired boots. “Joel, we got off the road ‘cause there were people —”

“I know why we got off the road.” His countenance is fierce, his resolve steely, but he still won’t look at you.

“It’s safer with the cover,” you insist behind him, a furious ire bubbling in the back of your throat. “Here we can — we can —” You’re gasping for air now, and Ellie notices, her steps faltering. She tugs on Joel’s jacket, wordlessly. You have to stop and brace your palm on the rough bark of the oak that shelters you, your vision narrowing to a tunnel of blurred, black edges and brown sodden ground.

You don’t know how he got there, but he appears in front of you, one hand gripping your bicep and the other pulling your own hand to his heart.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and you try, you really do, but you know he sees the truth of it.

You’re fading, ability dulling quicker than an overused knife, and you can feel the panic crest in your mind, the sting of liability pricking at your consciousness.

“Sorry,” you struggle to say. He just takes an enormous breath, the cavern of his lungs expanding and exhaling underneath your hand. You follow the mountain of it, the in and the out and up and down, and it makes it a little easier to see again.

You drag your eyes up to meet his, shame and exhaustion omnipresent parents in your expression. He looks blown wide open, sad, maybe worried, but mostly so, so certain.

His grip on you tightens. “Let’s stay in the woods,” he whispers his acquiescence. You feel no kind of victory. You want him to argue with you, not the dark circles printed onto the skin under your eyes. That can’t be all you are now.

Joel tenses suddenly, eyes flicking from you up to the edge of the tree line. You think he’s about to grab you and Ellie and run when you hear a muffled shriek from behind him, his broad form blocking your sight. He whips around to reveal two women, one with golden-red hair and one with a knife to Ellie’s throat. Ellie struggles and swears and writhes. You freeze.

The golden-red-haired woman has a revolver pointed at the two of you. You can’t see Joel’s face, but you know that he’s furious. You almost hope it’s with you, hope it’s because you caused him to turn his back, to lose his focus. You want him to feel the way you feel.

“Quit it,” hisses the taller woman that has a hold on Ellie, like she’s speaking to an incessant fly rather than a young girl at her mercy.

“Let her go,” Joel says lowly, calmly. There’s no questioning a tone like that. “Then you and I can talk like adults.”

“We don’t want trouble,” the golden-red-haired woman responds smoothly, her fist around the revolver begging argument. “Just hungry. Just lookin’ for food.”

You don’t even think about whether you should, whether Joel has a plan. You keep your eyes on Ellie as she continues to squirm. She’s afraid, but maybe not as much as she should be. Her confidence in you crushes you. You dart forward to Joel’s bag, unzip it from where it rests on his back. You pull out the measly offerings - two more pieces of jerky wrapped in flaking paper. An old health bar. Some roasted acorns you had made that taste like bitter ash. You throw the food at their feet. Joel doesn’t stop you.

The woman holding Ellie narrows her eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you plead. “You can check.”

You shoulder off your own, lighter pack and toss it to them. Joel glares at you, his fingers clearly itching towards his own gun tucked in the back of his pants, but you glare right back. Not with Ellie’s throat under a blade, you try to tell him with your fear.

The golden-red-haired woman bends down slowly to rummage through your bag, revolver still pointed your way. Joel shifts his weight while the woman looks down and she cocks the gun without even looking up, clicking her tongue in admonishment. Once she deems your supplies as paltry as you had claimed, she stands up, kicking the bag over, and slipping your meager offerings into her pockets. “Fine. Elaine, let her go.”

Elaine’s eyes flash like she’s considering an argument, and you try to calculate the distance from your hand to Joel’s gun, from the bullet to the spot between Elaine’s eyes, and the speed her lithe wrist would need to flick the knife across Ellie’s life.

Your action is decided for you when Elaine relents, shoving Ellie out of her grasp and forward to the forest floor. You’re there to catch her in your arms, her gangly limbs knocking painfully against yours, her furious demeanor tempered by your trembling.

You pull her back with you towards Joel, scrambling on the ground, and look up to see he’s drawn his gun. “Get movin’, then.” He bares his teeth at them.

Elaine moves to back away, but the other woman hesitates. Elaine nudges her shoulder with her own and hisses. “Madison.”

Madison looks between you and Joel as he helps you and Ellie up like she’s trying to decide something. Ellie seethes with derision and you have to clutch her to keep her from springing back towards her captors, this time on the attack. She only settles when she realizes she can’t lash out without hurting you, her fury still spitting but her face turning into your collarbone, probably more for your sake than her own. You rest your palm on her head. Joel’s got his free arm wrapped around you, too, sandwiching you and Ellie tight to his side.

Madison seems to decide and opens her mouth. “You know the way to Jackson?”

Elaine halts her retreat, brows furrowed and eyes clenched.

Joel holds his gun steady. “Get out of here.”

Madison continues to speak like she didn’t hear him. “Settlement out in Wyoming. My brother was headed there with an old army buddy. Heard they take people —”

She cuts off at the click of Joel’s safety. His finger rests on the trigger. He doesn’t say another word, just bores into her with eyes of molten lead.

Madison nods, and before you can blink, she and Elaine are gone. You’d almost believed you’d dreamed them up if your stomach didn’t turn at the thought of your reserves, now depleted.

