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ohforficsakelibrary · 10 months

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You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 5: Onion - Never throw onion skins and peelings onto the ground; if you do, you throw away your prosperity.

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Series Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes. Slow-ish burn.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~4.2K

Rating: Explicit 18+ / unprotected piv, further tags intentionally withheld. Minors DNI.

A/N: Joel returns a coat because skin is much warmer.

Joel is surprised that the shop is open when he makes his way back there after a late dinner.

A moth to the golden light that spills from her windows into the street.

Lennie is leaned over the counter speaking quietly to a young woman. She doesn’t even bother to angle her eyes over at him when he thuds in on heavy boots, coat draped over his arm.

“Joel, can I get you to step out for a second.”

It’s quick and firm and not a question.

And so he does until the woman breezes past him, throwing “she says you can head back in,” over her shoulder.

Lennie is herself with him again when he returns.

“Sorry about that, Joel. Flip that sign for me?” She cocks her head towards the “Open” sign as she moves to heave heavy blue curtains over the front shop windows.

Trapping the gold inside.

Joel complies, eyes lingering a fraction too long at where her yellow linen dress hikes up her thighs as she reaches for each.

She’s not wearing shoes.

“I won’t stay long,” he clears his throat and rushes to apologize. “Wanted to bring this back.”

Lennie takes the coat from his hands, digging fingers into the leather.

“Thank you,” she smiles in earnest, clutching it to her chest a moment as if to clutch a memory.

Whether it’s of him or her husband he can’t be sure.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” he murmurs softly as she replaces the coat on the mudroom rack.

“Dress ‘s nice,” he gestures loosely in her direction when she returns, thumbing at the corner of his mouth before shoving his hands in his pockets.

She throws him an incredulous look.

“You handing out compliments now, Miller?” Lennie teases before softening. “Thanks. Julie’s trying out some food scrap dye. I believe this is onion skin,” she gestures down the length of her with a flourish.

“Onion skin is your color.”

Lennie huffs a laugh and Joel searches for something else to say.

“She uh, she gonna be okay?” Joel nods at the door.

“Hmm?” She looks up from wiping the bar top, “oh, yeah, yeah she’ll be fine. Sorry to throw you out, some things are just for the girls.” She tosses him a wink.

“Well,” he rakes his fingers through silvered curls with the realization that he’s just been looming in the middle of the room as she flits around him, closing up for the night.

“I just came to return the coat, I’ll get out of your hair. You’ve seen enough ‘a me for the day.”

“You want some gin?”

“Yeah, would love some.”

Flames know more than moths give them credit for.

Getting him to stay is simple because he doesn’t want to leave.

She shuts off the set of lights directly above the bar and disappears to the right of the shop before returning with a bottle and two glasses of ice. Joel fills her glass and then his own as he sinks down onto the bench at her oak table.

“Thank you for your help last night,” she taps her glass to his before taking a sip.

“Didn’t really do much.”

“You kept me from freezing to death, so. I’d say that counts.”

He wants to dig in here but thinks better of it, pursing his lips to keep the words in.

“Thanks for teaching me. And Ellie. She couldn’t stop talking about it over dinner, she loved being able to help. Thought it was the coolest fuckin’ thing ever.” Tight lips split into a grin.

“Oh she did a great job today. A quick study, for sure.”

“You gotta check on her tonight?” Meaning the horse.

“Nah, dosed her about two ago and she should be good till morning. Looks like she’s on the other side of it, but Tommy said he’ll do one more check before he heads in and let me know.”

“Mmh,” Joel grunts in acknowledgement.

For a moment he allows himself to take her in. Her hair is half pulled up, washed and just this side of dry, streaks of silver at her temples curling over her shoulders. Free from hay. The scent of cedar and lavender heightened.

The yellow of her dress draws out the honey in her brown eyes.

“You were asking me something yesterday. When I was here to get coffee, before Ellie came in.”

She hums and smiles through a sip. And she’s nervous for a moment with the way massive chocolate eyes have gone soft. His arms are loosely crossed, elbow resting on the table. Biceps straining against brown and green flannel.

Joel’s tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.

And Lennie clears her throat.

“I wanted to ask if you’d like…”

And like a demon summoned from a place Joel desperately wishes to send him back to––Tommy knocks on the shop door.

Unfortunately, Lennie gets up to let him in.

When Tommy tosses Joel a curious smile, Joel shoots him the same shut the fuck up stare he’s been throwing at Tommy for the past 40-something years.

When Joel broke that window in the garage with a baseball.

When he snapped the door handle off his truck because he was pissed about god knows what.

When Tommy caught sixteen-year-old Joel’s girlfriend sneaking out the back door at 3am.

It only makes Tommy grin harder.

“Yeah, she’s doing good.” He answers a question that Joel hadn’t even heard her ask. “You brought her through it, Len.”

“Care to join?” She nods at the gin on the table.

If Lennie notices Joel staring daggers over his shoulder at Tommy, her face doesn’t betray it.

And if there’s anything else that Tommy has learned in the last 40-something years, it’s not to interfere when his big brother is teetering on the precipice of being down bad for a girl.

“Nah, I can’t stay. But I wanted to bring you this,” he hands her a small paper bag and it's her turn to grin.

“I’ll add it to the collection.”

“It’s well-earned,” Tommy rakes a hand through thick black hair. “Alright, well––”

His cheeky tone makes Joel bristle.

“Y’all enjoy your night.”

“Night, Tommy,” Joel growls and Tommy smirks as he shuts the door behind him.

“What's that?” He nods at the bag when she returns to her spot opposite him at the table.

Lennie fishes out a snake’s rattle and offers it to him.

“Souvenir.”

Joel takes the hard scales between his fingers, holding it up to the light as she continues.

“I have almost every one that I've managed to heal.” She points over his shoulder to a hook above the doorframe where over twenty rattles are bound together in a bunch.

“Almost?”

“Sometimes they get away,” she takes the rattle he hands back, re-wraps it in paper, and gets up to place it on the bar.

Without thought, Joel reaches out as she passes him, gently catching her wrist on the tips of his fingers.

Lennie looks down, eyes bright and wide and betraying nothing.

It’s maddening, the way she does that. Says nothing and shows nothing in the moments where Joel feels most exposed.

But she hasn’t moved to pull away.

And so he pulls her in.

Joel closes his fingers around her wrist and guides her down onto the bench, facing opposite him. The hand on her arm stays while the other lays the paper bag on the table.

A chill races up her spine.

He slides his fingers up her forearm before weaving under her curls to cup the base of her skull. Dark eyes like saucers lock. Unbreaking.

“What were you saying, Len?”

Her eyes dart down to his lips and linger before meeting his gaze again.

It’s been fifteen? Sixteen? Years since he’s had a ‘first’ anything with anyone but she doesn’t know that because he’s never said anything and he remembers enough to know he doesn’t need pretty words right now.

And he forgets his own question.

“Tell me to let go…”

“No.”

He huffs through his nose, breath from his lungs ghosting across her skin, because she’s defiant in the way she spits it, eyes still bright.

Amused.

“C’mere then,” and he encourages her forward with pressure through his fingers until she can feel gin-warm breath ghost over her lips.

It’s just a brush at first. A brush that turns into a press, a parting, a latch.

She bends until her back hits the oak for better access to his mouth and he twists into her, hand still cradling her head. Holding her firm.

Holding her here against him.

Joel pulls back a fraction and she follows, her eyes flitting up to his.

For any sign that this was his mistake.

That he’s changed his mind.

That his skin isn’t burning the way hers is.

But he’s pulled back because he’s breathless. With eyes closed and he never sees her fear.

“Joel.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” his forehead thumps hard against hers, and the angle is weird because he hadn’t thought it through, just moved like all the times before.

His chest is heaving and god how she longs to feel the press of it against her own.

“Tell me, Lennie,” he rasps with urgency.

“No.”

And she shifts because she needs him to know that she needs him, propping herself up to sit on the edge of the table as her mouth latches to his once again. He stands abruptly and the bench groans across wood planks where it gives against the backs of his knees, hungry lips and teeth seeking out her jaw. The softness of the skin just under her ear. Her throat. Her hands sweep the breadth of his shoulders to grip the collar of his shirt first, his hair next, as he fits between her legs, one arm wrapped around the small of her back, the other hand cradling her skull.

“The door,” she pants against his mouth, “Joel, the door.”

Because it’s still unlocked from Tommy’s unwanted intrusion and he kicks the bench back further. In two long strides it’s latched with the shade pulled down.

He locks eyes with her across the room, hair mussed, lips plush from his attention.

Fingers gripping the edge of the table she’s perched on.

Two strides more and he returns to her with an urgency that knocks the air from her lungs when they collide. Her hands cup his face before moving to tangle in his hair.

Something gives when he swipes his tongue over her bottom lip.

His begging for entrance granted.

He laps at her tongue and licks at her teeth, feeding her growls and getting moans in return. Lennie pushes his unbuttoned flannel off his shoulders and down to the floor, skating her palms over the heavy muscles of his arms before threading her fingers under the collar of his t-shirt to get at his skin.

And she grows impatient.

She hikes one leg up over his hip and he yanks her to the edge of the table, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other hitched up under her knee, holding her firm to grind his hips against hers. She lets out a gasp and buries her face against his neck when he presses the bulge in his jeans against her with a groan.

He rocks there against her heat, nose crushed against her temple, frantic breath rushing over her cheek.

There’s far too much fabric here but she can feel the searing heat of him and the thick, heavy line of his cock through his jeans.

“Joel,” she breathes, and he thinks for a second it’s too much too fast, but her fingers tug at his belt loops, and skim down over his ass, pulling him closer.

And god he wants to touch her, taste every inch, but right now he’s burning. Scrambling over her thighs to get to the core of her because his brain is sparking with the need to bury himself there until his blood stops simmering.

And Lennie.

Lennie’s on fire.

She shifts to help as thick fingers slide under her dress, yanking cotton panties down her thighs before one side of them snaps, Lennie uncaring as she paws at his belt then the button on his jeans and rips at the too-worn zipper, slipping it and his boxers down just far enough to allow her to take his cock in hand.

His forehead thumps against hers as he moans from deep in his chest.

“Jesus christ…” Lennie murmurs at the size of him, more to herself than anything. She just does it into his mouth. Joel huffs halfway between a laugh and a heady growl at the way her small hand slides over the thick girth of him.

Unable to still the barest rock of his hips into her fist.

Joel grabs at fabric where the hem of her dress is rucked up, tugging hard to urge her up off of it.

“Lean back, Len,” he murmurs against her mouth, pressing her backwards with his chest. His hand replaces hers around his length when she steadies herself with both palms on the table.

He leans against her with one hand on the table as the other leaves his cock to lick his fingers and reach between her thighs, tongue breaching her lips the second his fingers do.

A choked sob catches in her throat.

Joel hums low at the wetness he finds there. He spends a moment, teasing small circles against where she’s already so sensitive to his attention.

There’s no pretense here.

No romantic gestures, no pause to look into each other’s eyes.

Only his lips on her neck as he sweeps the blunt, weeping head of his cock against the slick lush of her and slides home with a strangled cry from them both.

Oh–

–god

She wraps a hand around the nape of his neck and he bends down with her. Back until her shoulder blades hit the table as she arches as best she can under the broad weight of him.

The gold chain of her necklace skitters over tendons as rings land with a dull clink against oak.

The pads of his fingers dig into the wood on either side of her head.

For a moment they just breathe each other in. Humid air delivered through open mouths.

The same molecules shared between two sets of aching lungs.

Lennie wraps her arms around the thick column of his neck that’s gone red with heat, beard prickling against her biceps, turning to a scrape when he angles his head to bite the flesh there.

Joel is a creature that needs touch, desperately.

He’s just walled himself off from it because touch gets you killed.

But now, buried deep. Weight pressed flush. Teeth sunk in.

With this body he’s wrapped in that writhes underneath him.

Her body.

Kind, warm, soft Lennie. Who brought laughter and coffee and scent back into his life again.

Lennie with her wild hair and mirth that collects in the creases at the corners of her eyes.

And Joel wants so desperately to take his time but that Joel can’t come to the phone right now because her hands have worked up under his t-shirt and her nails bite into his back, and her heel is digging into his ass encouraging him to “move, Joel. God, please move.”

He rolls his hips slowly, rocking against her without pulling out, forehead pressed to hers, hissing through clenched teeth because she’s tight around him and it has been so long.

He starts up slow, rolling strokes that drag his cock over every sensitive spot inside her, each thrust longer. Faster.

“Feel…s…so good, Len,” he pants against her mouth and she slips her tongue against his to savor the compliment’s taste. He curls his hips with every stroke because he hasn’t forgotten.

Hasn’t forgotten how to pull a woman apart from the inside out.

