i watch the bees

27 | she/her | writing sideblog (aspirational)

[deantfwinchester]

Masterlist

deantfwinchester's Masterlist

The following works are sorted by universe, then in chronological order (of the timeline, not posting order). Thanks to the anon that requested I make one, I'd been meaning to do this for a long time, and just never got around to it.

Thanks for reading! :)

My AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntstiel/works

No-Outbreak!AU Joel x Teacher!Reader

Fresh Start - 2/?

Part 1

Part 2

Neighborhood Walgreens

Late Nights

Hands

Care in Cartography

A New Chapter

Gingerly

A Half Day

Jackson Joel x Reader - UPDATED 2 YEARS LATER 🤩

A Simple Request - 2/?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

ConstructionCEO!Joel x Waitress!Reader

Love Me Right - 1/?

Part 1

[cordeliamiller]

my heart can’t contain how much i love thinking of joel with his old man reading glasses… 🫎🧡

laying in bed late at night with a book in hand, flipping through the pages to help joel grow sleepy, the sleek black frames of his reading glasses perched against his nose.

he hears the sound of familiar footsteps pad through his bedroom on the hardwood floor, where he pushes his reading glasses down just enough on the bridge of his nose, resting against the tip, to get a good look at you. all soft and tired from the long day you had, wearing your favorite sleepwear (which was really just one of his t-shirts), all ready to settle in for the night and get some sleep.

joel hums low as he watches you pull the covers back and get underneath the blankets, snuggling up close to his side immediately to chase his warmth. he set the book in his hands down for a moment to wrap an arm around your shoulders to keep you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“c’mere, i gotcha, baby girl. get some rest, ‘kay?”

“mhm… g’night…” you mumbled, wanting to give him a goodnight kiss too, but your eyes were already shut and your eyelids felt like a heavy weight.

the corner of joel’s lips curled up into a faint smile at the sight of you already fast asleep against his chest, his hand lightly squeezing at the softness of your stomach while his other bent a corner of the page he was on and shut his book, setting it back onto his nightstand with his reading glasses folded neatly on top.

he’d happily read more of his book tomorrow if it meant he got to cuddle you to sleep instead.

“g’night, angel.”

[unopenedcomics]

babygirl

Joel x f!reader

Warnings no outbreak - daddy kink - drinking

note- little blurb while I work on other things!

You love Joel, and that really shows when you're ovulating. 

You two were cozied up together on the plush couch, a soft blanket wrapped around the both of you, the TV playing something low in the background. Joel had been taking sips of his beer all night after a long day at work giving orders for roofing and telling his brother to stop being a dipshit. 

But he just looked so biteable; he had been making you wet as soon as he entered the door, drops of sweat dripping down his temples as you lifted yourself, giving him a kiss, and throwing your hands around his neck. Then when he came out of the shower, towel hanging loose around his hips, dark hairs leading down below his waist, and now as he sat down, running his hand over your thigh mindlessly. 

Everything he did made you feel like a geyser, nipples pebbled under your shirt, clit aching badly. God, you need him. You hoisted yourself on his lap, his hands going to your hips to steady you. You made yourself comfortable kissing him softly then pulling back, holding his face lovingly. "Baby, not right now," he groans. You nip at his neck a beat, then you whine, “Daddy, please." The deep rumble that came from his chest was satisfyingly hot.

He tips his head back for a moment, then back and kisses you deep and messy, working his tongue in your mouth, tasting the warmth and beer on your tongue.

[mcthsman]

⠀⠀* joel miller series !

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

feral: dark!joel miller x reader.

Part man, part beast, Joel Miller lives in solitude a few miles away from Jackson. At fifty-seven years old and without a Soulbond, Joel can't coexist with others— a man without his mate crazed by time and age.Until the day he sees her, the girl with tangerine blossoms in her hair and a laugh that echoes through the trees.So, he tracks her down. Hunts her through the woods, and brings home a girl that is not the wilting flower he expects.

kidnapping + soulmates au + toxic dynamics.

status: on going.

salt air: no outbreak!joel miller x reader.