Joel doesn’t let either of you move for a good ten minutes, his gun still raised and his arm still around you both. Ellie’s breathing has evened out and she turns her head up to look at you. You run a hand through her ponytail. “Okay?” You whisper. She nods, lips in a hard line.

You let her burrow herself back into you and look up at Joel. His thoughts race too fast to hide from his expression, and when he finally lowers the gun, he steps forward to grab your pack and swing it over his own shoulder.

His jaw grinds itself to dust as he stares at the ground, and it occurs to you what he might be agonizing over.

“Army buddy in Wyoming? Joel—” Your breath catches before you can really ask him. He looks up at you with hardened eyes and nods.

You let out a shuddering exhale, still rocking, rocking Ellie in your hold. The word rolls acidic off your tongue. “Jackson.”

—

It’s Jackson you’re headed for when the first shots ring out. You’re following the faded lines of a dusty map, hoping for the best. It’s brought you to a small town, several wooden buildings lining what must have once been a comfortable main road.

It’s not even that your guard is down, either — Joel had been antsier than ever after the run in with the women, especially since Ellie’s life had been on the line. She grumbles against his insistence, but you think she’s secretly appreciative of this mangled care, this devotion that no one before has extended to her.

They still get the jump on you, though, because they’re trying to get the jump on someone else. You glean somewhere during the shootout that it’s two opposing groups, both vying for the others’ resources. One had been holed up in the last building in town, the last one Joel had to clear before giving the signal. The other had been over the hill, peering down, waiting for their moment to ambush. They had thought Joel, ransacking and searching, was their target. It probably hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t.

You hear the shots before you know any of this, before you see anything that happens, so you follow protocol and grab Ellie and duck down behind a crumbling outpost, pushing her head under your cover. You peek over to see a torrent of people flooding out of that last building, the one Joel had been headed towards. Their guns are pointed away from you, up towards the peek where the last shot echoed from. Their shouts are incoherent, and your eyes search frantically for Joel. There’s no sign of him by the building, but there is a blooming red scar on the ground where he had been standing.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and spin around, knife raised high. It’s Ellie who stops you, grabbing around your middle, and swearing under her breath when she sees who’s startled you.

Joel’s managed to sneak around the back of the houses towards you, clutching his arm to his chest. Blood pours from between his fingers. His jaw is set as solidly as stone, and he jerks his head back towards the foothill you came from. He wants you to sneak back unseen, you’re sure, but you can’t focus on anything but the red viscous that flows from him, the life force, the cellular beat, and you feel it in you, too, you have that same blood growing in you, in your body, in your stomach, eating you alive to keep itself growing —

You reach your hand towards him, and he jerks back. All you can see is your hand, frozen in the air. He and Ellie must exchange words, something, but you don’t hear, the pounding of your eardrums too raucous, the rushing of your own tremulous blood overwhelming. He turns and crouches in on himself, hunched in pain or stealth, you don’t know. He runs on sure and quiet feet back towards the trees. Ellie only goes when you start behind him, like she’s not sure you can be trusted to follow.

—

You make it about half a mile up the side of the mountain before Joel’s using the trees to keep himself upright, the heft of him only supported by the roots at your feet. It’s Ellie who ends up stopping him and sitting him down, back against a bristled trunk. You waste no time falling to your knees beside him, whipping off your pack. Your hands shake as you riffle through it for the tweezers, for bandages, for anything that might help him. If only he still carried around oxy.

You pull out a small glass bottle of amber, stomach-churning liquid. Joel finds it in himself to shoot a judgmental glance your way, before his eyes are rolling back in pain. He keeps his arm clutched to his side.

“What?” You hiss. “It’s not like I can drink it anymore, of course I still have some.”

You flip the cap off as quickly as you can and pry his good arm away from the wound. It’s still bleeding profusely, an ugly, obscured fissure in the perfect planet of his skin. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat when you pour the moonshine over the wound, but his lips stay pressed tight together. When you’ve got it as clean as you can manage, you grab the tweezers. You can see the metal still buried in his flesh plain as day. You’ll have to get it out.

“Can I help?” Ellie flutters anxiously at your side, her hands lifting and retracting with directionless adrenaline.

You nod towards your bag. “Grab the bandages, then cut them into three strips for me.”

She doesn’t waste any time, and you turn back to Joel.

His skin is sallow, and sweat crusts his brow. You reach up to wipe some away with your thumb and his eyes flutter. “I’m gonna take it out.”

He nods, breathing heavily, expression unreadable. “I know.”

You search his eyes for any kind of direction, anything that would help him that he’s too reticent to admit. When you find nothing but grim determination, you grab the strap of your pack and offer it up to his mouth. He understands, and takes it gingerly between his teeth.

Your hands won’t stop shaking as you level the tweezers with the hole in his arm, so you balance your forearm across his chest. His great, heaving breaths push you up and down. You place the two tapered points of the tweezers as best you can on either side of the bullet, having to dig through some flesh. Joel keens under you. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, over and over, a mantra that pulls you forward into the next several minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It takes several attempts, and probably a whole lot more damaged surface area than appropriate knowledge would have allowed, but you’re able to finally wiggle the bullet out of its warm home. The silver pelts to the ground and bits of Joel’s muscle, along with a whole torrent of blood, flow from the pulsing circle. Ellie’s there with the bandages and you throw your whole body weight into pressing them against his arm. His eyes roll into the back of his head, you think he might be shrieking through the fabric at his teeth. “Just have to stop the bleeding,” you tell Ellie, or Joel, or maybe the wind. “It’s okay. It’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

Eventually, it does, or at least it slows. You remove the soiled, rust-colored fabric from Joel’s arm and wrap it up with the remaining bandages, but not before pouring more of the alcohol on it. He sobs, eyes squeezed shut, and Ellie clutches on to his uninjured shoulder, her eyes wild with fear.