Joel preemptively apologizes with a nip at her chin before he rights himself, smoothing his palms down over her ribs, rucking her dress up around her waist, gaze locking a moment at where his thick cock fills her. He curls strong fingers under the wings of her hip bones with a snarl, pulling and tipping her hips to seat himself ever deeper, chasing her high.

One small hand reaches out for a wrist she can’t fully encircle, and the other slides up her chest to knead her own breast. Joel keens at the sight, fingers digging harder into the meat of her hips.

He grits his teeth, growling, pulling her against him and sending her back up the table with each thrust. He shifts her a fraction and the change in angle drags the crown of his cock over her g-spot.

Lennie gasps and presses a palm to her mouth, twisting in his hold.

“No,” Joel growls and picks up his pace. “Let me hear you, Len.” One hand leaves her hips to spread low over her stomach, thumb rubbing circles against her clit.

Her eyes are shut tight with pleasure but his are locked on her face. He watches until her back arches with a moan and her hand slips from her mouth, fingers catching on her bottom lip before searching frantically for his skin. He leans forward and she grabs a fistful of his t-shirt, pulling him back down to her.

He braces one palm against the table, teeth clacking sharp against hers as he finds her mouth again. She cradles his face between her hands until she can’t meet his kisses anymore, tipping her head to the side and offering her collarbone to his teeth.

“Joel, Joel please, yes, yes, yes—” she pants as he adjusts his hand to rub at that sensitive bundle of nerves with his middle and ring fingers.

“Joel… Joel, Jo—oh fuck,” she cries out as her muscles clamp down tight around him, back arched, fingers of one hand clutching at his curls, the other digging into the back of his shoulder as her cunt pulses around his length and it trips him up and tips him over and Joel comes hard on a string of yes-laced profanity as both hands pull on her hips, snarling like some untamed thing, pressing deep and holding there, painting her walls in hot, thick ropes of his spend.

He stays a moment, damp breath filling the shell of her ear before he shifts to lick at the dip of her throat. Lennie lets go where her hand is cramped from fingers gripped in his hair like a tether to the very earth and lets her legs slip lazily from his waist one at a time, the toes of one foot finding the edge of the bench.

She uses the leverage to give a mischievous roll of her hips and Joel moans and smiles, burying his nose in the valley of her breasts where the wrap of her dress has loosened.

She sweeps fingers down his neck under the collar of his t-shirt, humming with pleasure as Joel sucks kisses into her sternum, teeth gently sinking into the curve of her breast.

And then his head clears.

“Fuck.”

Lennie’s eyes snap open.

“Fuck, Lennie…” his voice is an octave higher.

And her heart jumps straight into her own anxieties before it preemptively drops out of her chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…fuck,” and despite his fervor he can’t catch the moan from his throat as he slips his softening cock from her warmth. “I…”

She shudders and prepares for the confession she knows must be coming. The unburdening of himself as he admits the mistake of taking her in his arms.

The we shouldn’t have done that.

The it happened too fast.

The I didn’t mean to.

I didn’t mean you.

For the tucking in of himself and his shirttails and the back of his hand wiped over his lips and the thud of boots and the slam of a door.

It all plays out behind her eyelids and the prickly promise of tears turns to a burn.

Lennie bites her lip because she refuses to let them fall.

If this is that he can’t have any more of her.

Her hands drop from his skin, eyes shut tight to hold in the last time she looked at him and thought he was beautiful.

Emptiness returns to the spaces between her ribs. The vacuum that threatens to collapse her back in on herself.

Maybe she was wrong about Joel Miller.

She reaches to pull down the hem of her dress but he’s in the way, his bare stomach pressed soft against hers and for a moment she wants to shove him off where seconds before she was desperate for the rush of his skin.

Joel rights himself, taking Lennie up with him, helping her to cover herself with her dress.

He notes how she tucks it between her thighs.

Closing herself off to him.

And he discretely reaches down to tuck himself away.

Lennie can’t meet his gaze, staring over his shoulder instead at her jars stacked on the far wall behind him before they start to swirl along with her stomach and she shuts her eyes tight again.

But she’s aware of the broad palms that skitter nervously up her spine. Of gentle fingers that stroke her sides. Of how he delicately brushes errant curls off of her forehead before he cups her face in his warm, rough hands.

Of how his body doesn’t leave hers

He hasn’t sprung away like a thing burned.

“Lennie, look at me.”

Joel presses a soft kiss to her parted lips and for a moment she hopes behind closed lids.

“Please, Len,” he whispers against her mouth and when she does his big brown eyes are full of fear.

And she reckons it must be here on her face too.

And for a moment neither one speaks because they each think that their fear is the other’s truth.

That in the blinding clarity of the afterglow he realized he didn’t want this and he’s two steps away from being out a door that he’ll never walk through again.

That he took pleasure without permission and defiled something sacred when he didn’t pull out and it means she’ll never let him have this—her—again.

And Joel speaks first because Joel’s not a man who doesn’t own up to his mistakes.

“Lennie, I couldn’t catch myself in time. What can I do, tell me, and I’ll do it. What do you need, say the word. Stay right there and let me get it for you…”

It comes out in a rush but it comes out firm. He’s heard rumors of seeds and teas and he hates that he’s never paid attention because he’s always pulled out. Always. Except of course this time with a woman he’d like to not fuck up with before it’s even started.

But Lennie does this, Lennie knows, and maybe some things are just for girls but he did it this time and he’s going to make it right.

And Lennie does the last thing in the world that Joel expects.

She laughs.

Soft and breathy on a sigh of relief at Joel’s confession and he feels her tension melt where his chest is still molded to hers.

“Joel,” her forehead knocks gently against his. “Joel, you’re fine,” she whispers, smiling as she reaches to cover his hands with her own, tipping her face to kiss into his palm.

She’s liquid with relief against him again now, arms winding around his neck, “we’re fine” tucked against the shell of his ear.

“How.”

“I promise,” it’s not an answer but she sucks her promise into his lips and the feel of her is again so divine that he doesn’t catch himself, pressing her tighter to him as though her promise could seep into his bones and make him believe.

“You’re sure.”

Perhaps some things will remain just for girls to know after all.

“I’m sure, Joel.”

He pulls back, still holding her waist in the span of his hands, voice earnest when he continues.

“You were scared, Len.”

She takes his scruffy jaw between her palms.

“Not of that, Joel. Not of that.”

He nuzzles at her nose, whispering against her mouth, “of what, Len?” Joel cradles her skull in and sucks lazily at her full bottom lip before peppering her neck with kisses. “Tell me. Let me fix it. For you.”

She leans back a hair to stare into his eyes.

“Will you come upstairs with me?”

And her voice is so small when she says it. Like she’s asking for something she’s sure he won’t give and if she says it softly enough it’ll feel like she hasn’t said it at all when he says no.

It’ll be so miniscule that they can both just forget about the whole thing.

And she braces for all of it.

Gotta get goin’.

‘S late.

Ellie will be wonderin’.

But Joel’s flushed cheeks go round with a smile and his eyes glitter with mirth looking for all the world like a kid on Christmas morning.

He breaks from her hold to sit down on the bench. Fingers make quick work of unlacing his boots, pausing after he toes one off to lay a nip at her thigh, toeing the other off in seconds.

Joel helps her off the table by the hips when he stands.

“Lead the way, Len.”

Taglist: @iamskyereads @harriedandharassed

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #YBMPF

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ohforficsake · 8 months

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Twenty Questions and Then Some - A YBMPF Miniseries

How Old Were You?

Series Summary: Joel asks a lot of questions. Shorter drabbles that don't quite fit into the main YBMPF storyline.

Pairing: Joel Miller/Herbalist!OFC Lennie. Age-appropriate age gap.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / Minors DNI

Warnings: Discussion of deceased family members.

Word Count: 780-ish

A/N: These are little drabbles that come up in the course of writing YBMPF that don't quite fit into a main chapter but do offer some insight and background on Joel and Lennie's relationship. In this one you finally find out how old Len is and learn a little bit more about Andy. This one takes place very early on. I do hope you enjoy.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

“How old were you?” Joel whispers into her hair one night, warm palm skating down her bare spine to pull against the small of her back. “When it all happened?”

Lennie snuggles down into his sheets. “You asking how old I was, or how old I am?”

“Such a fuckin lawyer,” Joel taunts.

“You should never ask a woman her age, Joel,” she teases as he props his head up in one hand.

“I didn’t, I asked about past age," he taps his index finger against her hip to punctuate each point, "at a point in time—that’s fixed.”

“Ahhh who’s the fuckin lawyer now,” she leans back to get a better look at the smile playing on his lips.

“You don’t have to—” he says in earnest.

“Twenty-seven. I was twenty-seven when the world went down. Turned twenty-eight later that year.” She presses into him, nuzzling against his neck. “And you?”

“My thirty-sixth. To the day.”

She hums, half in acknowledgment, half in gratitude.

So little of what he shares is ever done with words.

And to her surprise, they flow.

“Ellie’s not my daughter.”

He feels her tense against him before he continues.

“She’s not—I didn’t—it’s not bad.” He realizes how it sounds the moment the words are free. “We didn't just, trek across the country. She needed to get here and I was goin' here.”

"Why?" Lennie whispers.

"We—thought she had family out here. Turns out she had no one."

And it's a tinsel strand of truth bundled up in a thick coil of lies.

"She needed protecting." Joel strokes his knuckles over Lennie's thigh. "And it turns out we—ended up meaning something to each other."

Lennie’s still tense.

“She’s not blood. But she became as much my daughter as Sarah was.”

Joel feels her lean back to look at him, and his profile catches the lamplight when he angles his eyes down at her.

“Sarah was blood. My blood. I was twenty-two, stupid as all get, just starting senior year of college and my girl tells me she’s late.” He’s staring over her shoulder now, straight into that moment. “One week turns to two, four, and she wants to keep it, so I did the right thing. What I thought was the right thing," he tosses dismissively.

"Quit school, got a job, got a ring, down on one knee, church, priest, the whole thing. I did it all right.”

“And three days after Sarah was born, she left us. Never gave her a chance. Never wanted what I offered.”

Lennie’s palm flattens against his bare heart.

“Fourteen years I raised her. Loved her. We didn’t have much but she always had everything she ever wanted. She was everything. My everything.”

She can already see the end of it and she’s breaking right along with him.

“It was the same night.”

“The night the world went down.” And he uses her words but he means his.

“Some days all I can see when I close my eyes is her lying there in my arms and I can’t wash the sight of it away.”

“And some days I worry that I’m forgetting her face.”

"Joel," Lennie reaches to cradle his cheek, "a father never forgets his daughter’s face.”

“I sure hope that’s true,” he whispers against her hairline, pulling her tight to his chest again.

After a moment, “I worry that I’m forgetting Andy's laugh." falls from her lips. A whispered confession against a new lover's skin.

Joel looks down at her, brown eyes swimming.

“Tell me,” he breathes. “Tell me so it’s never forgotten.”

“His laugh was beautiful. And it was—huge,” and her face lights up with it. “This bold, clear thing that never sounded like it came from him. Not by the way he looked.”

“He was tall, so damn tall, Joel. Had this long mop of curly brown hair. Broad but sharp. Bony fucking shoulders.” He feels her smile against his neck like it was something she would tease her husband about. “Andy didn't need to be anything else. It wasn’t his place."

She sniffles softly against Joel's pulse.

"He was a poet at the heart of him. Saw magic in everything. Could’ve written you a sonnet about a single blade of grass that would forever change the color green for you."

“Andy's place was to remind you to find beauty. Even in all of this.”

“And he loved me.”

“He did well in finding a beautiful thing,” Joel kisses the crown of her head.

“I worry I’ve stopped seeing it without him. Forgotten what it means.”

And Joel slants his lips over hers, cheeks damp with tears as Lennie winds fingers in his hair.

Gripping life and breath and remembrance in her hands.

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taglist: @iamskyereads @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @anoverwhelmingdin

Please note that old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to @ohforficsake - follow me here for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #joel miller hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #ybmpf #my fic

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ohforficsakelibrary · 1 year

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You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 2: Yarrow - It draws the attention of those you most want to see.

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Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~4.1K

Rating: Eventually explicit 18+ / Minors DNI.

A/N: Joel fucks up a plant ID. Lennie feels him up and has him hang out for three.

Thanks very much to everyone who read and left some love on the first chapter of this little adventure. I honestly love these two, and I hope you all will come to as well.

Lennie’s processing comfrey for drying when Joel returns a week later. The shop is empty this time, he figures probably because they’re serving lunch down at the Mess Hall.

“Hey, Lennie,” he glances over at where she’s splitting stalks, “I brought you yarrow.”

Lennie casts her eyes up momentarily and the sight of him very nearly makes her cackle.