The trip was booked about a year before your relationship fell apart: Five days in a seaside town in Brasil, an unrefundable romantic getaway with all of the honeymoon perks that turns into a nightmare after six-months of not talking to each other: Your relationship ended quietly, and what was once heartbreak has since turned into resement. To you it's torture, spending those hot summer days next to the man who you once loved so dearly. To Joel, it's one last chance at winning you back.

exes to lovers + forced proximity + mutual pining.

status: on going.

⠀⠀* joel miller one shots !

dog years: qz!joel miller x reader.

After your father disappears, his old smuggling partner takes on the task of keeping you safe inside the Boston QZ— Until he, too, goes missing after accepting the mission of delivering a young girl to a group of Fireflies.

dd/lg dynamics + dad's friend + baby fic + angst.

word count: 8.2k.

toska: old man!joel miller x reader.

Joel Miller was a man of order. He lived by his routine, enjoyed knowing and predicting every single step of his day— After the loss of Sarah, order was the only thing that kept him going forward. His house was well-organized and so far removed from the chaos of having a small child anymore. His job was straight-forward, the owner of a contracting company that was known to be the most efficient in his town, every single minute of his life planned ahead and accounted for. And then he meets her, a hurricane of a troubled young woman that will upend his entire life.

no outbreak + sex worker!reader + big age gap.

word count: 9.4k

trim: old man!joel miller x reader.

You've had all sorts of people come into your beauty parlor but Joel Miller, the old man that treats haircutting in the same wavelength as teeth pulling, just might be your favorite client.

meet cute + unrequited requited crush + hairdresser!reader + smut.

word count: 6.7k.

gingerbread: younger!joel miller x reader.

You love all sorts of holidays, and Joel loves making you happy. An innocent night of building gingerbread houses together quickly develops into something else.

sub!joel + pegging + established relationship + christmas special.

word count: 4.3k

gender reveal: no outbreak!joel miller x reader.

You help Ellie come out, but things don't go as planned.

transmasc!reader + established relationship + miscommunication.

word count: 3.3k

calculator: dark!joel miller x reader.

Joel Miller knows his girl would die for him, just as he would die for her. He’d just never realized she’d let him be the one to do it.

choking + safeword use + aftercare + established relationship.

word count: 2k.

coming 2026:

dog years part two— joel miller x reader: baby fic + dd/lg dynamics + hurt/comfort.

season of the wolf— joel miller x reader: fated mates + werewolf!joel + smut.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ * fox's main writing masterlist !

[papayajuan2019]

paper and pen seems so powerful now. on account of all the. surveillance

[marmorada]

[veryjoely]

Joel’s been quiet all morning. Not the heavy kind of quiet. Just… Joel being Joel.

You find him at the table with a mug of coffee that’s already gone cold, sleeves rolled, hands a little rough from whatever he was fixing in the shed earlier.

“You been up long?” you ask.

“Couple hours,” he mutters.

Of course he has. There’s always something to do. Fence to fix. Wood to split. Something broken that somehow becomes his problem.

You step behind him and rest your chin on his shoulder.

Joel glances up at you over the rim of the mug. “Morning,” he says.

Your hand slips down his arm, fingers brushing over the rough calluses in his palm. “You’re gonna work all day again, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“You ever take a day off?”

He snorts quietly. “You seen this place?”

You smile and press a small kiss against the side of his neck.

Joel freezes for half a second, like he still isn’t used to it even after all this time. Then his hand reaches back, finding yours automatically. His thumb rubs slow circles over your knuckles. “You sleep alright?” he asks.

“Better when you’re there.”

That makes him glance at you again. Soft.

Joel sets the mug down and finally turns in the chair, pulling you closer between his knees. “C’mere,” he murmurs.

Your hands settle against his chest, flannel warm under your fingers.

For a moment he just looks at you like he’s memorizing something. Then his hand slides to the small of your back, holding you there. “You don’t gotta go anywhere yet,” he says quietly.

You lean your forehead against his. And for a while neither of you moves. Joel doesn’t rush mornings like this.