“No sepsis, Ellie, that’s why,” you pant, breaking off another portion of the bandages with your teeth to secure it. His breathing calms when he seems to notice Ellie pressed up against him, her trembling fingers pulling the fabric from his mouth and pressing her face to his chest. His good hand holds her to him, clinging with a strength you’re relieved to see remains.

You go to wipe your filthy hands on the grass when you notice a spare bit of Joel’s gore on your thumb. You crawl as far away from Joel and Ellie as you can manage before spilling everything in you onto the bushes. You dry heave long after your stomach is empty.

—

You lie awake several nights later. Your back throbs against the unforgiving forest floor, your blanket wrapped around the top of you instead of padding the ground. Ellie snores softly on your right side, the tender puff of her breath singing through the frosty air. You wish you didn’t begrudge her the rest, a better person wouldn’t, but no matter how tired you get you can never seem to quiet the racing of your mind when the sun goes down.

You turn onto your side to see Joel lying next to you, flat on his back, eyes wide open towards the night sky above. He looks almost comical, bundled up to his throat and arm crossed across himself in an awkward approximation of healing. He spares you a brief glance, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing before he turns his gaze back to the branches that bow above you. He’s keeping watch best he can, but his injured arm is still in a sling, which means he can’t wield the rifle properly. He’s to wake you or Ellie if anything happens. You all know you’ll probably wake in the morning curled together like a three-pod cocoon, the greater threat to your person the chill of the wilderness.

You see your breath crystalize in front of you, even in the dull silver light of the moon, but you can’t see most of his face. He turns it from you, shrouded in shadow, like he does the rest of himself. You never know what he feels, never know where you stand. He had said he didn’t blame you, but it’s hard to believe him when he clearly harbors some kind of sorrow.

You don’t know if its the faux anonymity of the dark that gives you the courage or the delirium that your baby secretes into your bloodstream, but you almost feel inspired to ask him. Instead, you open your mouth and stick your whole entire foot into its waiting orifice.

“What did you think about abortions? Before the outbreak?”

The harsh of your whispering disturbs the tranquil blanket of night. He doesn’t move, doesn’t answer. His eyes don’t even shift to indicate he’s thinking about it.

“Because,” you rush to cover your clumsy footsteps, “you were from Texas. Everyone always said — I mean, I’m sure there were people everywhere that—”

“I don’t know.” He saves you from yourself, his cool, clean baritone soothing your spiked and frayed nerves. The baby pounds its fists against your insides braying like it had heard the word you uttered. You feel sick.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No,” Joel continues, turning his head to look at you. “I mean, I don’t know because I don’t think I paid enough attention to that kind of thing. Sarah’s mom never even — considered — so I didn’t — ” His voice catches in his throat and he looks away.

You knew about Sarah, but not from him. Tess had whispered to you one putrid Boston night about his past, about Texas, about a daughter that hadn’t made it, which she only knew about from Tommy, but you’d never heard him say her name. You feel the scorching lick of shame about your heart, not having even considered what your current state would mean to him. One child, stripped away so cruelly from him, and here you were implying you’d thought about doing the same to another, but then again — maybe that’s what he’d want. To nip it in the bud, to end the pain before it could start.

You take a shuddering, bracing breath, but your voice still comes out meeker than you wish it would. “My sister told me about it. She said there was a place you could go in the QZ, some woman in the Fireflies. I don’t know how,” you admit, “but I kind of wish I did.”

“No,” he snaps, and you shrivel. “It never works out, especially not now. It would just kill you.”

You acquiesce. It makes sense. It seems too good to be true, a relic of medicinally sound days-gone-by.

“Sorry,” you say again, at a loss for anything more.

“Will you quit?” He huffs, and he surprises you, reaching out his good hand to latch onto yours. “Enough apologizin’.”

You can’t stop yourself from pulling his gloved palm even closer to you, into your chest, curling around it like you’re supposed to want to curl around this thing inside you, this parasite that eats away at you, this child you’ll evict from its warm, safe home, whether you want to or not.

He notices your reticence, turns on his side to face you, to coax your bile out of you.

“I feel sorry, though,” you whisper, blinking furiously, finding it hard to look right at him. “I don’t want it. I think I hate it, and I ought to feel sorry for that, right? That’s so awful, Joel. I’m so awful. But I’m so — I can’t —”

You shudder, and it’s like turning off. The tears you felt like crying halt their rise to the surface, and your breath slows. The blade of the hurt dulls, pricking instead of slicing, fading. It’s hard to hear him when he responds, hard to feel the gruff hand he lifts to cradle the back of your head. It only comes back into focus when he insists.

“Hey, listen to me.” He shakes you a bit, and with Herculean effort, you lift your heavy eyes to meet his. His expression is intense, pinched, and so, so beautiful.

“You’re not wrong, you’re not bad. I know this is hard. I know,” he shakes you again when your eyes start to glaze.