He’s freshly washed, having just returned from a morning patrol shift, silvered hair raked wet off of his face. Brow knitted. Mouth frozen in that scowl that he never quite realizes is perpetually plastered to his face. But he’s got a massive bouquet of white flowers clutched to his chest.

And not a moment after she looks away her eyes cut back to him.

The comfrey is hastily abandoned.

“Yeah, just, go ahead and lay that down on the table there.” Joel obliges as she wipes her hands on the edge of her apron and quickly swings around the bar. “How long ago did you pick those?”

“Uh, dunno, an hour, hour and a half maybe, sorry, I know they wilted a bit…”

She considers his face carefully before glancing at up the clock that hangs above the door as she closes the distance between them. “Did you eat lunch before or after you picked those?”

“Haven’t eaten lunch yet.” Suddenly she’s in his space, toe to toe. Immediately his back goes rigid.

“Ok, good,” she starts calmly before grabbing his face in her hands to hold him in place, staring intently into big brown eyes that have flown wide.

And now he’s been struck stupid.

“And you didn’t eat any part of those plants?”

“What? No.”

Her hands are quick yet determined as she lays the back of one across his forehead for a moment. He’d daresay he’s amused.

Bringing a woman flowers seems to go much farther these days.

“Open your mouth.” It’s a command. He does and she stands on tiptoes.

He finds himself enough to very nearly reach up to stop her the second she thumbs his bottom lip to get a better look.

And he would have. If he wasn’t starved.

The kind of hungry you don’t realize until the scent of food wafts in on a breeze.

“Did you happen to touch your face at all after you picked them? Rub your eyes, your nose, touch your mouth?”

“Uh, no? I dunno.”

“Are your eyes burning? Numb?”

“No.”

“Nose?”

“No.”

“Mouth?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Shortness of breath?” Her left hand is on his neck now, eyes on the clock, fingers gently applying pressure and readjusting until she finds his pulse and he swallows hard.

You mean not from this? What even is this?

His mouth drops open and “no” falls out. In response to her question, nothing else.

Christ, Miller. Like a fuckin sixteen year old.

“Sorry, what are you…” He finally finds his words, but she makes a soft noise to shush him.

A few seconds later “good” comes out on a breath that’s meant more for herself than for him.

“Do you feel nauseous?” Her small hands take both of his by wrists she can’t fully encircle, carefully poring over his palms.

“No.”

"And you haven't thrown up."

"No."

“Headache?”

“No.”

The backs of his hands fall under her scrutiny before she carefully examines his fingers.

“Sorry, may I?” She points at his chest and then at her ear. He nods before the thought finishes processing and in an instant she’s popped another button on his flannel and pressed her ear against his naked heart.

“You feel dizzy?” Her head is still on his chest and he realizes that his hands are poised in space, hovering just above her shoulders.

Yup.

“No.”

“You’re more than likely going to be fine.”

The fuck does that mean. Good sense is back.

“Lennie, what is going on.” He takes a step, hands held up before his chest in surrender. “Is this from that plant? You didn’t tell me yarrow was dangerous.”

“It’s not,” she finally vacates his space but instead of relief he registers loss of warmth.

“It’s actually incredibly safe outside of pregnancy and it’s one of the few things I can freely recommend for children, but you didn’t bring me yarrow.” She’s over at her bookshelf now, scanning quickly before slipping a text out of line.

“You brought me poison hemlock.”

Means you’re a fuckin’ idiot.

He glances down at the flowers. “What.”

“Poison hemlock,” she returns to him and perches on the edge of the table, feet on the bench. “Of Socrates fame. Take a seat.” He obeys her, mostly because he’s in a daze. “Hey, look at me.” He does. “It’s actually an incredibly honest mistake. You got any plans in the next three?”

“What the fuck Lennie, did I just…” big brown eyes are wide and he goes to scrub a hand down his face.

“Don’t touch your face,” she’s fast and grabs his elbow before he can make contact. “And no, you didn’t.” She stops meets his stare. “You’re more than likely going to be fine.”

“More than likely,” he nearly mocks, “how the fuck do you know? I thought you couldn’t touch that stuff.”

I know because its my fucking job to know, don’t test me, Miller.

“That’s a myth, all but the most sensitive people won’t have a reaction to just touching it and even then it’s just contact dermatitis, it has to get into your blood to do any harm.” She lets loose his arm as her words come fast and easy. “You didn’t eat it, so we’re good there, and you don’t have any fresh cuts on your hands, but you’re not sure if you touched your nose, mouth, or eyes, so that’s an open question.” She’s gone back to flipping pages, searching for something as she rattles this off. “Your pulse is strong, pupils a normal size, your heart is in normal rhythm, body temperature seems normal if a little warm, but we’re…”

“I run warm.” He’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify in this moment of all things.

“…concerned about cold here.” She finishes simultaneously. “You’re not sweating or salivating, no dizziness, nausea, or vomiting, no tremors, and finally, here we go.”

She appears to have found what she’s looking for.

“You’re staying here for the next three hours though.”

Ah. A finally a fuckin’ unit.

“You said I’m fine.”

“Symptoms can appear anywhere from 30 minutes to three hours after exposure.” Lennie reads out and clamps the book shut with one hand. “You haven’t touched your face since you’ve been in here, meaning the absolute last time any sap and therefore toxin could have made it into your system is right before you walked in that door. I figure give it three hours max for you to be completely in the clear.” She drops the book behind her on the table.

Somehow, he actually does follow her math.

“And if I do show symptoms…I assume you have an antidote?” “There is no antidote.” Lennie leans over her knees so her face is level with his. “It works by paralyzing your neuro-musculatory junctions…”

The dazed look is back.

“Where your nerves control your muscles,” she rephrases, “and causes paralysis, which is a problem when it comes to, you know, breathing. But that’s not going to happen.”

Lennie springs from the table and moves behind the bar.

“Me not being able to breathe is not going to happen, but I have to stay here for three hours and you have no antidote.” He’s not quite yelling but he’s not calm either.

“There is no antidote, and don’t touch YOUR FUCKING FACE,” she is though, seeing that he’s nearly gone to rub his eyes in frustration. “If you start to show any symptoms at all, I will notice, and I can get you over to Jane at the hospital sooner rather than later. She can treat the symptoms until it processes out of your system.” She drops down, disappearing for an instant before popping back up and dropping a pair of black rubber gloves on the bar top.

“I need your knife.” Lennie crosses the distance to stand in front of him, hand outstretched. Joel weakly reaches back for the pocket knife he used to cut the blooms.

She tosses it on the table next to the flowers.

“Come,” Lennie takes both of his hands in hers and he allows himself to be led to the sink. He’s not in shock, not by a long shot, but he’s not all here right now either.

These past few months here in Jackson have been the first time in the last twenty years that he didn’t want to. You know.

He has a house. His brother back. He isn’t tossing fucking bodies onto a burn pile.

He has Ellie.

And now here he might have actually gone and done it to himself. Finally.

Unless he missed again.

The water runs cool and then warm against his skin before Lennie soaps up her own hands and massages the suds into his skin, idly taking note that his hands are massive. Strong square palms and thick fingers.

Earth hands.

She continues in silence for a full minute before reaching for a nail brush. It takes him another minute of her scrubbing before he speaks.

“I know how to wash my hands, Lennie.”

“Well, that’s good,” she guides them under the water until they run clean and then some. “Your face now.”

Joel looks down at her with an expression she doesn’t bother to unpack. Instead she holds the bar of soap up between them and he takes it.

“Wash everything around your eyes and mouth first, keep ‘em shut tight.” Lennie calls over her shoulder as she heads back to the bar top. “Rinse for 30, repeat that once, and then gently take the soap over your eyes and mouth. Scrub that beard. And your neck too.”

She slips the rubber gloves on and grabs the Reaper’s bouquet that’s resting on the table. “Keep going till I get back,” she calls, passing him on her way through the door to the left. He hears the creaking of something heavy and the click of a screen door and two full wash cycles later hears the sequence in reverse.

“You should be good now,” moments later a gentle hand rests on his back and a washcloth is pressed into his palm before she turns the water off. Joel dries his face first, then his hands and finally opens his eyes as he steps back from the sink. All he can manage right now is to slump down at the table. Face in his hands.

Behind him, Lennie is at the bar, pouring soap into a metal bowl. She fills it with hot water and drops it off near him, slipping the rubber gloves on again. She washes the table carefully, starting with areas she knows are clean, before moving in to where he was sitting before, anywhere he could have touched with sap-sticky hands. She’s so thorough that she wipes the cover of whatever text she was flipping through too.

Joel watches her while she works.

He’s not really sure what else to do.

Faded jeans are rolled up at the cuffs and at some point she had taken off her sweatshirt. Underneath she’s wearing a yellow t-shirt upon which Smokey the Bear urges him to help prevent forest fires.

What if you are a fucking forest fire?

He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before but her left arm is adorned in a black and grey sleeve of foliage and bones.

She has the arms of someone used to throwing heavy stuff around all day. He likes that about her.

What a fucking thought process.

He’s hungry and delusional from nearly having poisoned himself, he figures. Or potentially having lightly poisoned himself.

“Elbows up,” she says gently from across heavy oak. She’s quick with the cloth and allows him to get back to sulking in no time at all.

Lennie spends at least five minutes on the spot where the flowers were before his knife is flipped open and dropped into the soapy water. She’s careful to clean that spot too. She takes the whole bowl to the sink and deposits it into the basin to soak before dropping the rubber gloves into the bowl too. Lennie then moves to the front of the shop, flips the “Open” sign to “Closed” and pulls dark blue curtains over the front windows.

“Alright,” she turns around, resting her hands on her hips before pointing at him. He has no idea what she means, but knows it wasn’t meant for him. The kettle is filled and placed on the hot plate and she disappears again, this time through a door to the right, returning in five with a fork and a plate of thickly sliced ham, cheese, bread, and salad greens dressed lightly in oil.

“Sorry it’s not very cohesive, but it’s the quickest thing I have.”

“It’s fine,” Joel tears into the ham, honey-sweetness on his tongue reminding him of his manners.

“Thank you.”

Ten minutes later there’s weird coffee in front of him and he could not be more grateful. She finally comes to rest opposite him with her own cup, and rakes a hand through her hair as he shoves a bite of crumbly bread into his mouth.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” he says as he swallows.

“Don’t apologize, Joel. It’s an honest mistake. And I probably should have made it more clear.”

A few moments pass in silence before he mumbles, “a thousand leaves.”

“What’s that?”

“You said the leaves were the key. Soft and lacy. Thousand leaves.” He downs the last bite of greens, staring idly at a knot in the wood. “The leaves were different, that thing had carrot leaves.”

“It’s a member of the same family, yeah. Which is actually how most poisonings happen,” she takes another sip from her mug and rests a cheek in her hand. “Good observation.”

“What did you do with them?” He asks between bites of cheese.

“They’re in a lock box out back until I can process them.”

“Process?”

“Even poison plants have their uses.”

He’s curious but not ready to know.

“So what now?” He finally meets her eyes.

“Well, when you’re finished there I’m going to check you again for symptoms, and I’ll keep doing that every thirty until we’re clear.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you want Joel.” She stands and makes her way back to the bar. “You can read a book, tell me your life story, take a nap, sit there and scowl.”

At this, he throws a scowl back over his shoulder at her.

And for the first time today she grins.

She runs through her checks again after he’s through, and much to her surprise, he opts to help her finish processing the comfrey, portioning and binding bundles for drying. After that he pulls a book from the shelf and takes a seat at the table facing her as she sets to work straining tinctures.

Lennie smirks when she sees what he’s chosen. The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien.

_____

They continue like this, in silence save for the clinking of mason jars and the metallic scrape of lids, speaking only for her to run her checks.

And yet discomfort remains at bay.

She catches him occasionally, dark eyes angled at her up over Flann’s pages. She can’t see his mouth but from the knit of his brow she knows the scowl is there. He doesn’t dwell long each time, but each time he dwells longer than the last.

He likes how she looks with her wild curls pulled back. Likes the rebellion of the errant ones at the nape of her neck. She isn’t a frail thing, whether from conscious nurturing of strength or what life has seen fit to deal. And yet the promise of softness in all the right places shows through baggy denim. Under the yellow cotton of her shirt. That gold against tawny skin. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

A sip of water helps.

Lennie isn’t innocent here. She’s just sneakier. His hair has dried by now, accentuating the silver streaks in ashen brown. The way his massive hands make the novel look small. It’s impossible not to notice the way brown and red flannel clings to his shoulders, stretching around his biceps when he brings the glass of water to his lips.

Those lips. Far more plush than they have any right to be.

Man walks in with big hands and broad shoulders and you’re fuckin’ nineteen again.

Just the hands will do these days, apparently.

She takes it out on chicory root with a cleaver.

_____

About ten minutes after a third round of checks Joel pipes up again.