Moodboard/edit by me and credits to the amazing @pascalispunkczechia for writing this lovely snippet ⋆˙⟡♡

[crippled-peeper]

“people won’t be friends with you if you’re mean to them” is something you have GOT to learn in adulthood if you never learned it as a shut-in internet-socialized youth. you can’t just go up and say to ppl to shut the fuck up and kill themselves all the time and then expect people to genuinely care for you.

[fairycosmos]

every time my hair is greasy it’s like you might as well just take me out back and shoot me honestly

[animentality]

[ggghoulish]

posting this here cause I’m still not over it. people who write instructions I love you you’re so funny

[vi-visected]

i told my dad the joke “dad jokes are just mom jokes that a man repeated louder” and he thought it was hilarious. he turned to my mother, intending to relay the joke to her, and a bare second after he opened his mouth i watched it dawn on his face that he was about to become the subject of the joke. when i tell you that man was slackjawed as he turned back to me, like he had an entire life altering realization in the span of about 20 seconds.

[dilf-docs]

old man!joel pussy-drunk (+18) ╱ want to read more? click here

pussy drunk old!man joel who can't keep up with you, and yet, despite this, can't say no to you and gives every ounce of the last remaining energy he has at the end of the day to your greedy cunt.

pussy drunk old!man joel who slurs your name in a druken tone after hours riding him, slow and dragged like the snuffed cigarrettes laying on the ashtray next to the bed, air ashen and saline, a wet spot under where his tired body lays, over the same sheets he's been grabbing a fistful of: to not tether off the edge after you've come thrice. to let you take his cock until it's overwhelming. to let you milk it dry until your tummy bulges with cum.

pussy drunk old!man joel miller who hasn't fallen asleep because he popped a special little pill he found on the road. just for you. "my pretty cowgirl" voice raspy and hand gripping around your waist, thumb tracing your flushed skin as you keep warming his cock between your creamy folds, clenching around his girth.

pussy drunk old!man joel who doesn't let you hide into the crook of his neck as you chase your fourth orgasm, whispering slowly as if he's sedated, his brain fighting to speak coherents words. "don't you dare hide from me, pretty doll. ain't you see what i'm doin' for ya'? be grateful, and lemme see those pretty eyes". he groans as he feels your walls cramp at his words, southern drawl heavier as his voice grows thicker with drowsiness and the same lust no marbolo can snuff out, "that's right. keep on lookin', yeah"

pussy drunk old!man joel who gets lost in the repetitive drag of your hips, pace and burn just right.

pussy drunk old!man joel who kisses you each time you slam back and forth, across your jawline, lazily. busying himself playing with your hardened bare nipples and leaving licks across your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat and dried tears from each time your orgasm has become too much to bear.

pussy drunk old!man joel who squeezes your ass hard to remind himself he's alive and he should hold on for you, just a bit more, until you're tired and done using him: he'll let you take control when his stamina can't take the lead anymore.

"atta girl" he praises between sloppy pecks that leave threads of saliva between your tongue and his puffy lips. it's wet, messy. so fucking arousing. "taking real good care of your ol' man"

pussy drunk old!man joel who loses his mind each time your cunt grips against him tight like a vice with every pull and bounce against his lap creaming his dick with your slick, taking in every inch of his thick cock, whining his name, each time softer from the exhaustion, closer to your high.

"joel"

pussy drunk old!man joel whose dick twitches from the sound of your voice.

pussy drunk old!man joel who despite the pill, embarrasingly comes to your cry.

pussy drunk old!man joel who manages to laugh, a low raspy rumble, when you pout as he finally pulls out, dick softening after what feels like hours (it has been hours). he then makes you lie flat on your back, broad shoulders glistening with drops of sweat and the trail of marks you've left. hairy chest, full of messy wet hairs, raising up and down, curls unkempt all over his face.

pussy drunk old!man joel who uses the last of his energy to hover over you and open your still-trembling legs with taut arms, fingers digging inside your pussy to smear your filled-up cunt with the last drops he's managed to cum.