“Joel,” you breathe.

“Listen,” he says, fingertips pushing into the firm of your scalp, and you notice faintly that he’s abandoned his sling, that he’s pushed his pain aside to reach for you. “You’re doing better than you think you are. I see it, I see you fightin’. You’re not failing, darlin’. Not on my watch.”

You feel yourself nodding, not knowing where the internal command came from. “I know, Joel.” How do you tell him? How can he not understand that you trust him, just not yourself and your rotten, black heart?

He exhales harshly, searching your eyes for doubt, for something other than this flatness you feel settling over you. He gives in when he can’t find it, but his hand keeps rubbing your head, and you lean into it, relishing in the prick of his calluses. “Okay,” he says, then closes his mouth, opens it, shuts it again. His indecision pulls you back to the forest, back into the body you now share with another.

“What?” You venture, and his eyes alight, enthused to have found you in there.

“You ever been to Texas?” He says quickly, and he doesn’t blurt things, but maybe he did just then.

A startled laugh escapes your lips. The world shifts into focus, and the world is just his eyes, boring into yours. “Probably not. I don’t think we travelled much before the outbreak. Boston’s all I remember, besides a few summers in Maine.”

He lets out a low whistle, eyes flicking over to Ellie to make sure his sound hasn’t bothered her. She remains still, burrowed in the confines of her dreams. “Pretty different from Texas, then,” he says, and you laugh again, realer this time, easier.

“Colder,” you agree, “Even in the summer. We always had to bundle up next to the coast, even in July.”

“Nice though?” He prods into your memory with an iron poke, trying to keep you awake, keep you alive. Guide you ashore. The granite slopes wade into your mind, crashing waves and evergreen needles, a creaking Cape and damp, mossy mornings.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Really nice. Pretty quiet. Not many people, mostly just the deer and the gulls.”

His eyes flash, some emotion you can’t name, but it feels like it fits in the still blanket of space between you. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad place for a baby.”

You think of a child, toddling through the sand, tossing rocks into the water at your ankles. You think of a quiet life in a cove town, small but big enough for the three of you. You think of scribbled drawings on an antique fridge, of fatherly pride and big hands sweeping up a little girl, throwing her over his shoulder. Her lovely laugh peeling through the dunes.

You can’t help but smile. “Maybe you could have built us a cabin or something.”

He grins then, a real, full smile lighting up the planes of his face. You want to reach out and stamp it into your skin, hold this moment, suspend it in simplicity. “Big order for that. Think the invoice would be pretty intense. You plannin’ on compensating the vendors properly?”

You snort, curling his still-captured hand under your chin. “What, the baby’s not enough? Plus, your memory’s shot. Rural real estate isn’t anywhere near expensive as those city slickers liked to run you for.”

“I guess a nine month gestation is payment enough,” he says, and you feign to smack him, beaming.

“Three beds, three baths,” you continue. “One for us, one for the baby, one for visitors.”

He sucks in through his teeth. “Steeper and steeper, these costs. And it’s oceanfront, too?”

“Balsam fir,” you babble, the picture forming so seamlessly in your mind. “So it always smells clean. High ceilings — and a skylight! So we can still see the stars.”

Joel’s nodding, eyes shining. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Whatever you want. I owe ‘ya that much.”

Your heart skips a beat. You feel a giant spark smolder in your chest, so you tuck yourself into Joel’s side to share it with him. He carefully folds you into himself, stretching around the subtle curve of your abdomen that’s recently manifested.

Something unnamable pulses through you, through the bump, over to him. Before you drift off, you convince yourself you might have seen it in his eyes, too.

—

One stormy night in Boston, you’re helping Tess pack a couple of bags. The thunder cracks and you shiver, mind wandering to Katie, to where she might be sleeping that night, if she’s wet, if she’s cold. Tess hasn’t said much to you, her mind on her next move, her next haul; she’s particularly preoccupied with Joel’s absence, you think, but you don’t say anything. When her grim determination sets the precedent, there’s no getting around it. You wouldn’t want to pry, anyways.

She’s the one to finally break the silence. “He say anything to you before he left?”

You had been here at their place earlier in the day, while Joel was packing up to leave. He hadn’t said a word, had just brushed by you on his way out, your shoulder buzzing from the brief contact.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t even know where he was going.”

Tess hums, eyes flitting from the door to the radio against the wall. “Well, whatever. We can’t wait around all night. You hungry?”

Your stomach gurgles in response, carving deeper into the hollow pit of your abdomen. “Yeah,” you say, like there was ever any other answer.

Tess heats up the green beans with ham you had brought that day from your shift at the pantry. The corner of the can is dented, which is why no one cared that it had gone missing, but Katie had started rejecting the dented ones recently, saying botulism was a silent killer the Fireflies couldn’t afford to barter with. Your palms sweat. You’ve eaten so many like that, it’s probably fine. But what if this was the time it wasn’t? What if Tess ingests your poison and you’re the thing that kills her, after all she’s been through?

She doesn’t seem to care, dumping portions into two bowls and leaving the rest in the beat up tin pot on the stove. You both slurp in silence, letting the wash of sodium rush over your gums. You should have thought to add pepper, but getting up again feels too much like an inconvenience, and maybe a slight on Tess’s preparation.