“Hey uh, you got a bathroom?” His bladder is protesting the coffee. Tea. Whatever the fuck that thing is, and the glass of water that she’s been keeping full for him.

Lennie is a good host even in a shit situation.

“Yup,” he watches as she looks up from where she’s splitting roots of god knows what and points her cleaver at the woodstove in the corner. “Left and then another left.”

He follows her instructions, seeing that there’s a mudroom to the right after the first left. He can’t help but take quick stock. A door to the back garden. Jackets for all seasons hung on cast iron hooks. An array of practical shoes lined up neatly in a tray. He idly notices the pair of rain boots far larger than its companions before he slips into the tiny wood-paneled bathroom.

“Soap you’ve got in there smells nice.” This when he returns.

She smirks as he walks back in, amused that this broad, rugged thing likes scented soap.

“Oh so it does know how to wash its hands.” She grins up at him before answering in earnest. “Thanks. Think I’ve got…ponderosa? In there?” She reaches out a hand.

It takes him a moment to realize she’s asking for his hand to confirm. He obliges, and a corner of his mouth twitches in amusement when she takes a quick whiff.

“Ponderosa. You want a bar? Give me a sec.”

She wipes her hands on her apron and turns behind her where small wooden crates are stacked nearest the window. She shuffles through a few boxes before selecting a bar for him.

“I don’t have anything to trade.”

“What are you talking about, you brought me poison flowers. Those are my favorite.” She returns to her chopping with a smile.

He very nearly laughs. Instead, he returns to his seat and his book, absently pressing the bar of soap to his nose as he reads.

It’s funny how when everything went away, smells went with them. The good ones at least. Replaced with decay and dry rot. Gunpowder and shitty whiskey. Burning bodies. You stop paying attention.

To register is to be repulsed.

It apparently takes scented soap to make you want to inhale again. Warm vanilla without sticky sweetness. Earth. Barely there lavender.

“How’d you do this?”

“Uhm,” she takes a moment to simplify down to component parts. “Soap is some kind of fat and a base. A few years ago I started using whatever was left over from the prior year’s infused oils and tallow as the fat and some janky steam distilling equipment to eek out a bit of essential oil from fresh plants to boost the scent. It takes a lot of material and it’s not a particularly productive process but I figure everyone deserves a little frivolity. Something normal like before.”

“But there’s benefit to the plants being in there?” He still has the bar idly pressed up under his nose in a way that makes something jump in the pit of Lennie's stomach.

“Great question, there’s more benefit to the infused fat than the essential oil, but the essential oils carry the smell.”

“Hmm.”

Is he learning?

He finally pops the bar into the front pocket of his flannel.

Thank god flits across her mind.

The way that pleasure registered on his face every time he took a whiff didn’t go unnoticed.

It sets something long-dormant to churning.

Twenty minutes later he says, “I think it’s time for you to feel me up again.”

She snorts and glances at the clock seeing that it is indeed.

Paying attention and learning. What a guy.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re beginning to enjoy this, Joel.”

She washes her hands and he stands up, smoothing the front of his shirt for a reason he can’t explain.

“Any shortness of breath?” Lennie starts, taking his face in her hands, studying his eyes in the late afternoon light. She can see easily that his pupils are a completely normal size, but now she notes softness in the brown. A subtle shade of gratitude.

She doesn’t bother with his mouth this time, leaving lips to tingle in unfulfilled anticipation.

She sees something flit across his eyes for a moment but doesn’t dwell. Instead, her fingers brush over his stubble to fit under his jaw. She’s learned by now that his pulse jumps just behind the bare patches in his beard. A handy shortcut that a part of her perhaps didn’t actually ask for.

Lennie breaks his stare to hold the clock’s gaze, and for a few seconds, Joel takes the opportunity to really look at her. He had noticed a round ago that her brown eyes are flecked with gold. But he can’t for his life figure out how old she is. Long strands of aggregated silver curl from her widow’s peak and temples. Faint lines in the corners of her eyes belie that perhaps at least she was able to find some joy in this hell.

Her mouth was impossible not to notice, but up close it strikes him that her lips aren’t chapped. They look—soft.

Soft? An adjective that fell to the wayside.

“Alright, good,” she breaks his reverie. “A little faster, but still within a completely normal range.” She steps back instead of leaning in.

“You’re not gonna listen?” He points loosely at his chest.

“Do feel out of breath?”

Gasping.

“No.”

“Like it’s skipping?”

Fuckin hopscotch.

“No.”

“Racing?”

A mile a minute.

“No.”

“Do you want me to?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes it as a “no.”

She returns to the bar top and her roots and Joel sits back down and finds his last-read page.

_____

The next thing he remembers is the hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” He sniffs as his eyes pop open. The shop is filled with pink light.

“You’re free to go.”

“It’s three hours?”

“It’s a little over four, but you looked like you could use the rest. You’ve been asleep for about two. It’s getting to dinner time and I figured Ellie would be looking for you.”

He scrubs his eyes with the heels of his palms before lightly scratching his beard.

“You didn’t wake me up to check.”

“I checked your breathing every fifteen until you started snoring, so I just listened for any change.” She slips him a scrap of paper on which is scribbled a few time entries and numbers next to them ranging from twelve to fourteen.

“Every fifteen?”

He lets it go without units.

“Well, you weren’t awake to tell me if anything started feeling off.”

“You really do care," he snarks.

“I mean, I try.” Lennie smiles and rakes a hand through curls that she’s freed from the scrap of fabric she had tied them with.

He stares at her for a second, hair wild from what she’s just done. Her sweatshirt is on again and she’s got her hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should head out.” Not because of the time, though. He stands and tentatively stretches his back. “Can I borrow this?” Joel asks, holding the book up.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You comin’ to Mess?” He slips his clean knife into his back pocket.

“I’ve actually got some leftovers from a rabbit I trapped the other day, so.”

“Yeah. Yeah ok,” Joel starts for the door and turns back. “Hey, thank you, Lennie. For today.”

He sticks out his hand again and it makes her want to scream.

He does that. His reserve. Makes her want to scream.

“Yeah, of course,” she gives it a firm shake instead. “Anytime you uh, feel like you’re dying. Hit me up.” She grins.

He returns it. With teeth.

“Have a good night, Joel.”

“Goodnight, Lennie.”

She latches the door behind him and presses her back against it before sliding down to the floor.

Heavy breath hisses from her lungs.

“Not what I needed.”

Exactly what she needed.

“Fuck.”

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #YBMPF

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ohforficsakelibrary · 11 months

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 3: Lettuce - If you wish to preserve yourself against temptations of the flesh, eat lettuce.

prev / series masterlist / masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~1.2K

Rating: Explicit 18+ / masturbation (m). Minors DNI.

A/N: Something awakens for the first time in years, burning under Joel's skin. He takes matters into his own hands. His massive, gorgeous hands.

This is a shorter one, but a little spicy. A little sticky. A little messy. Because you guys deserve it. And let's be honest, he does too.

Three weeks later…

Joel feels like he’s dying.

He woke with a start right around 3am, when everything just became too—much.

The sound of wind whipping through the valley. The way it causes the branches of the spruce tree outside to drag its needles across the roof.

The way it’s too fuckin' hot, even in just the boxer briefs.

Static between his ears that turns to a roar.

The dreams.

Chaos. Screaming. A gunshot.

Only ever one gunshot.

He’s face-down, right arm hooked around a pillow. Mountain breeze hisses through the open window and rustles the tufts of hair that aren’t sweat-slicked down to his scalp or plastered to the back of his neck.

The way it brushes across his back sends a shudder through him.

He’s not used to air on his bare skin after sleeping outside for a year. Being bundled in everything you own, borrowed, stole, plus a sleeping bag if you were lucky?

It numbs you to the sensation of anything on your skin.

But here, now, in the safety of a home, in a community guarded by high walls, he feels.

But everything feels wrong.

Worn cotton sheets are too soft, the tired dusty mattress is too soft, down pillows are too fuckin soft.

His cock is too fuckin' hard.

It has plagued him these last few weeks.

Inconvenient half-interest at inopportune moments.

Out on patrol when his mind is free to wander.

Down at the Mess Hall when Lennie throws him a smile.

In the shower when his shoulders finally relax under the spray of heated water.

Insistently reminding him of desire's presence.

He supposes its the not having to fight for his life that's done it.

Cleared dust from forgotten corners on the spectrum of human emotion.

Joel groans into the pillow, canting his hips into the mattress, aching for some kind of friction.

He can’t remember the last time he’s done this.

He’s been about survival for so long.

Stay alive.

Keep Ellie alive.

Try not to lose yourself.

Go through the motions. One foot in front of the other.

And so this feels frivolous.

Being this out of his mind is a luxury.

And so he luxuriates.

He rolls his hips again, reveling in the pressure as he hikes a knee up to press more of his cock against the bed. He clutches the pillow with both fists, open-mouthed against matted feathers.

Rutting against the sheets.

One hand reaches up to grip the top of the mattress and it’s not long before the burn of fabric turns unpleasant.

Joel snakes his other hand under his stomach, reaching beneath grey cotton to take his hard length in a fist before flipping over onto his back and kicking out of his boxers entirely.

He squeezes the reddened, desperate tip, catching the eager drops that collect there, and slides thick fingers down to the base of him.

He presses firm with his thumb and index finger. Right where it positively aches.

Pressure that tears a moan from his throat.

Fuck.

Ellie is in the next room and unlike him, has excellent hearing in both ears.

The thought of it is enough to nearly kill his hard-on entirely.

He takes a few harsh breaths and strains his ears to any sign of her stirring. A good two minutes of staring at the ceiling pass without anything from the next room.

His cock is still attentive when he turns his attention back, twitching in time with the pulse of blood in his veins.

Joel sucks in a breath and continues, slowly at first, thumb swiping over the leaking head, fingers teasing the underside just there, sliding his foreskin up over and down, again, again, again.

It brings him close, but not close enough.

The fingers of his other hand skitter over heated skin, through the brush of hair below his navel, chasing the flush up his chest to skim over a nipple, dwelling here before an image flashes across his mind.

Lennie.

He imagines a curtain of dark curls fallen across a face open-mouthed with pleasure. He imagines her small, strong hands braced against his chest. The column of her neck strained above him.

Full bottom lip caught on teeth.

That there does the trick.

His hips buck faster up into his fist, slick sounds beginning to drown out the wind.

Joel wishes he could hear the sounds she’d make.

Soft and breathless before pleasure rips discretion from her.

Before he does.

He needs to feel her cunt tighten around him, but in its absence his hand will have to do.

Joel turns his head to the side to muffle a moan in the pillow, pumping frantically before his rhythm starts to stutter.

A strangled grunt tears from his throat and his teeth sink into the pillow as thick ropes of come paint his stomach.

When he finds himself again through sharp lungfuls of cold air, he hazily notes what he’s done.

Notes just how much there is.

How much he needed this.

His chest heaves, fist coated, stomach covered in come that pools in his belly button. He sweeps a finger through it and desperately tries to conjure Lennie’s presence.

He imagines dipping white-tipped fingers into her mouth. Imagines her throaty hum of approval.

Have some fuckin sense, Miller.

“Fuck,” he pants into the night, grabbing his boxers to mop up his mess before tossing them on the floor and flipping back over onto his stomach, hissing at the friction of cotton on his over-sensitive cock.

You’re fucked.

And yet. He still wants more.

_____

Ellie’s already up by the time he makes his way downstairs, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the kitchen.

Normal smells.

He mumbles a good mornin’ and pulls two plates down from the cupboard because he knows she always has trouble reaching them and never asks for help.

If they were blood he’d say the apple didn’t fall far.

He fills the kettle and reaches over her to appropriate a back burner. She’s quiet this morning but not awkwardly so.

He hates it.

He has no idea what, if anything, she heard. He has no idea if she had heard whether she’d try to talk over the awkwardness or pretend it never happened.

And so Joel searches her face for anything—off.

Nothing.

“How about that wind, huh? Tree branches scrapin’ across the roof the whole night.” He probes between bites of a stolen strip of bacon.

“Didn’t hear it. I was out last night. Mr. Hayes had me chasing pigs all over the fucking farm yesterday.”

“Hence the bacon this morning?”

A cheeky smile splits her face.

Joel fixes his fake coffee and grabs silverware as Ellie deposits full plates on the table.

“Bacon, eggs, and…salad.”

“What? We’ve had lettuce in the fridge for a few days, can’t have it going to waste. I fuckin’ grew that, man.”

At this he smiles and takes a bite.

“You did good, kid.”

She hadn’t heard a thing.

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

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ohforficsakelibrary · 11 months

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You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 4: Echinacea - Echinacea was used by American Indians* as an offering to spirits to ensure and strengthen spells.

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Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~6.9K

Rating: Explicit 18+ overall, no smut in this part, but if you're a fan of the one sleeping bag trope you may enjoy this. Minors DNI.