"y'know, baby? think you'd make a great mamma" he mumbles as you gasp for air and whimper his name, vision blurry as tired arms reach out for him to lay down next to you. "i'd like to make ya' one. 's the least you can give me after ridin' me 'till dawn, with that greedy cunt of yours, my needy girl" he laughs with adoration to himself as your eyelids flutter. "don't worry, leave that to me. you need to sleep it out"

a/n: the way i was literally talking about fics where joel takes a viagra... destiny fr. will u jinjja kill me if i told y'all i imagine game!joel for these small bits?? who's with me! *mark ruffalo raising hand gif*. taglist: @klmr0 @zmbi3gr1 ╱ join dilftown residency here !

[mcthsman]

*TRIM: a joel miller x reader story.

You've had all sorts of people come into your beauty parlor but Joel Miller, the old man that treats haircutting in the same wavelength as teeth pulling, just might be your favorite client.

click here for my main masterlist.

warnings: no outbreak/modern setting, hairdresser!reader, reader is afab, old man!joel, age gap (joel's early 60s, reader's age is not specified apart from being a lot younger), brief sarah cameo, little bit of erotic massages, requited unrequited love, smut, joel's got it bad, pet names galore, untimely erections, improper use of a backwash unit, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, size kink, praise kink, joel miller's monster cock, fingering (f receiving), pussy/cock pronouns, cowgirl, creampie, fluff and smut, kind of sugar daddy vibes if you squint.

rating: 18+.

word count: 6.7k.

fox says: hi friends, thank you for reading! this is based off of this request by the incredible @time-for-my-weekly-spanking ! ive been a hairdresser for almost a decade now but i'm not north american and let me tell you... it was quite the challenge to translate the proper vocabulary into english, i've never noticed how much i could never do my own job in an english-speaking country because i have no idea what anything is called lmao but i had fun writing this and i hope you guys enjoy it as well!!

also available on archiveofourown.

You don't do walk-ins. Your clients know and understand this, most of them booking their appointments weeks in advance but, when Sarah first came into your salon while dragging her sixty year old father by the hand like a stubborn toddler, you couldn't find it in yourself to turn them away.

“He's been cutting his own hair for years.” She tells you as the both of you coax Joel to sit down in your chair, a scowl on his face, his entire back taut.

“And I do a damn fine job.” He grumbles, but Sarah just waves him off.

“His eyesight ain't what it used to be, I'm surprised he hasn't snipped his own ear off just yet.”

Joel gives her an affronted grunt that yanks a laugh out of you. His hair is styled back, as if he'd just pushed it away from his face with a little bit of styling mousse and the way it sticks out of the sides is clear that he does it to hide the choppy cut, the curls at the nape of his neck doing wonders to hide just how uneven it is. His broad back stiffens when you run your hands through his hair, the curls catching on your fingers; it's clear that he's uncomfortable, but you're not certain if it's just because he's in a beauty salon rather than a barber shop or something else entirely.

“I could just clean it up a little.” You say, your hands resting on his shoulders for a moment before you pull away. “We don't need to change the haircut, I can just make sure it's even, give you a fresh canvas for you to muck up at home when you decide to cut it yourself again.”

He doesn't laugh, not really, but his lips twitch under his mustache and his eyes seem lighter somehow, which you take as a good sign; Sarah isn't a helicopter daughter — and thank God for that —, choosing instead to sit in a corner with her nose buried in her phone while you work. Joel is tense at first, sitting straight as a rod in your chair and then barely lowering himself into the backwash unit, his head tilted halfway up in a position that you know water is going to pour down his back the second you turn the faucet on. So, you pull the trick that your old boss, a lady with bleached blond hair that was three stories high and a voice rougher than gravel, had taught you: The scalp massage.

It's not something you do often considering that the bent position you're in while shampooing a client's hair kills your back at the end of the day, but you take your time with Joel. You apply just a little bit of pressure with the pads of your fingers, mindful of your nails, running clock-wise circles from the top of his head to his temples, grinning to yourself at the way he stiffens even more before his entire body melts against the porcelain basin, the hands folded over his lap clutching his reading glasses tightly as you work him over, shampooing and moisturizing his hair, tugging and rubbing until he's all but asleep.