You’re both jolted from complacency when Joel bangs through the front door, throwing it shut behind him and shouldering into the nearby bathroom before either of you can stand up.

“Joel?” Tess calls warily.

A moment of silence, then he responds. “Just a minute.” His voice is strained, slightly raspier than usual.

Tess immediately knows something is wrong, and you know because of the look on her face. “Fuck,” she mutters, and pitches towards the cabinets underneath the sink. She tosses you a couple of rags. “Will you go hand these to him, or get him to sit the fuck down? Where’s the disinfectant?” She starts muttering under her breath while she rummages around and you stand there uselessly, rags flowing limp between your fingers.

“Will you relax?” huffs Joel, emerging from the bathroom and moving stiffly to the kitchen table. You can’t help but gape at his complexion marred with bruising, the ugly discoloration above his eyebrow and around his jaw swelling to a reddened burst. Blood drips down his nose, around the contour of his rugged angel lips, then down onto the rotten floorboards underfoot. He sits, unable to hide a wince and a grunt, or maybe not trying. You’re still frozen.

Tess whirls by you, slipping the rags from your hands and settling next to Joel with a bottle in her hand. She wets one of the rags, then starts to dab at his face. He halfheartedly bats her hand away for a second, until she glares, then relents and lets her clean his face.

“You wanna explain yourself?” She murmurs lowly after a minute. Her voice spurs you into action. You want to help, want to stitch him together with your own sinew, dull his pain with a drug from your veins, but you don’t think he’ll take kindly to it. Tess has clearly done this before; even if she hadn’t, she’s comfortable, certain of where she stands with him. You can’t step into the space she takes up.

“Not really,” he mutters, a childish impatience squirming through him. You feel his own restlessness in your own feet; useless, you can’t just stand here. You turn to the stove, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet and doling him a portion of the sad green beans and ham. You grab the pepper, flaking a kick into his food that you’re sure he’s said he prefers, and turn to quickly set it down in front of him. Tess is done, grabs the rags to toss in the sink.

Joel seems confused. “We’re outta green beans.”

You grin at him, the flesh on your face feeling tight and out of place. “Good thing you’ve got a supplier.” You don’t say that you had stashed him a can extra even above your smuggling quota. You don’t mention it because you know he likes them better than any of the other shitty cans because they remind him of home, because they’re made down south, somewhere, because he can’t know that you know that about him, that you study him like he’s something worth knowing about. You can’t wear your love so openly like that, but you think he might see it leaking out of your porous heart anyways, because there’s a stern gratitude in his nod, in the bite he lifts to his mouth. Tess knows too, and squeezes your shoulder as she walks you out later.

“Thank you,” she says, “for doing that for him. He’ll never say it, but he’s grateful. I’m grateful. You’re a good kid.” Your heart beats faster. You can’t remember the last time someone said something like this, told you you were good, saw the care you hemorrhaged, and gave it back to you. You nod and head back to your own empty place, counting down the hours until you can see him again, until you feel like there might be a reason you’re here.

[zedif-y]

There are pros and cons to training.

The cons…. Outweigh the pros, probably, if Jimmy’s being honest. Like, really. Joel’s ruthless- the amount of times Jimmy’s been thrown to the floor, back and butt aching, only for Joel to shrug at his misery, throw a pretty smile, and say: “Up.”

Well. It’s a lot of times.

He doesn’t even know why. It’s not like Jimmy is mean about Joel’s awful cooking skills (though, he is, admittedly, getting slowly better), or about how quickly Joel’s house falls back into an absolute mess (other than a couple minor comments about how it looks like his place was ravaged by a pack of wolves), or- The point is that Jimmy is very polite, thank you. And doesn’t deserve this.

So, please, imagine his shock, awe, and horror when Joel walks through the front door, chest puffed out with pride, holds a bow up into the air, and says, “Today, you’re learning archery.”

Jimmy has half a mind to just run into the bedroom and barricade the door.

———

Jimmy did not end up barricading the bedroom door, because he had good normal reactions to minor inconveniences (and also, a little bit, because Joel didn’t own anything to barricade a door with. So instead, he’s out in the clearing where the two of them sword fight, but closer to the treeline.

“So,” Joel says, having finished his terribly lacking explanation. “Go ahead.”

Jimmy makes what is probably an absolutely pitifully horrified face at Joel, who simply shrugs and gestures to the tree he’s supposed to be trying to hit. It’s much less what Joel instructed to him to do and much more what he’s seen from the knights back home that allows Jimmy to hold the arrow and string between his fingers, and then pull back.

The arrow pops out from between his fingers and falls unceremoniously to the floor.

“Oh,” Joel says, staring down at it.

“Oh,” Jimmy echos.

“Okay,” Joel says, picking the arrow up and grabbing Jimmy’s limp hand. “Listen up.” Jimmy’s listening. “So, I cut a lil groove into the arrow back here, right?”

Jimmy inspects the back of the arrow and- oh. Yeah.

“So you put the string into that groove, and you hold it between your fingers. Your fingers are on the string.” Joel takes the bow from Jimmy and places the string in the hand he was already holding. He bites the arrow between his teeth, then curls Jimmy’s pointer, index, and ring finger around the string. He slides the arrow between his pointer and index knuckles, and then looks up at Jimmy and grins.

Jimmy realizes very suddenly that they are very close. And decides, also very suddenly, that he is not going to think about the fact that he can feel Joel’s breath on his lips- he’s not thinking about it!