A/N: Of snake bites and chilly nights and subconsciously cradling someone in your sleep.

I know next to nothing about horses and my apologies if anything is off on that front. Again, get thee to a doctor or a vet and don't rely on fanfiction you read one time. You live in a world with antivenom.

I think I've messed with the timeline of Tommy's arrival in Jackson a bit, so your squinting and ignoring that is much appreciated.

*Cunningham's original terminology, not mine

Joel decides to swing by the shop in the late afternoon when he's back from patrol.

He has to return the book he finished, he needs more coffee, and he found real yarrow today to trade for it. He’s sure this time.

You know. Lest anyone think he's here because he spilled all over himself thinking of her last night.

“Hey, Joel,” Lennie calls from where she’s bent down to better see the level of liquid she’s pouring into a brown dropper bottle. Mrs. Spencer stands at the bar and throws a wave at him over her shoulder that he politely returns as he takes a seat at the large table.

Lennie mixes two more liquids into the jar and turns it over.

“Four to five drops, four times a day. Throw it in a glass of water if the taste is too strong. If he’s not feeling any better in three to four days, swing back and I’ll see what I can do.”

Mrs. Spencer accepts and passes over three beeswax taper candles in return before her absence sees the two of them alone in the shop again.

Joel crosses the floor with flowers and book in hand as Lennie caps and returns jars to the shelf behind her.

“I got it right this time,” he says, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“So you did,” she grins.

“But I will need some more of your coffee in return.” He sets his empty jar in front of her.

“Done.”

She makes quick work of refilling the jar. Too quick.

Because now they’re done here and his brain is dancing through excuses to stay.

“Hey, Joel?”

He looks up from where he’s been watching her fingers bind yarrow with twine.

“Yeah, Lennie?”

“Would you consider, maybe, ha…”

Ellie bursts through the front door, breathless.

“Lennie, Tommy’s horse got bit, they need you.” She sucks in gasps of air. An emissary sent to deliver bad news.

They both tense.

“Where, Ellie?” Lennie finds her wits before Joel.

“Out by…”

“No, where on her did she get bit?”

“I dunno exactly…”

“Face or legs.”

“Face, from the sound of it.”

“Ah shit.” Lennie drops behind the bar, filling the air with the clank of clattering metal and scraping wood. “How far behind you are they?”

“Maybe five minutes.”

“Ellie, is Tommy ok?” Joel pipes up. He’s not sure what exactly did the biting, but he has an idea. Rattlers aren’t uncommon around these parts.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” she has her hands on her knees now.

Lennie reappears and swings around the bar, two clear tubes in her hand.

“Ellie, remember that plant I showed you? Broad leaves, grows in a rosette?”

“Plantain, yeah.”

“I need you to gather as much of it as you can,” she tosses a canvas bag to Ellie, “the biggest leaves you can find, rip the whole thing out if you have to. Do that now, go.”

Immediately, Ellie is out the door.

“Joel, grab me a pint jar and lid off that back shelf,” she cocks her head towards the sink as she pulls a massive half-gallon mason jar from a shelf above her head.

“I got it,” Joel picks up on her train of thought and moves behind the bar to decant the brown liquid into the smaller jar while she grabs scraps of cloth and a spoon and stuffs them into the pockets of her jeans.

There’s a commotion outside and she grabs the tubes. Joel grabs the jar and follows her out the door.

“Where’d she get bit, Tommy,” Lennie asks, taking the horse’s reins from him. It’s redundant, she can see the swelling already beginning on Gloria’s muzzle.

“Her nose, we were out at the dam on foot, had the horses tied up, and we think it took her by surprise in the grass.”

“You bring it?”

“In my bag, she stomped it real good.”

“Alright, you know what I’m gonna ask for when this is over.”

“Get my girl through and it’s all yours.”

“You okay?” Joel nods at Tommy.

“Yeah, man.”

Tommy is concerned, but calm. Something about it tugs at Joel but he doesn’t have time to register why.

The rest of the patrol team has closed in now and townspeople are beginning to filter into the street, whispers of what happened pinging through the crowd. Maria emerges from the laundromat, baby strapped to her chest, and comes to stand near them.

Lennie absently hands off the tubes to Joel.

“Okay, okay, hey sweet girl,” she coos as the horse flares its nostrils in an attempt to suck in breath. She immediately starts unbuckling the bridle and hands it to whoever takes it, Tommy this time. “It’s okay momma, I’ve got you.” She presses her forehead to the white star between the horse’s eyes and pauses for a moment.

Joel swears Gloria relaxes and presses her head back against Lennie.

“Ok, G, this is gonna suck, but I have to put these tubes in your nose, ok? We have to make sure you can breathe, sweet girl. Joel, let me get those,” Lennie gestures to the tubes.

“Tommy, Joel, hold her steady, yeah? She goes to strike, back away. She goes to rear, let her. She’s gonna toss her head a bit, that’s fine, let her do what she needs to.” Lennie holds one tube between her teeth and rubs her free hand under Gloria’s chin.

Joel hands the jar of liquid to Maria and positions himself against Gloria’s left shoulder, one hand in her mane, the other around the front of her neck, while Tommy moves around the opposite side to mirror his pose, grabbing the saddle horn. Lennie stands first on Joel’s side, gently passing her fingers over Gloria’s right nostril, telegraphing what she’s about to do.

“On three, boys,” it’s muffled through the tube in her mouth as she braces one leg behind the other. “One, two, three.”

Lennie passes one tube cleanly up Gloria’s right nostril before the horse has time to react. All three of them manage to get clear while she tosses and shakes her head at the intrusion.

“Okay, one more.” They each take their positions again and Lennie moves to stand on Tommy’s side to repeat the process. Everyone manages to get clear before Gloria strikes and stamps as she shakes her head.

“More sensitive on that side, hold on to her,” Lennie nods at Tommy who again grabs the saddle horn. She’s left an inch and a half of tubing protruding from each nostril and Gloria snorts a few times before her breathing evens out.

“I got it!” Ellie comes running out from behind the laundromat and straight to Lennie, thrusting the canvas bag into her hands.

“This is perfect, Ellie, thank you,” she rips off a handful of leaves and shoves them into her mouth. “Find me two or three of the biggest single leaves you can out of that,” she mumbles through a full mouth and hands the bag back over. “Joel, soak two strips of that cloth in tincture for me.” He takes the wad of linen from Lennie and the jar from Maria and returns soaked fabric.

“Hold her, Joel,” she tips her chin towards the horse and Ellie takes the contents of his hands before Joel again presses his chest to the horse’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around her neck.

Lennie squeezes liquid from one cloth into the horse’s mouth and gestures to Ellie for leaves, which she arranges on the wrung out cloth. She spits into the leaves and squeezes the fresh cloth into the poultice.

“Alright, sweet girl.” Lennie gingerly wipes the bite down before pressing the poultice against it.

Gloria again relaxes into her hand.

Maria makes eye contact with Tommy as the baby starts to fuss. He nods and Maria slips away.

“Okay, sweet girl. Okay. Let’s get her back to the stable.” She keeps her hand over the poultice as she and Tommy guide the horse back home, Joel and Ellie following close behind.

When she’s settled back into her stall, Lennie applies more tincture to the cloth to keep the poultice in place.

“I’ll have to re-dose her every hour and refresh the poultice at about the same. It’ll be a long night, but she’ll be just fine, Tommy.” Lennie reassures. “You all should head out to Mess before they stop serving.”

“You should go first, I’ll stay with her.” Tommy chimes in.

“Tommy, you know I can’t leave her.”

He searches Lennie’s eyes. He’s known her long enough to know that she cares too much.

“Alright, alright ok. I’ll bring dinner back for you.”

“Show me her feed too, I’m sure she’s hungry.”

Tommy and Lennie abscond to another part of the stable leaving Joel and Ellie to exchange looks.

Neither of them have any idea what’s going on, and yet both can see that Lennie knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Plantain soothes and repairs tissue,” Ellie offers, echoing what Lennie had taught her. “By the way, why were you in the shop today?”

“I needed more coffee.”

Ellie nods in a way that tells him she doesn’t fully buy into his story.

“Alright, Ellie, you come with me, we’ll go get dinner, Joel, you don’t mind staying to help Len, do you? We’ll bring food back for you both.” Tommy directs.

Lennie glances quickly at Joel and then at Tommy. She knows what’s going unsaid.

“Yeah. Yeah of course.” Joel says.

“Bring extra apples.” Lennie calls after them and runs a hand through her hair.

Lennie and Joel work in comfortable silence to remove Gloria’s saddle and feed her dinner mixed with tincture by hand to keep her from upsetting the tubes in her nose. When they’re through, Joel brushes her down as Lennie refreshes the poultice.

Tommy and Ellie return an hour later with two trays of beef stew and bread, apples piled on each. After Lennie reassures Tommy that there’s nothing he need do here tonight, he stretches and rubs the back of his neck before pulling Joel aside.

“Hey, uh, I hate to put this on you, but are you good to stay with her tonight? Here, to help her? I don’t want to leave Maria to take care of the baby on her own for too long, otherwise I’d do it. If not, it's not a problem, knock on my door when you tap out and I’ll come down…”

“Tommy, it’s fine, whatever you two need. I’ll stay and help her out, it’s not a problem.”

“Alright. Alright, ok,” Tommy scrubs one hand down his face and claps Joel on the back with another.

“Ellie, you should head out too,” Joel tosses his head in Tommy’s direction.

“Are you kidding me? Len’s treating a fucking rattlesnake bite, you think I’m gonna miss that?”

Joel glances at Lennie, who shrugs and takes a seat on the floor to start on dinner.

“Alright fine. You can stay through the next dose but then you have to head home to bed. It’s getting late.”

“Deal,” she gently strokes Gloria’s back before moving to her face, whispering soft sweet words to the horse.

With that Tommy excuses himself to home to help Maria with the baby.

Joel takes a seat on the floor next to Lennie to start on his own dinner. She slips her hunk of bread onto his tray.

It feels blissfully intimate in the moment.

Comfortable.

Normal.

“So what’s in that?” Ellie points at the jar of liquid laying nestled in hay next to Lennie.

“Echinacea tincture," she says between bites. "Rattlesnake venom causes tissue necrosis.” Ellie squints. “It eats away at tissue, killing it off. That contains a compound that stops the reaction. It also increases white blood cell activity, helping the body to heal itself,” Lennie answers between bites of food. “And plantain…”

“Heals tissue.” Ellie finishes

“You got it,” Lennie’s smile is bright.

“And you chewed them up and spat them out because…”

“Breaks down the plant,” Joel chimes in.

“Yeah, I know how chewing works…”

“No, he’s right. It breaks the plant down and makes beneficial compounds more accessible.”

“Spit poultice," Joel mumbles through a mouthful of bread.

“Oh. Cool. Then what are the big leaves for?”

“Holds everything together, keeps the cloth from absorbing liquid out of the poultice. Want that juice to stay on the bite.”

Ellie has moved to Gloria’s face now, “and the tubes are because… her nose swelled up. These keep her airway open if it swells more.” She cuts a glance down at Lennie who nods, and then sneezes.

Ellie and Joel both give their blessings, while Lennie answers, “sorry.”

“And you’ve done this before?”

“Maybe…twelve times on horses?”

“On other things too?” Ellie arches an eyebrow.

“Three goats, four sheep, one dog, two cows,” Lennie squints one eye as though it helps her remember.

“Any people?” Ellie comes to sit beside her.

“Nah they probably save the antivenom for people.” Joel chimes in.

“There is no antivenom, Joel.”

“What.”

“There hasn’t been for fifteen years. It’s incredibly unstable as it is and has to be kept refrigerated which, there goes most stock after the collapse. What survived went to the QZs in areas where it made sense and even then, it has a short shelf-life. Plus, no one wanted to use horses to make more, they became too valuable.”

“So you’ve done it with people,” Ellie leans to look across Lennie’s tray at Joel.

“Two people have been bitten in my time here. They’re both still here, no lasting damage,” Lennie grabs an apple and unsheathes her knife.

“That’s amaz…” Joel starts.

“Fuckin awesome!” Ellie finishes. “How did you learn all of this?”

“Books, mostly. And desperation, probably,” Lennie answers as she slices, arranging the cut pieces on the side plate where her bread was. “Hand me that, Ellie?” This about the jar of tincture. She uses her clean spoon to drip liquid onto each slice before handing the plate to Ellie. “Wanna feed her those?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Careful of the poultice,” Joel calls after Ellie as Lennie sneezes again, twice this time. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m allergic.”

“To horses.”

“Horses. And dogs. Cats. Cows.” Lennie smiles and reaches into her pocket for a brown dropper bottle to place a few drops under her tongue. “I’ll live.”

Joel cannot help but smirk.