Joel Miller becomes a fixture at your beauty parlor after that. You don't have a lot of male clients, your entire salon mostly avoiding booking appointments for men after one too many creeps but Joel is the exception you can't stop yourself from making: He comes in every twenty days 'just for a trim', even if he wears his hair on the longer side and doesn't really need trimming that often. He also starts buying a stupid amount of haircare products once you mentioned you earn a small commission off of every sale, always leaving the salon with a new beard oil or hair moisturizer or curl defining cream that you know he'll never wear on his own. The girls you work with start teasing you about your not-so-secret admirer and, while you laugh and roll your eyes at them, your stomach still burns with something that is not embarrassment. Truth is, you find Joel to be quite dreamy.

The girls don't agree with you— Too old, too weathered, with a daughter whose age is closer to yours than yours is to his but they don't see him the way you do: The way his impossibly broad shoulders relax when he sees you, the shy smile he gives when you welcome him to your chair, the soft sigh he exhales the moment your fingers touch his scalp. Joel Miller is a man built on contradictions: His hair is soft when his frown is prickly, his body language skittish when his words are warm, his brutish hands gentle whenever he shakes yours in goodbye: You found the handshake odd at first, as if you were sealing a business deal rather than saying goodbye to the man whose hair you've just spent the last forty minutes intimately touching, but you've come to appreciate that small moment. The only time your touch is reciprocated, the couple of seconds where his large hand engulfs yours and his warmth involves you in a way that lingers far beyond the handshake.

Maybe you're the one that is the not-so-secret admirer, in the end. You look forward to his appointments, terribly saddened by the few occasions in which he had to cancel, and it has very little to do with the easy money you make off of him.

He's usually your last customer of the day, and you're pretty sure that it's because he likes it when it's just the two of you. Joel seems more comfortable like that, more prone to talking about himself when your ears are the only ones listening— You learn that he's the single father of two daughters, Sarah and Ellie, and that he tried to retire a couple of years ago but got so antsy he had to go back to work. He owns a contracting company with his brother and, with his old age, he's taken the admin duties while his brother and a couple of guys take on the manual labor. He enjoys cooking and woodcarving and he lives on the other side of town— Sarah's apartment is close to the salon, and while he makes it seem that he only comes in to get a haircut whenever he's visiting, you get the feeling that it's not exactly true. And while you share just as many details of your personal life with him, the relationship has always been strictly professional.

It all changes on a rainy January Tuesday.

Joel comes in as your last customer as usual, but this time he's about fifteen minutes late, which is unusual for the man that is always so punctual. He's more disheveled than you’ve ever seen him, his hair is in disarray, curls undone and sticking everywhere; he's in black sweatpants, a t-shirt and the jacket he doesn’t seem to ever take off, but the ensemble is still something you've never seen before: He's always in jeans and some sort of button down or flannel, his sleeves rolled up and his boots shiny, like he takes good care of it. It's always casual but calculated, like he actually put in some effort before leaving the house.

“I'm so sorry, sweetheart.” He says as a greeting, shoving an iced coffee towards you— The coffee is a newish and welcome addition, even if Joel grumbles about how caffeine so late in the day is bad for you, he always shows up with pink-tinted cheeks and the iced caramel latte he knows you enjoy. “Had to drive the kid to the airport and traffic was crazy, ended up not havin' time to go back home to get dressed. Am I too late?”

“No, you're fine.” You smile, taking a sip of your coffee as he shakes off the remains of the pouring rain from his coat before sitting in your chair. Your late policy means you shouldn't be taking in the appointment: The salon has a maximum of ten minutes of tardiness but even if you tell yourself that you're breaking policy simply because he's the last client you have today, it truly is because he is Joel, and you'd let him run you over with his car if he wanted to.

You go through the motions as you usually do: Placing the towel over his shoulders — the larger ones, always, because the regular size doesn't fit him properly —, and then the bright pink cape — which you always pick for him because you think it's funny of see a man that size wrapped in a bat-like pink cape — before clipping his sideburns and the nape of his neck; the scruff on his cheeks is on the longer side today, but you don't touch them. You like him with a beard, and you often pretend to forget about it unless he specifically asks for a trim of his facial hair too. By the time the two of you make it to the shampooing station, Joel's already halfway through his tale of Sarah's out-of-state girl's trip for a friend's birthday and how it's the first time she's taking a long trip without him. It's cute, the way he talks about her as if she's just a teenager even though you know she's a grown woman, the way he voices his worries to you and then finishes a sentence with ‘didn't say that to her, of course’, as if he's apologizing for his over-protectiveness to her through you.