“Now try it for real,” Joel says, leaning in mischievously- Which Jimmy feels normally about, in case you were wondering - and then leans back and holds the wood of the bow out expectantly.

Jimmy takes it, because he feels normal. And taking things offered to you is the normal thing to do.

He wraps his fingers around the string the way Joel had just told him to, and pulls back, back, until his arm can’t go back any further, and then lets go.

The arrow doesn’t go very far.

Jimmy slouches a little, and Joel pats his thigh reassuringly. Which Jimmy still feels normal about - Shut up!!! He’s being extremely well adjusted about this, thank you. It’s Joel’s fault for being all weird during sword practice, so now Jimmy is getting all flustered at nothing during archery. It’s absolutely, one hundred percent Joel’s fault. Obviously.

Joel goes to pick up the arrow, and Jimmy waits, definitely not pouting, with the bow hanging from his hands.

“It was… a nice first try,” Joel says with the voice of someone who is trying very hard to give a compliment that is not at all deserved.

“What happened?” Jimmy asks.

“Well, you’re all-“ Joel stands up straight, and Jimmy blinks. That tells him nothing. “You have to be, like-“ Joel cuts himself off again, turning to Jimmy and twisting him by the shoulders so that they’re facing each other, hips to the treeline. Joel looks down at their feet and kicks so that Jimmy’s feet are a little further apart.

“There we go!” Joel says, offering another grin.

They’re really close again.

Jimmy decides to not think about the way Joel’s eyes crinkle when he smiles in that certain toothy way, or the way his canines are always a little sharp and make Jimmy so curious about what they feel like (which is a normal average thought, thank you), or how really cutely long Joel’s eyelashes are, actually-

Jimmy blinks, because he’s not thinking about it.

“So?” Jimmy says.

“So, now, when you shoot, you have your arm’s length,” Joel begins, grabbing Jimmy’s hand (and also the bow, which might be important to mention) and raising it up to point at the trees. “And also you have aaaaaalllllll of this,” he adds, tracing his finger from Jimmy’s shoulder to his collarbone.

“What?” Jimmy asks, feeling a little bit distracted by the tingling feeling left behind on his chest.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Look,” he says, voice dry. “Pull the string back.”

Jimmy does as requested, putting the arrow against the string, pulling the string back, and back, and back, and- oh, and back more. Okay.

“There!” Joel cheers. “You gotta bring it all the way back to here.”

He brushes the edge of Jimmy’s lip, and Jimmy lets the arrow fly immediately at the feeling.

HE’S FEELING NORMAL, THANK YOU FOR ASKING.

The arrow doesn’t sink into the wood, but it hits it! So! Yay!

“Oh, hey, pretty good,” Joel hums, appreciative.

Jimmy hopes it’s good enough for them to be done, because he needs to lie down. Is it hot out? It feels hot out.

“We’re not done ‘till you get it through the wood though,” Joel says.

Jimmy thinks he feels his spirit leave him, honest.

“That’s fine,” Jimmy says with his mouth, because complaining has never really worked against Joel. “That’s cool. That’s good. That’s. Yeah.”

Joel raises a brow at him as he picks up the arrow. “Okay, now, this time, actually bring the arrow back to your lip,” Joel says.

“Right!” Jimmy replies, holding a hand out for the arrow.

He plants one foot behind him, knocks the arrow, pulls the string back, then makes sure his hands come right to the edge of his lip like Joel said. Then he aims….

“Your arm is shaking,” Joel notes.

Jimmy turns to look at him. “So wh-?”

Joel grabs him by the chin (which makes him feel normal feelings) and Jimmy lets go of the string. The arrow flies, but Jimmy is not at all thinking about it, or even Joel sort of yelling at him.

“Don’t look at me, idiot!!! The string is gonna slap your nose or your eye or somethin’ important and you’re gonna get hurt!!! You keep your eyes on the prize, not on- me!!!”

Some traitorous voice in Jimmy’s head notes that Joel could be considered a prize, which Jimmy quickly shuts up.

Joel’s still muttering (but with more cursing this time) when he picks up the arrow. “Don’t look at me,” Joel hisses as he passes the arrow over.

Jimmy nods, because what else is he gonna do, and then knocks the arrow again. Pulls it back, to his lip, and-

“Your arm is still shaking,” Joel says.

This time, Jimmy doesn’t turn his head. “Well, what do you want me to do about it??”

Joel sighs, and then walks around to stand behind Jimmy.

Normal feelings.

He puts both his arms up and puts his hand over Jimmy’s hand on the string and helps him pull back. His other hand is on Jimmy’s hip, steadying him. Joel’s biceps are rock solid beneath Jimmy’s arm (normal feelings) and his chest is rising and falling slowly against his back. Joel rests his head between Jimmy’s shoulder blades, and Jimmy’s breath hitches.

He can feel Joel’s breath against him when he says, “We let go together. On three.”

Jimmy doesn’t even let himself nod.

“One,” Joel starts.

“Two,” he says, shifting to look at their clasped hands (or maybe the arrow).

“Three,” he breathes against Jimmy’s ear, and Jimmy doesn’t even choose to let the arrow go- the shock of the feeling against his ear makes his hand open all on it’s own.

The arrow lodges into the tree, a fair bit above where Jimmy was aiming, and stays.