“So what would you use for a bee sting?” Ellie hands the plate back to Lennie and Joel collects the trays.

“Bee balm.”

“Okay. Fine, makes sense. A sunburn?”

“St. Johns Wort.”

“Broken bones?”

“Jane down at the hospital would set them, and then boneset and comfrey all day, internally and externally.”

“Boneset.” Ellie is struck by the simplicity of it. “Okay, chicken pox?”

“They still have that?” Joel returns to the stall.

“Yeah it went around FEDRA school when I was like eight.”

“Safflower, black cohosh, plus probably some other things externally for the itching. Calendula, chamomile. It’s a virus, so something like yarrow wouldn’t hurt.”

“Constipation.” Ellie draws out each syllable with an arched brow, earning a scowl from Joel.

“Slippery elm, marshmallow root, that one depends on what caused it.”

“Stinky feet.” She’s getting more ridiculous in an effort to trip Lennie up.

“Oak bark.”

“Syphilis.”

“Ellie!” Joel barks.

“Haven’t encountered that one yet but there’s an old sailor’s remedy of burdock, yarrow, parsley, comfrey, and yellow dock that I read about once. Thistle was also used in these parts.”

“Wow.” Ellie seems to have run out of random medical conditions, and leans back against the wooden walls of the stall.

“Back pain?” Joel offers from the corner.

“Nerves or muscles?”

“Uh. Muscles?”

“Arnica,” she makes note to pass him some oil tomorrow.

“So you have to be here all night?” Ellie says.

“In the first few hours, the frequency of dosing helps. That swelling hasn’t gotten worse, and by tomorrow it should be reduced if we keep this up until morning. Horses are sturdy, she’ll bounce back just fine.”

“Is there anything you need? From the shop? I can run and grab it for you?” Ellie offers.

“Actually, a coat would be great if you don’t mind. Grab one for your dad too.”

Ellie doesn’t correct her and Joel notices.

In the commotion of the afternoon Lennie had run out into the street in a Rolling Stones t-shirt and jeans, and the setting sun had taken its heat with it. The barn was still warm, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. “And if you could lock her up for me? The bigger brass one is the deadbolt.” Lennie passes Ellie a ring with three keys.

When Ellie slips out, Joel realizes he feels like an idiot for not having a flannel to offer her. He had been similarly stuck with just his t-shirt and was grateful she had the foresight to consider him as well.

“I can grab a blanket if you’re…”

“I’m okay for now, thanks.” She offers him a soft smile from across the stall.

Joel moves to sit near her, offering his heat in lieu of fabric.

“Did you break this at some point?” Lennie points to his right hand, “I noticed you clench and shake it sometimes.”

“I uh. Think I might have. Like a year ago, thought it was a hairline. Still bothers me when I use it too much–probably didn’t heal right.”

“May I?” He nods and she shifts to face him, taking his right hand between her palms and he hisses a sharp inhale. Her eyes jump to his, searching them for signs of pain. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

Being touched and being burned just have the same effect nowadays.

“Do you get tingling? Pins and needles?”

“Not, not really.”

“Okay, tell me if any of this hurts, yeah?” Joel nods and she feels around, applying deep pressure down into the bones of his hand and then up through his wrist before lacing her fingers through his and putting her other hand on his elbow. “Relax, Joel,” she shakes the hand that’s entwined with his and angles big eyes up at him, noting his features are wrought through with tension. She takes him through a full range of motion, feeling how the bones shift under muscle.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He doesn’t realize how tight his features are.

“No. Sorry, I’m just not used to…”

A soft “yeah,” falls from her lips.

She unlaces her hand from his and he very nearly reaches for her again, but luckily she returns contact, palm to palm, supporting his hand. “Tell me if there’s anywhere you have diminished sensation?” She taps around, just behind the knuckles of his index finger, then behind the knuckles of his pinky, just above the nails of his index and middle finger, then strokes feather-light over areas of the back of his hand before flipping his hand over and repeating the process.

“All feels the same, I think.”

“Okay good. No bad nerve damage. Your wrist and thumb are jammed up though.”

“Great,” he huffs, thinking it’s yet another thing he can thank getting old for.

“Can I adjust it for you?”

“Do what?”

“Adjust it. Definitely won’t fix it entirely, but might help.”

“I mean, I guess, yeah. If you can.”

“Stand up for me?” They both do, and Lennie takes his left arm and guides his hand to rest just above the ditch of his right elbow. “Hold that there and relax your arm.” She holds his wrist with both hands, shaking it out before giving it a quick, controlled jerk, pressing down with both thumbs.

There’s a crack and Joel moans.

“Umm, what the fuck’s going on here?”

Ellie’s rounded the corner, jackets draped over her arm. Joel and Lennie look up. He’s sure he’s red in the face but to his own surprise, he doesn’t make a move to yank his hand back.

“Your dad has an old hand injury that I’m adjusting. Wanna see?”

“Yeah,” Ellie drops the jackets and Lennie’s keys on a square bale of hay and comes to stand with them both.

“I’ve just done his wrist where one of the bones was jammed up, and his thumb is a little out of whack, so I’ll do that now,” she looks up and searches Joel’s eyes.

She swears there’s less tension knotting his features. Joel offers a small nod and bites the inside of his cheek lest he make another obscene sound.

“Alright, deep breath, three, two,” on “one” she applies pressure at the base of his thumb and there’s another smaller pop. “See how that feels?”

Joel flexes his fingers and rotates his wrist before shaking his hand out and repeating the motions.

“It’s actually. A bit better.”

Lennie smiles as she makes her way over to the coats. Ellie brought her sweatshirt as well and she slips it on before taking a seat.

“What is that, how did you learn to do that?” Ellie plops down next to her.

“I traveled with a chiropractor for about a year and she taught me a few things. It’s subtle manipulations to encourage bones back into their proper positions.”

“No shit. Were you a doctor before this?” Ellie’s eyes go wide.

“Very much not, no,” Lennie almost smiles.

“What did you do before?”

“Ellie…” Joel softly chides.

“No, it’s okay,” Lennie rakes a hand through her hair. “I was a lawyer.”

“Like Maria?”

“There are a few of us here. And yes and no. I wasn’t the kind of lawyer that goes to court. ”

She leaves it at that and Ellie doesn’t ask because she’s not really sure what it is that lawyers do that’s not putting people in jail.

“Is chiropractic something you do here?” Joel changes the subject, joining them on the floor, still flexing his hand in the way you do when you’re suddenly too aware of one part of your body.

“Only in extraordinary circumstances. Don’t really like touching people.”

Says the woman who pressed her ear to his bare chest when he might have been dying.

“Hands and feet are usually okay, but spines get pretty, physical. That’s where I kind of tap out. Adjusted plenty of animals though. Actually did Gloria a few weeks ago.”

“Speaking of,” Joel starts, “I think she’s due for a poultice change, and then you need to get off to bed,” he nods at Ellie.

“Can I do it?” Ellie asks.

“Of course.” Lennie guides her through the steps, but she’s been watching closely and picks it up with ease. When she’s done, she puts up a fight about leaving.

“Ellie, I’m not gonna ask again, that was the deal.” Joel is kind but firm.

“Fine.” Ellie kicks at some hay, “but come sunrise, I’m coming straight back.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Joel accepts the hug Ellie gives him and he kisses the top of her head. She spins on her heel intending to give Lennie one too before remembering.

“Hugs are okay, Ellie,” Lennie smiles and Ellie obliges.

Joel notes how Lennie still holds her breath.

“Remember what her nose looks like, yeah? We’ll be counting on you to give us your honest opinion on how it looks in the morning.”

“I only do honest opinions,” Ellie winks as she backs out of the stall. “You two have fun.”

Lennie sneezes twice again when she’s gone and Joel smirks.

“Bless you.”

“And what exactly about that amuses you Miller?” Lennie teases.

“You’re basically the town vet and you’re allergic to everything with four legs.”

Lennie laughs. “Needs must,” she manages before another sneeze and she digs into her pocket for the dropper bottle again.

Lennie checks on Gloria’s breathing, holding her hands in front of the tubes, feeling each strong, warm breath against her palms, then feels around for her heart rate with fingers pressed under her jaw. Joel watches, arms crossed over his chest, less looming and more a protective presence.

“She’s all good,” Lennie concludes, making her way over to the coats. It’s probably down to forty outside and it’s only gone ten o’clock. “Might want to grab her blanket, though.” She says handing the larger coat to Joel, who gratefully accepts.

He does wonder why she has a coat that seems fit for a man much taller than him, but thinks better of asking, opting to pull a blanket from the shelf across from the stall.

She dons her own coat and helps him buckle Gloria in.

Lennie shoves her hands in her pockets when she’s through, and the ring on her pinky clinks against something metal.

“Ooohhhoho yess,” Lennie pulls out a flask with bright eyes and grins.

“Fancy some gin?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Joel sits, back braced against a bale, legs outstretched and Lennie sits in front of them, her back against the stall wall as the flask passes between them.

“I still can’t believe you make that.”

“Yeah, swing by and I’ll show you some day,” she lets her head fall back against the wood and breathes deep.

Joel’s eyes trace the column of her throat and he opens his mouth before his staring gets him in trouble.

“So— a lawyer?”

“Yeah,” the word comes out on a sardonic laugh. “Could not have picked something more useless,” she looks over at him with a smile.

Joel returns her mirth. “What kind of law?”

“Corporate,” and they both smile again. “Mergers and acquisitions. Did it for a year and a half out of law school, absolutely fucking hated it. Like, seriously questioned if I even wanted to be in the profession any more.” She takes another sip and passes the flask to Joel.

“Yeah that sounds,” he pauses trying to be polite, “pretty fuckin dismal.” He can’t.

“But then the world fucking ended, so. Kind of made that decision for me.” Joel holds her stare, a smile playing on his lips as he takes another sip.

“Where’d you go to law school?”

“No, you’re gonna laugh.”

“Don’t say Harvard.”

Lennie presses her lips together and scrunches her nose.

“NOOO,” Joel rumbles, brown eyes open wide as they both erupt in a fit of laughter.

“Didn’t have to worry about paying back student loans though,” Lennie lifts the flask in a kind of salute to the universe.

“So how the hell did you end up doing this?”

“Don’t really know. Had a passing interest in it and an undergrad in biology. Kind of made sense, I guess. I read fast and retain stuff pretty well, so I guess I can thank law school for that much.” Lennie passes the flask back to him and lays on her side at Joel’s feet, propping her head up on crossed arms.

“What about you?”

He hesitates for a moment and she sees something flash in his eyes.

“It’s okay, you don’t…”

“I was a contractor. Never finished college,” he takes a swig.

“You did something useful then.”

“Yeah. Yeah I guess.”

It’s sore here, and Lennie moves on.

“So what does Joel Miller like to do for fun?”

He holds her gaze and pauses a moment, fingers fiddling with an engraving on the flask—he can’t tell what. And he can’t remember what fun is.

“It’s a weird question, I know.”

“Used to like swimming, I guess. Hiking. Playing guitar,” he considers carefully before the next word, “singing.”

“No shit. I'd love to hear that. At some point. I won't put you on the spot now.”

“Yeah, alright,” he smirks and stands, handing the flask back down to her as she sits up. “I got the next dose,” he grabs an apple from their stash and cuts it up and she brings the jar of tincture to dose the slices. Joel handles changing the poultice and returns, sitting next to her this time.

They fall into easy conversation as they split the remainder of the gin. Favorite movies, sports teams, music. All the beauty of before and none of the baggage that crowds the room whenever he and Tommy try for the same.

They manage one more change before sleep starts to creep in.

“She’s doing well, we can probably push it out to two, get a little bit of sleep. It’s midnight now.”

“Yeah,” Joel scrubs a hand down his face, “yeah that’s a good idea.”

Lennie sets an alarm on her watch and Joel takes the other side of the stall. He watches as Lennie curls up into the hay, resting her head on her arms, legs pulled up tight to her chest. He watches as her breathing evens out to slow deep lungfuls. Watches as her features relax, eyes tracing her brow, where her eyelids flutter, the soft part in her lips because her nose is stuffed up, down to where the curve of her hip only just peeks out from underneath her jacket.

He flexes his hand again not out of pain, but longing to trace everywhere his eyes have just tread. He mirrors her pose and drinks her in, her wild halo of dark curls the last sight he remembers before sleep takes him.

_____

There’s a soft chime creeping in on tendrils of consciousness two hours later, and he wakes with a start. Lennie quickly gets to her feet and she’s cutting an apple by the time Joel brings her the jar of tincture.

At some point she’d piled more hay up around her. It’s sticking to the corduroy collar of her coat. Strands of gold grasped in the tendrils of her black hair.

“Thanks,” she sniffs, congestion a little worse than before.

They work in silence, he starts chewing plantain as she feeds Gloria slices wet with medicine. As he finishes refreshing the poultice he hears Lennie’s teeth clack. He looks over and realizes she’s shivering.