Joel falls oddly silent after the first wash, his voice cutting itself halfway through a sentence as you rinse away the shampoo, his once closed eyes snapping open. He shifts a little, one of his hands flying downwards as you fill up your hand with shampoo again and your eyes drift to follow the movement, your stomach dropping in the split second in which you think he's touching himself. He's not, not really, his hand closed into a tight fist and carefully placed over his crotch in a poor attempt at concealing a very impressive hard-on that tents through the pink cape. His eyes flit to yours, the two of you making eye contact for just a second before your hand overflows with the mint-scented shampoo.

You work in silence, biting down on your bottom lip to hide the giddy smile that threatens to show.

Normally, if it were any other man on Earth, you would've been disgusted by it— Or annoyed, at the very least, but you're not. You take your time with the scalp massage, rubbing your fingers against him slower, more teasingly this time, doing your best to remain as professional as you can while having fun with it. Joel's entire face is bright red and his eyes are shut tight, but he doesn't seem as uncomfortable as he was before, his breath catching when your fingers dip close to his temple. You're not supposed to use your nails, you know it can be quite uncomfortable for some people but you can't help the way you allow yourself to scratch softly as his scalp, his mouth parting slightly at the sensation.

Joel doesn't look you in the eyes when you walk him back to the chair, which is not uncommon for him, but the air is electrified and you look away as he tries to readjust himself; the cape does nothing to hide his erection, though, and you know the imagine will be ingrained in your mind for a long time.

The two of you are silent throughout the entire haircut, with Joel shuffling in his chair every so often, clearly uncomfortable, and it makes your job at evening out the ends just a tad harder— You're not certain it's completely even by the time you're done, your hands shaky and your mind entirely distracted by him but the curls hide it well; if he never shows up again, you won't ever know if it's because of the uneven cut or because of the ten or so minutes he spent rock hard at your shampooing station. He seems a little more relaxed by the time you're removing the cape from his neck, his face still flushed red but at least his cock is down.

It's almost as if the Universe is conspiring against you, the rain pouring twice as hard by the time Joel finishes up his payment — with an extra 25% tip and a beard shampoo that you're certain he'll never use —, the two of you standing awkwardly by the door for a moment.

“Can I drive you home?” Joel asks all of a sudden, hands shoved inside the pockets of his carhartt jacket. “The rain ain't gon' let up soon.”

You open your mouth, ready to politely decline: Despite your crush, Joel is still someone you don't know that well and you're not certain you want him to know your address or to be inside his car for so long. But he blinks at you with his big brown eyes, shoulders drawn tight as if he's bracing himself for a rejection and suddenly you simply can't think of a single reason as to why you shouldn't take a chance. And, in the end, it was better than getting home late and sopping wet after taking the bus under a thunderstorm.

“Okay.” You nod, your smile broadening when he smiles back. “I would love that, actually.”

Joel's car is old, a large red pick up truck that he clearly uses for work, dirt on its tires and sides. He opens the door for you and helps you climb in, large hands respectfully wrapped around your waist when he hoists you up. You're a little shy when giving him your address, afraid he'll be annoyed by how far it is but Joel simply nods and turns on the radio, an old rock song coming through.

You sip your coffee, which is not as iced anymore by this point, sharing it with Joel every so often. He takes the cup between red lights, and you don't miss the way he twists and turns the cup to make sure his lips touch the exact spot where your lipstick has stained it— It makes desire simmer low but constant in your belly, his own lips staining with a soft shade of red.

By the time his truck pulls up into your driveway, the rain is somehow worse than it'd been before. The two of you sit in silence for a moment as you gather the courage to leave the warmth of the truck's cabin, and Joel hums to the song on the radio as if he didn't mind you stalling at all.