Joel steps back, apparently completely unaware of what he’s just done to Jimmy’s heart. “You did it!” Joel cheers. “Good job! You can go back inside now, I’ll clean up!”

Jimmy stumbles slowly back into the shack of a cabin in the woods, and falls into a pool on the bed.

He feels normal. So so so so normal. About everything. All of this.

Normal feelings.

L. L OH MY GOD. OH YMG OD GOHDYMDS GKLJWHKJDSGHIOWJHEGS DGOYSDJGHSDJKGHSDJKGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU DONT UDNERSTNADS. YOU DONT UDNERSTAND IVE ACTUALLY STOPPED RBEATHING THIS IS AMAZING AND EVERYONE SHOULD READ IT EVERYONE LOOK

OH MY GOODNESS

L YOU ARE LOVELY!!!!! MY GOD IM GOING TO READ THIS VOER AND OVER AND OVER WHAT THE FUCK

YOU WROTE JIMMY SO WELL!!!! FUCK!!!!! (EXPLDOES!!!!!!!)

[nonexistent-introvert]

Lost

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count : 2.1k

content: Joel giving you life advice and assurance, him being your comfort.

A/N: It's been a hella long time, this may be a little too personal of a story but I have had a rough few months. And this was a little fic i wrote to comfort myself with my fav comfort character. Finally decided to post this in hopes that it may help someone ahaha.

 “Have you ever wondered what it would be like if Ellie grew up pre-outbreak?” Joel’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Why the sudden deep question?” He questioned you back as he sipped on the steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand. You shrug, “Just a thought.”  

   Joel and you sat on his front porch, just watching the sunset over the horizon, a beautiful backdrop for Jackson’s village. He ponders your question for a while before sitting up in his chair, “You mean if she didn’t grow up during the outbreak, but before, when we didn’t have to worry about the infected?” He clarifies. You nod as you stare off into the distance, watching the various villagers go about their days. “I mean, she’s 18 this year. If life was normal she would probably be going off for college this year. Not- not going out for patrols and helping out around town, or even fighting for her life every time she’s out of Jackson.” You continue adding on. Joel hums, “College huh?” He lets out a small laugh at the thought of an education system. It had been too long since he had last heard about any form of education. “Mmm, she would probably be going off for college, like every other teenager back then, where she would figure out her life from there.” Joel hums as he imagines what it would be like in an alternate universe. 

   “Do you think she would be happier than now? If let’s say she had the chance to go to a college instead of fighting for her life.” You ask again. Joel places his mug down on the table separating the both of you. “Probably, I mean I never went to college properly but it would probably be better than fighting for your life.” You look at him as he answers, “You really think so?” Joel’s eyes widened and he let out another laugh, “Come on, who in their right mind would prefer our life now to back then?” You simply smile and laugh a little. “We only think that way because we had them to compare to, Ellie only knows life throughout the outbreak, she’s been fighting since she’s young, learning how to defend herself and survive. Even now at 18, she’s been doing the same things as she did since young, it’s a form of normalcy for her.” Joel turns his body to face you, “What’s your point exactly?” He asked, not quite understanding where you’re coming from. You meet his eye for a few moments, trying to search for the right words to voice your opinions. 

    “Becoming 18 was the scariest part of my life, and arguably the hardest part of my life too. That’s saying a lot since I literally survived 20 years in a stupid zombie apocalypse.” You laugh, and Joel gives you a judgemental look, he can list down a list of worse periods of his life compared to turning 18. 

   “Becoming 18 brought about so many changes in my life, I had to prepare myself for college, choosing a major, being in a completely new environment, new friends. I just felt so pressured and overwhelmed with everything. However for Ellie, ironically enough, she’s in a more stable environment than she has ever been. Jackson is the safest it gets around here, she can live a semblance of a normal life here, hanging out with friends, indulging in her hobbies, and doing typical teenage things. For someone go fought for their survival everyday, Jackson is practically a safe haven. Personally, I know 18-year-old me would have done anything for some semblance of stability back then.” 

  Joel just stares at you for a moment, he clears his throat upon noticing that you seemed to be getting a little emotional just thinking about it. “My life changed when I was 20, 18 wasn’t bad for me, I knew I wanted to be a musician so a music degree was the way to go but I had to drop out when Sarah’s mum got pregnant with her. I worked tirelessly to afford a wedding and eventually, our life together with Sarah, balancing college on top of multiple jobs would have killed me.” He shares with you, looking away as he realizes you’re trying to subtly wipe the tears that are forming in your eyes. “One moment I was a college student and then suddenly I was thrown out to the adulting world without any prior warnings, forced to adapt and overcome. Plus the pressure from both sides of the family regarding the pregnancy, fuck I thought I was gonna lose my mind.” Joel continues. “As much as I say that, it taught me to appreciate the small things in life, sure i have my regrets but seeing Sarah.. having Sarah turned out to be the biggest blessing of my life. No matter how much life hated me, it was easier every day when I see Sarah, she was the light in my world. It made all the shittty things I went through worth it.” He says confidently, you can see the pride shining in his eyes at the thought of Sarah. Your hands reach over to give his hand a little encouraging squeeze. Joel used to have trouble even talking about Sarah, but he had came a long way since then.  