“Lennie,” Joel clasps the hand that’s not holding the tincture jar in palms that dwarf hers. She’s ice.

“You’re fucking freezing.”

“It’s fine, Joel,” she leaves the jar in his hands and her fingers tremble as she sets her watch alarm again, digits nearly too numb for the buttons.

“No, no it’s not,” he storms out of the stall to raid the pile of blankets, settling on a waxed cotton one that wouldn’t hold on to horse hair.

“Lay down, Len,” he nods at her little hay pile when he storms back in.

“At least buy me dinner first,” she quips followed by a sniffle. She takes a few more drops of whatever she’s been using for allergies before complying.

Joel waits for her to settle into a comfortable position before gently placing the blanket over where she’s cradled in hay.

He grabs whatever’s on the top of the blanket pile for himself before settling in to his spot opposite her again.

He can still hear shuddering breath.

Fuck it.

He stalks over to her and mumbles “scoot.” She sits up and shuffles away from the wall and he unzips the front of his coat. “Flip this,” he pulls the zipper on her jacket and helps her put her arms through it backwards before folding himself in behind her so the heat from his chest can warm her back.

He’s careful, however, to keep his hips well away.

Joel pulls the canvas blanket up over them, suddenly unsure of where to put his arms. He extends one above his head and lays the other awkwardly along his side.

“Thank you,” she whispers. It takes two minutes for shivering to slow and another three for her breath to even out.

He knows because he’s counting the fucking seconds. He hadn’t thought this through.

She was cold and he hadn’t thought this through.

If last night knew what today was.

It’s torture, this frigid lover’s embrace.

_____

Two hours worth of seconds finds him molded to her in slumber. One arm has snaked under her to support her head, right through the gap where her neck meets her shoulder. Hips are pressed flush, one of his legs tangled between hers. One massive palm splays against her stomach.

His nose is buried in her hair.

Soft chimes wake him to the smell of cedar, lavender, hay, and her.

He breathes in deep and reflexively pulls all of her in before she tenses against him and he springs away.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he’s on his feet as she blearily props herself up to sitting.

He’s already chewing plantain and hacking away at an apple with his knife when she brings him the jar of tincture, jacket still on backwards.

She’s not speaking.

Fuck, why won’t she say something.

She helps him in silence, capping the tincture jar when it’s through and taking it back to her nest with her. Gloria is too close to the stall wall now for him to slip through on the side opposite Lennie and curl under his own blanket where he actually belongs.

He has to pass her.

And so he holds his breath as he does.

“Where are you going?” She mumbles when it’s clear he’s not returning.

It’s soft. Innocent.

It’s afraid.

What he can’t know is it’s four-in-the-morning fear of never being held like that again.

He opens his mouth and “my side,” comes falling out.

Lennie looks up at him with big, sleep-glassed eyes.

God, he wants to kiss her.

In her backwards jacket, hair full of hay, stuffy fuckin nose and all.

He wants to wrap himself in lavender and redwood and never be free of that scent on his skin again.

“You’re warm,” is what she says in lieu of begging him not to take his heat from her.

She gives him the out of “and now so are you.”

The out of “I’m glad you’re not freezing anymore.”

She gives him the chance to escape her and take his touch with him.

And instead, he brings it back.

Crawling back under where she holds the blanket up, arranging himself with all of his prior awkward angles.

How he was before they found each other in their sleep.

She can feel him holding his breath.

Because she’s not breathing either.

Lennie doesn’t want to bring baggage to this. Doesn’t want to let slip that she hasn’t been held like that in years—not since the him whose jacket Joel is wearing and whose boots still sit in her hallway and whose wedding ring she keeps around her neck threaded on a chain alongside her own.

She doesn’t want to tell him with her words that he’s the first man who makes her feel again and she can’t fucking explain why because she doesn’t know him, except she does.

She doesn’t want to give weight to the fact that he’s the one who moved in the night to fold himself around her.

Doesn’t want to tell him how frightened she is that he doesn’t find this as maddening as she does.

And she’s terrified to move lest this shatter.

But she can’t do this for another second.

“Joel.”

“Yeah.”

“Before was—okay.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about that, Lennie.”

And she starts to fracture thinking he’ll say that it won’t happen again.

“You said you don’t like it, and I…I…I just kind of moved and I’m sorry I got way into your space and I didn’t mean…”

“Move again.”

“What?”

“Move. Again.”

Joel’s breath hitches and he curls tentatively against her, chest to her back first before the line of his body follows, finding her form.

Her waist with his hand.

Her hair with his nose.

And she melts back into him.

And finally they both breathe.

And sleep comes easy. Tangled like this.

_____

“How’s she doing?” Asked in Ellie’s voice the next thing he hears.

He sucks in a sharp breath with a start and prepares half-true excuses.

But when he opens his eyes, Lennie isn’t there.

Instead, she’s stroking the star on Gloria’s forehead, back-lit by rising sun filtering in through curls that shape the morning light like cut pieces of stained glass.

“Come and see.”

He sits up and watches the way she smiles when Ellie’s face lights up in disbelief.

“It’s gotta be down by what? At least half?”

“I’d say about that much, yeah.”

“Joel, look at this!”

And he does, leaving the warmth of the questionable bed they never should have shared.

He’d say it’s about that much.

“You did it,” Ellie gives each of them a high five and they pause just short of high-fiving each other.

Live wires thrumming with a need one spark short of exploding.

“I can take over for the day, if you want?” Ellie offers.

“Yeah, yeah, actually. That would be great. I think we’d both appreciate sleeping in our own beds.” Lennie says it without bitterness, eyes locked on Joel for the slightest reaction.

She gets it in a minute tic of his brow.

“How often should I give her medicine? Still every hour?”

“Can probably knock it down to every three, actually. No signs of necrosis, and I doubt we’d see any now. Three should be good. And we’ll get these tubes out too.”

Joel gently guides Ellie out of the way and moves to stand at Gloria’s shoulder to steady her. Lennie gently wiggles each tube, testing for internal inflammation before sliding each free in turn.

Gloria snorts and tosses her head, nearly knocking Lennie into him.

Even the horse is sick of their shit.

“How’s my girl?” Tommy appears now, glass tupperware and something wrapped in paper balanced in his hand. “Brought you both breakfast.”

A wrapped breakfast sandwich goes to Joel and the container of bacon and eggs to Lennie.

“She sailed right through the worst of it. Ellie is going to take over dosing every three hours, but I’d say we’re just about there.”

Tommy moves to take a look for himself, gently pressing a kiss to the horse’s forehead before reaching out a hand to Lennie.

“You did it again.”

“Happy to help,” she smiles as Tommy claps Joel on the back.

“You two must be wiped, come on, I’ll walk you back. Ellie, you good?”

“Yeah, I got this.”

“Anything changes for the worse, you come straight by, yeah?” Lennie nods in her direction.

“I know where to find you. But we’ll be alright, won’t we girl?” She strokes the horse’s cheek before cooing soft words of praise.

They hit the shop first, Joel clenching his hand out of habit now more so than discomfort.

“Hey, um, thanks for your help last night, Joel,” Lennie meets his eyes as she fishes her keys from her pocket.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s no problem.”

She offers him a tight smile before opening the shop door. “Hold up for one.”

She slips through the door and reappears with his jar of weird coffee. “You probably need that.”

“Thanks,” he offers her a grin and holds the jar up with his sandwich, “I cannot tell you how much I’m gonna enjoy this.”

He’s sleep deprived, sore, and probably delusional, but her answering smile is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a long time.

“Mornin’ Joel.”

“Mornin’, Len.”

It snags in his throat, but he makes his way through.

He and Tommy nearly make it to their street before Joel’s curiosity chews all the way through his filter.

“You knew she didn’t need my help last night, but you asked me to stay. Why?”

“Yeah, we uh…we don’t like Len going anywhere alone.”

“You what?”

Hackles are up.

“We don’t…let her alone. Comings and goings during the day are fine, she’s never far from anyone, but with the stables on the edge of town…” Tommy trails off before stopping his brother. “She’s too valuable to us, Joel. To the town. I mean you just saw it with your own eyes.”

“So she’s a prisoner here.”

“Man, come on, it’s not like that. We protect her. Always make sure someone capable has her back.”

Joel snorts and keeps moving.

“Because we almost lost her a few years back.”

And at this, Joel turns.

“She was out beyond the wall. Gathering something with her husband. He wasn’t a patrolman. Wasn’t a fighter, he was a farmer. And a musician. It wasn’t his job. Raiders came through, caught them by surprise. Thank God she had a sickle on her. And she got ‘em good, I mean real good, Joel. But Andy didn’t have much more than a small knife."

"He uh. He didn’t make it.”

Joel’s eyes are burning.

“She was covered in blood when we found her. We couldn’t tell what was hers and what wasn’t. And screaming. So loud. Just holding him, she wouldn’t let go. We had to get Jane out there. To give her something to calm her. Just so we could move them back inside the wall.” Tommy’s voice cracks as it plays back behind his eyes.

“You could see the moment it happened, Joel. Written on those bodies. Just. Rage. She nearly took someone’s head off, man.”

He clenches his jaw, tears threatening to spill because Sarah’s smile is here. Trying to quell the rage that rises up in his own breast at the state of the world that someone else has been here before. Felt this same bile and burn.

And for a moment he allows himself to think of Tess.

“This is his coat, ain’t it,” Joel croaks.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take it back to her this afternoon,” he grits out and turns on his heel.

“You should. So to answer your question, no. She’s not a prisoner.�� Tommy calls after him as his boots hit his front porch.

“She’s just seen enough.” Joel finishes, throwing a wave behind him and disappearing through the front door.

And for a moment, he wishes for nothing more than to hold her again.

Because now he understands.

She understands.

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #YBMPF

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ohforficsakelibrary · 1 year

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 1: Larkspur - The larkspur keeps away ghosts.

series masterlist / masterlist

Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes. Slow-ish burn.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: 3.1K

Rating: Eventually explicit 18+ / Minors DNI. tw blood.

A/N: At a Fourth of July celebration in Jackson, Joel starts to feel a little more human again.

It had been three months since they returned to Jackson.

Since they were given a home. A community. Three squares a day and as much whiskey as Joel wanted.

Which, admittedly, is more than he should have.

And, how had Maria put it—integrating—into the community, well.

Not quite yet.

Sure, he had been given a position out on patrols. Something he was good at. A way he could earn his keep. And working alongside Tommy again felt more comfortable than he anticipated.

Familiar, even.

Ellie, on the other hand, had been eager to integrate into the group of other kids her age. She hadn’t much wanted to fall back into the rhythm of school and Joel hadn’t pushed. But she made quick work of finding her niche on her own, helping out at shops in town, tending the animals in the early hours, working the farm and pestering Mitchell with her questions in the heat of the afternoon sun.

Eventually she graduated to farmhand. Integration achieved.

Tommy and Maria had convinced him to leave the cabin for tonight’s Fourth of July festivities. Independence Day.

Irony doesn’t step lightly among the adult members of the town.

Those who remembered The Before and the abject failure that led to The After.

The scent of freshly grilled meat wafts through the street and a band had set up on the steps of the old bank. Mess Hall tables had been dragged out into the street and kids raced between them, their laughter ringing clear in harmony with the music.

Nights were still cold, he’d yet to learn they nearly always were in Jackson, and Joel kept his arms crossed to keep the chill at bay.

It kept everyone else at bay too.

“You know if you got out there and danced, you wouldn’t feel so cold.” Tommy grinned as he fell back into his seat.

“I don’t fuckin’ dance.”

“You used to.”

“Used to do a lot.” Joel shoots his whiskey and his eyes snap back to the crowd.

The habit of constantly searching for Ellie hadn’t abated. She’s dancing with a woman he’s seen around who runs a store in town.

No threat detected.

The song ends and Ellie returns to the table, grabbing a handful of tortilla chips before adjusting the flower crown on her head. A few of the school teachers had taken the kids out into a nearby meadow this afternoon and taught them how to weave delicate stems. Ellie’s was a blood red shock of paintbrush plant, nearly glowing against her brown hair.

She’s off again just as quickly as she sat down.

Joel’s stare follows her out into the crowd and he notices most of the kids have one along with a handful of adults. Some teachers, some guards. That lady Ellie had been dancing with though was neither.

Speak of the devil.

“Alright, Maria,” she breezes in, haloed in a wreath of purple larkspur and grabbing for a chip, “let’s get you out there.”

“Lennie!” Maria rises with a smile, “Let me introduce you, this is Joel,” Maria casts over her shoulder as she hands the baby off to Tommy. “We finally got him out of the house.”

“It took the promise of whiskey to do it,” Tommy quips, adjusting his daughter into a more comfortable position against his chest.