“Do you want to come inside?” You ask, and while the question might seem innocent enough, you can't get the outline of his hard cock from your mind. “I mean— It's just… It's dangerous for you to drive home in the dark while it's raining hard like that— I mean, uh, not hard, I—”

You burst into a fit of giggles, hating yourself from even bringing the word up. Joel closes his eyes, his face going pale before he blushes so hard his face is almost purple.

“I'm sorry for that. I…” He stops, visibly unsure of how to finish the sentence. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” You say, softly, and Joel's eyes finally snap to yours as if he can't believe what you just said. “Just come inside, Joel.”

“Okay.” His voice is so low it's almost a whisper, gruff in a way that flies straight through your spine. “If you're sure.”

You don't dignify him with an answer, instead simply hopping out of the truck and rushing to your front door, hoping he'll follow.

Your house is small and in a somewhat sketchy neighborhood, a little messy and full of mismatched secondhand furniture and you're a little embarrassed as you shrug off your coat but Joel doesn't seem to mind, his intense gaze focused solely on you. You're suddenly acutely aware of how sweaty you are after a whole day of working on your feet.

“Make yourself at home.” You tell him, hopping around the room to collect the shoes that are scattered near your couch. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“Take your time.” Joel drops down on your couch, his hands rubbing his own knees. “How about I order us some food in the meantime? You must be hungry. Any allergies?”

“Sounds good.” You connect your phone to the bluetooth speaker on top of the coffee table, scrolling through your playlists as fast as you can to pick out anything that might be of his taste. “No allergies, no.”

Joel seems entirely at home in your cramped couch, his long legs stretched as he scrolls through the cellphone which he holds comically away from his face, too stubborn to put on the glasses you know he wears— You’ve seen them in his hands or hanging from the collar of his flannel but he never puts them on around you.

You try to be fast with your shower, but you still take the time to exfoliate and shave and moisturize every bit of your body. The clothing is a problem all on its own: You want to look pretty, but you're home after work and you can't simply show up to your living room super dressed up. All of your nice pajamas are a little too skimpy and, since you already invited him in, you don't want to walk out half-naked either— Sure, you are throwing yourself at him, but you still would like to pretend that you are not. In the end, you decide on putting on your prettiest lingerie and then covering it with a pair of comfortable shorts and the only oversized shirt you own that isn't torn or stained, an old Van Halen shirt that you mostly use only in the gym nowadays.

All your worries melt away when you pad back into the living room and Joel drinks you in; he's standing by your fridge, analyzing the thousand polaroids pinned to it. He looks at you like you're the only woman in the world, his darkened gaze going from your thighs to your chest to your face.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thank you.” You tug the hem of the shirt a little, self conscious even though you love the way he looks at you.

Joel clears his throat, his eyes snapping away from you to the square white box on top of the kitchen counter. “I ordered pizza. Reckon it was the safe choice, I dunno what you like to eat.”

“Pizza's great. I'm not fussy.” You rifle through your purse, and Joel frowns when you pull out the bills from the tip he gave you earlier. “How much was it?”

“What're you doin'?”

“Paying my share of the food?” You offer him the crumpled bills, but Joel crosses his arms over his chest.

“You ain't payin', are you crazy?”

“Joel, with the obscene amount you tip me, I could probably pay for the whole meal.”

“Use it to buy somethin' pretty for yourself.” He simply waves you off. “Go sit, we should eat before it gets cold.”

You want to make a sugar daddy joke but you're so flustered by the whole ordeal that you simply smile and do as you're told; you're not used to things like that, men opening doors and offering to pay and being so gentle with you— Most of your past boyfriends were nice enough, but never went above and beyond to make you feel special in the way Joel does.

 You eat on the couch, pizza box perched on the coffee table and mismatching plates balancing on your legs but Joel doesn't seem to mind, leaning across the couch to refill your wine glass — and isn't that fancy, having an actual bottle of wine with your food rather than the boxed stuff you usually buy? — whenever it starts to run low, his own glass tucked on the ground near his feet.

The conversation flows easily, easier than it usually does at work when there are too many interested eyes and ears on the two of you. Joel seems more at ease too, his face flushed from the wine and brown eyes gleaming under the warm light of your living room. Your feet end up on his lap somehow, the TV playing a movie you're not exactly paying attention to: Despite how much you try to seem relaxed, you are incredibly aware of Joel's imposing presence by your side, quietly watching the screen with the prescription glasses he finally perched on his nose when you first offered to turn on Netflix. His large, calloused hand rests on top of your feet, not moving at first, just holding onto you.