  “I’m sorry I went on about my grandfather's story, it’s your turn.”Joel chuckles, he picks up his mug to take another sip of his coffee, you had always been a cheerful person, he was curious about how your life was at 18 for you to tear up just thinking about it. 

  You sat there silently for a few moments, then you inhaled deeply, trying to muster the courage to tell Joel. You never had the opportunity to share what you went through prior to this conversation with Joel. 

   “I didn’t have life as tough as you but I don’t know, I just felt so lost you know? I didn’t know what to do with my life.” You started, your body tensing up just at the memory of it. “I was so afraid of suffering in my chosen major if I ended up not liking it. I didn’t want to waste my time studying something I didn’t like. Then I spiraled and thought that if I chose the wrong major I would be condemned to a job or industry I hated. I couldn’t bear spending my time on a job that I didn’t like. I just felt so doomed and trapped at that point in time, I was so lost, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.” Your words started to leave your lips at a faster pace, just the memory of it evoked some overwhelming emotions inside you. Joel moved the table separating the both of you immediately and shifted his seat right next to you. He revealed his bare palm to you, a soft invitation for comfort. You placed your hand in his immediately, letting out a sigh of relief when he held your hand tightly, giving your hand a few squeezes to ground you. “It’s okay, you’re fine now.” He murmurs softly. Silence fell over the two of you as you took a few steadying breaths and he patiently waited. 

  “You didn’t talk to anyone about this? About how lost you were?” Joel questioned, a worried look on his face. His hand still holding yours. You shook your head, “Not in detail anyway, I tried asking in general. My dad caught hints of how I felt, he just kept telling me about how it's normal to feel lost and that I’ll figure it out along the way, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety.” Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, this made him wonder if Ellie or Sarah had ever felt anxious before and he had just never caught on. “I started spacing out a lot, I couldn’t remain in silence because if there wasn’t something to occupy my mind, it would go back to overthinking about the future. I knew I wasn’t in a good place, but I felt my feelings were invalid since there were people out there in worse situations than me. So, I- I just smiled a little bigger and laughed a little louder, trying to mask how I felt inside.” Joel lets out a breath at that, “No one should ever feel like their feelings are valid. Just because you’re in a better situation doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to feel that way. The feelings and pain you went through still affected you and hurt you, it was real.” Joel says firmly, a determined look in his eye. He firmly believed in that statement. You gave him a soft smile, “I just wished young me knew that, but knowing my stubborn ass, I would have continued to spiral anyways.” 

  Joel stretches his legs, letting out a grunt as he does so. “Have you ever thought of taking a gap year? To figure out what you wanted?” He suggested. “Thought about it, my dad didn’t like the idea of me wasting a year, he said the longer I waited the value of my grades loses and it would be even harder for me to get into college.” You answered. Joel let out a scoff, “It’s not a waste, it's better than you impulsively choosing a major and then regretting it for the rest of your life or even possibly destroying your mental health more trying to do well in something you found no joy in.” Yion shrugs, “At that point of time, I didn’t even want to commit myself to further studies, knowing me, I would have just settled for any job as long as it was stable even if it wasn’t the best choice financially for the long term.” 

   “There is no such thing as a stable job, every job has its own pros and cons. What matters is the fulfillment you get from it.” Joel answers. He would know, everyone around him didn’t like the idea of him becoming a musician because it took a stroke of luck to even do decently well and stand out in the industry but Joel knew for a fact that he wouldn’t enjoy anything else as much as he would being able to perform for people. It was the whole reason why he went ahead with his music degree. He would never know if it would turn out to be a choice he regretted since he had to drop out to support his family but until now, having the opportunity to study music was one of the best decisions he made. You sigh, “Well I felt like I had tunnel vision. I just saw myself on a path that led nowhere. Maybe I was in a bad place altogether too.” Joel hums in understanding. “You made it this far, even pulled through a whole apocalypse. Can’t say many people did the same. For someone who claimed they’re weak, you did make it 20 years in surviving an apocalypse. You laugh at the irony of it all, “Hm, turns out I did better when there weren’t many options. The only way to survive was to live, I didn’t have any other path to walk. The world narrowed it down for me.” Joel smirked, “Oh, how kind of them.” He replied sarcastically. 

   “So, do you think Ellie would be happier going off for college?” You asked again, linking back to the original question. Joel smiles, his eyes twinkling as the tangerine sunlight highlighted his features. “She would be happy as long as she finds the most suitable pacing for herself to move through life,” Joel concludes. “Life only seems fast-paced because everyone else moves at a fast pace but that doesn’t mean everyone can keep up. Determine your own pace and progress through at your own pace. It’s the only way you won’t feel stressed and pressured which tend to equate to you being content.” 

   Joel finishes his coffee. “Feeling lost is normal, it usually happens when you think you’re left behind and everyone is moving tenfolds faster than you. However, life was never meant to be some race to be the fastest, you could always set your own pace and continue moving forward. Being slower is better than pushing yourself past your limits and ruining yourself in the process.” 

   You look at him with admiration. Then you cleared your throat and laughed a little to lighten the tension. “Joel, that was really wise.” He looks over to you as he clears his throat too, trying to hide a small hint of a blush. “Heh, must be the old age catching up.” He murmurs. 

   You stare onward, looking at Joel and then to the various villagers of all ages living their lives in Jackson. You smile subconsciously. 

   Everything does work out in the end.