“Joel is Tommy’s brother,” Maria continued, “and…”

“Ellie’s dad,” Joel finishes as he stands. Lennie brushes salt off on her overalls and holds out her hand with a grin. Joel takes it, surprised to find a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you, Joel. Ellie’s real sharp. Helps me out with little things at the store sometimes.”

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t realize he takes the compliment with a scowl on his face.

She nods at the younger man, hands on her hips, “how’s that gin treatin’ you Tommy?”

“It’s a great blend, Len. I still owe you a bottle of mine, I’ll bring it by this week.”

“No rush, I’m happy you’re enjoying.”

“You guys coming or what?” Ellie yells and Lennie presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows.

“I’m being summoned. Joel, nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.”

It takes Joel two and a half songs of silence and a fresh pour of whiskey before he finally opens his mouth again.

“What kind of shop does she have?”

“Who? Len?” Tommy looks over at him.

Joel grunts something that could mean anything.

“Oh she’s got herbs, teas, soaps, lotions, that kind of stuff.”

“Plant shit.”

“Yeah, but not like…”

“A hippie.”

“Nah not like a hippie, man, she knows her stuff. She’s also responsible for that,” Tommy nods at his glass. Joel directs his scowl towards the glass before appropriating it for a sip. It’s gin, unmistakably, and far more complex than whatever homemade corn swill he’s been throwing back. Tommy’s stock was low and the town default wasn’t exactly cutting it.

Now he was almost considering switching to gin.

“It’s good, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, don’t go showing too much enthusiasm.”

“Better’n your shit,” he adds. Just to rile Tommy up.

Joel cracks a hint of a smile before turning his gaze back to the crowd of people as the band starts up with Bob Marley.

He recognizes Lennie, but in this town it’s impossible not to see anyone around. He can’t say he’s ever paid her attention. He can’t say he really pays anyone attention beyond evaluating them for a threat.

He should probably ease up on that. At least while he’s here.

He settles for uncrossing his arms, fingers drumming against his thigh in time with the music.

He spares a glance at Tommy, baby girl cradled to his chest, fingers gently tapping against her back on beat. His own heart starts to clench.

Fingernails dig into denim.

And Joel settles for clearing his throat and gazing back out into the crowd, eyes drawn to a flash of purple.

Ellie's dancing with another girl about her age and Lennie and Maria's hands are locked, each singing to each other. She's about Maria’s height, dark bronze skin and a head of black ringlets that reach the middle of her back. He can’t really pick up anything else at this distance.

She’s pretty though.

Got a pretty mouth.

He’s old, not blind.

"What's that song called? It's good." Ellie slips back into her chair as the band launches into a Rolling Stones cover.

"Never would have took you for a Bob Marley fan," Tommy smiles.

"'S called Is This Love."

"I like it. Words are good."

Curiosity quirks Joel's brow and he manages to hide a hint of a smirk behind a sip of whiskey.

_____

Out of sheer curiosity he stops into Lennie's shop the next day.

“WILEY’S” the sign out front proclaims in black painted letters. Large windows flank the door and the afternoon sun shines on thick bundles of foliage mounted on racks that span the length of them.

He steps inside and is immediately greeted by the scent of something unmistakably green.

A younger couple sits on a bench at a long dining table to the right, engrossed in conversation and laughing over mugs of tea.

They don’t look like much of a threat.

They look. Happy.

Lennie stands behind a long wooden bar counter with three large jars spread across the top, chatting with a man he recognizes from the café.

“Hey, Joel!” She calls. “Give me three and I’ll be right with you. Feel free to have a look around.”

He holds up a hand and tells her to take her time before stuffing his fingers in his pockets and taking a lap. There’s a floor-to-ceiling bookcase along the right wall behind the heavy oak table. The shelves nearest the windows are jammed tight with books, the ones towards the back adorned with heavy jars of some kind of liquid in shades of green, amber, rust, and earth. He comes to a smaller bookcase along the back wall and an array of smaller mismatched jars, their contents opaque. There’s a generous farmhouse sink installed in wooden countertop beneath a window flanked by more shelving on which mason jars and metal bowls sit drying. Shelves to the left of the sink house baskets of fresher plant material yet to be processed. A dormant wood stove sits tucked into the back corner.

As he starts to make his way back around to the bar he notes that the shelving along this wall is stocked floor to ceiling with dried herbs, many of which have smaller jars of liquid beside them in the same array of shades as whatever’s next to the books.

And finally he makes his way back to the woman herself. Blue flannel and overall-clad, a too-worn canvas apron tied around her hips. Wild black hair is thrown up without care as to what’s falling out.

“What can I help you with, Joel?” Full lips part in a warm smile.

“I uh,” and suddenly he realizes that he hadn’t actually given thought to what brought him here. “Actually," his voice drops an octave as if to hide his ask, "have you got any coffee?

“If I had coffee, my friend, I’d be the most popular girl in town.” She mirrors his tone. “But, if you don’t mind squinting and overlooking…nearly everything...I have a few options that might hold you over. You looking for a caffeine hit or just the taste?”

He thinks on it for a moment, never quite having had to parse the preference.

“Taste, I guess.”

“Alright,” she wheels around to the dried material behind her and pulls a hefty jar off of a higher shelf. “Forgive me if this is too on the nose, but are you allergic to any mushrooms?”

“Only the kind you’re thinking of.” The distant relative of a smile tries to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“How about I make you a cup to try and then you tell me whether you want it or not.”

“Sounds good, yeah.”

She pulls a french press from underneath the bar and starts up a hot plate before moving easily across old wide planks that creak under her feet to fill the kettle at the sink.

There’s a massive leather-holstered hunting knife snapped into a belt loop on the back of her overalls.

Not a threat yet, though.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” she nods at a bar stool when she returns, scooping a few spoonfuls of what could be wood chips for all Joel knows into the french press. Only then does he realize he’s just been standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Looming.

“This has to hang out for ten.”

He’s noticed she does that. Throws numbers out there without units to keep them company.

“Thanks for the tea, Lennie!” The couple behind him at the table gets up to place their mugs in the sink and she throws them a wave and a big smile.

“Any time, good to see you Jamal. And Sheila, I just did up a batch of that face cream, let me know when you need a restock, yeah?”

“Will do, Lennie. I swear it takes 10 years off.”

“Happy to hear you like it, love. Y’all take care, alright?”

“Later, Len!” The man calls and suddenly it’s just the two of them. Joel runs his hands over the wooden bar top, noticing that at some point it must have been just that given the array of drink rings and cigarette burns marring its surface.

She grabs two mismatched mugs and splits the pour between both.

“You take it with…”

“Just black, thanks.”

“Alright then, cheers.” She passes one over to him and taps hers on the side. “Now remember…”

Joel brings it to his lips and downs a gulp before she finishes.

“Fuck.”

“I warned you it’s not the same. But I haven’t…”

“No. No, I mean…” He takes another sip and holds it in his mouth before swallowing.

“It’s ok,” she laughs and leans down to rest her elbows on the bar with a grin.

“No, Lennie, it’s—good.”

“Joel, I know you just met me, but I gotta tell you that you don’t actually have to lie to make me feel better, yeah?” She’s still smiling.

“No, I actually mean that.”

She would have doubted him if this wasn’t the first time she’s actually seen him smile. With teeth, no less.

“This is just plants? And mushrooms?” The look in those big brown eyes is actually sincere.

“Well, coffee is a plant, so,” she straightens with a wink. “It’s chicory and dandelion mostly, with a few secrets thrown in.”.

Joel throws his head back and drains his cup.

I could fuckin kiss you right now.

He quickly casts his eyes up at her to make sure he hasn’t said it out loud.

Being out in the wilds for that long tends to degrade your filter.

“Let me get a bag.”

A bag?

“Haven’t got any bags, but I can give it to you by jar if that’ll do.”

“Yeah. Yeah that’ll do just fine.”

“MISS LENNIE” erupts from the doorway and Joel is already clear out of his seat, reaching to his waistband for a gun he hasn’t brought.

Good thing, because this is a kid.

Not an Ellie-kid. Just a kid-kid.

“Miss Lennie, it won’t stop.”

The kid’s nose is gushing enough blood to stain his teeth. Can’t be more than seven? Eight?

She reaches behind her for a jar of golden liquid and under the bar for a two small scraps of cloth, one of which she rolls up.

“You get hit?” She grabs a metal straw and uses it to suction up some of the liquid to drench the rolled cloth.

“No, it just started and it won’t stop. Like last time.”

“Alright Benny, I got you.” Lennie swings around the corner of the bar and kneels down, gingerly wiping excess blood from his face before gently guiding Benny’s head backward.

“Might sting a little, but you’re brave, right?” She asks him as much with her eyes as her words.

“I’m brave, Miss Lennie.”

“Darn right you are. Alright, one, two…”

She slides the cloth into the offending nostril on “two” and Benny makes a noise like a startled dog.

“Alright, you’re ok,” she coos. “You ok?”

Benny finally opens his eyes and blinks hard a few times.

At least he isn’t screaming.

“You alright there Benny?” She repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Ok, good,” she chuckles. “Keep holding that there.” Lennie slips behind the bar again to grab a fresh mug and fills it a third of the way with still-warm water from the kettle. She adds a few drops of the same liquid and stirs before drawing some up in the straw and letting drips fall on the inside of her wrist.

“Alright, Bennie,” she kneels again, “can I get you to drink some of that there for me?”

Benny takes the mug and Joel notices the kid’s fingers and arms are streaked red where he had tried to rub the blood away.

“Alright, great job, Benny. Now come on, let’s get you washed up.”

Lennie gently guides him to the sink, hooking her toe under a short wooden step stool that’s slotted under there and yanking it out for Benny to stand on. She helps him to wash his hands and arms before she gingerly removes the rolled-up cloth and inspects his face.

“You’re all good, Benny. Now go ahead and get your face washed up, I’ll grab you a towel.”

Joel watches as the boy scrubs his face with soap and takes the towel Lennie offers, rubbing gently, and returns to the front of the shop. There isn’t a drop of blood in sight. Benny reaches up on tip toes to hand the towel back to Lennie over the bar.

“Thanks, Miss Lennie. I’ll bring you a rock tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, Benny. And hey, tell your momma to stop by when she has a chance, ok?”

“Ok, Miss Lennie!” He calls as he bounds out of the door.

A lot just happened, but the first thing out of Joel’s mouth is “a rock?”

“Yeah,” she smiles to herself. “Kids in this town don’t have to trade, but a lot of them still want to. To be like the grownups.” She takes a sip of her tea. “I always tell them to bring me something they find outside that feels special to them, but more importantly to tell me why they chose it.”

Joel smiles again. No teeth this time.

“Plus I like rocks. Pine cones too,” with a grin.

Teeth again now.

“What is that, what did you use?” he motions towards the jar.

“Yarrow tincture. It’s astringent, but yarrow, she just understands blood. Too much blood? Yarrow. Not bleeding when you’re supposed to? Yarrow. She’s got other uses too, but that’s a big one around here.” Lennie returns the tincture jar to the shelf. “Alright, let’s get you that tea.”

She scoops the coffee mixture into a smaller mason jar, caps it and slides it over to him. Out of habit, Joel reaches into his back pocket before realizing.

Things aren’t like that anymore, and yet this feels so. Normal.

“I uh, haven’t brought anything to trade.”

She begins to brush it off, call it a thanks for stopping in.

“Is there anything you need?” He points up at the herb shelf. “Figure I probably come across some of this stuff out on patrol, happy to help save you the trip.”

“I could some more of that, actually,” she nods back in the direction of the jar she just returned.

“Yarrow?” He repeats. “What’s it look like?”

“It grows pretty plentiful outside of town. It’s maybe yay high” she gestures near her waist, “tiny white flowers borne in a cluster. The key to it though is these lacy little leaves that…”

She can see the exact moment he glazes over.

“Gimme one,” and she disappears through a door at the back of the shop, returning with a fresh sprig of white blooms. “I keep a small garden of a few things it helps to have fresh, but not nearly at the volume I need for everyone. But that’s what you’re looking for.” Lennie hands it over. “These leaves here.”

Joel rubs the soft feathery flush between his fingers.

“Achillea millefolium. Thousand leaves.” She says softly.

“What’s the first part?”

“Achillea. Legend has it that Achilles’ mother dipped him in a bath of yarrow to grant him immortality.”

“I thought that was the River Styx.”

“Yeah that’s what I heard too, but the guy who named that,” she nods at the flowers in his hand, “apparently didn’t.”

He smiles, grabbing his precious jar of fake coffee. “Alright, Lennie. Thank you.” He extends a hand out of habit.

And most definitely not because her hands are soft.

“Thanks for stopping in, Joel. Don’t be a stranger,” she returns a firm shake.

And with that he’s gone.

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #tw: blood #YBMPF

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