And then his thumb slides down, pressing softly against the arch of your foot. Your eyelids flutter, the dull pain from an entire day on your feet evaporating as he rubs against your skin, applying just enough pressure to have you melting into the couch. You don't remember the last time you've been so relaxed, especially around someone that is virtually a stranger, but you close your eyes and lean your head back against the cushions and do your best to keep the little moans trying to escape trapped behind your teeth.

The first time you feel it, it's just a soft bristle on the bridge of your foot, so feathery light that you think it must've been a breeze. And then you feel it again, the soft and scratchy tingle of Joel's beard on the inside of your ankle. You don't say anything and neither does he, his lips traveling a little higher, pressing a small kiss to your shin. Joel's nose runs upwards ever-so-slightly, bumping against your knee.

“This okay?”

You nod, a little embarrassed that just a couple of small pecks were enough to get your body thrumming. You feel Joel's lips twist into a smile as he turns his head to kiss the inside of your knee.

“I gotta hear you say the words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Joel.” You breathe out. “More than okay.”

He moves slowly up your body, and you giggle at the small grunt Joel gives as he twists, kneeling on the couch so he can run a line of open mouthed kisses up your leg, his aquiline nose brushing over your clothed mound before he started mouthing at the band of your shorts, pushing your shirt up so he could pepper kisses up your stomach all the way to your sternum; he doesn't touch your breasts, and the only touch to your pussy was the brief brushing of his nose, but you feel your entire body already on fire, legs falling apart so his hips could fit between yours before Joel finally presses his lips to yours.

He tastes of wine and remnants of pizza but the only thing you can focus on is the weight of his body on top of yours, his mouth moving against yours with experienced precision, one arm next to your head holding most of his weight while the other roams your ribs underneath your shirt. You giggle and squirm when his fingers ghost a particularly tickly spot, and Joel pulls back to watch your reaction, a soft smile on his face.

“I've been wanting to do that since the day we met.” He admits, his graying curls falling over his forehead. You reach up, pulling it backwards, unable to keep the smile off of your lips.

“I got a lot more that I've been wanting to do to you, old man.”

“Minx.” Joel gasps, but you can tell he's not offended by it, free hand wrapping at the nape of your neck before he pulls you up until the both of you are seated, your thighs straddling his lap.

Joel holds you close as the two of you kiss, your hips grinding down against him, your chest pressed against his as his hands roam from your back to your ass, grabbing handfuls of it as he dictates the pace but, no matter how slow or fast or rough you go, he doesn't seem to get past half-mast. It is as if he can sense the inquisitive tilt of your hips, head falling back against the couch as his hands knead your ass cheeks.

“ 'M real sorry, darlin'.” He says, redness crawling up his thick neck. “It just— It takes 'im a minute sometimes.”

A shiver runs down your spine when you realize that the him he's talking about is his own cock— You have never had anyone speak like that before, and although you expect to find it weird, you can feel yourself get wetter.

“Maybe we should move this to my bathroom.” You tease with a small smile, trying to ease the tension he clearly feels. “Let me wash your hair again and he'll wake right up.”

He groans, leaning forward to hide his face in the crook of your shoulder. You take pity on him, your nails raking through his hair before you lean back just enough to face him.

“We don't have to do anything tonight, Joel.”

“I want to.” Joel answers immediately, fingers flexing against your skin. “I want you— Fuck, darlin', you have no idea how much I want you.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “Let me help, then.”

Joel watches you curiously as you climb from his lap, his legs parting automatically as you settle on your knees in front of him. His meaty hands flex, but he keeps them to his sides, mouth opening and then closing as if he's swallowing down whatever it is that he was about to say. You start slowly pressing soft kisses to the tent in his sweats that, while not as big as the one you'd seen earlier, it is still more than you thought it should be; you cup him through his clothes, warm and heavy, before sliding his pants down to his ankles. Joel shifts, toeing the sweatpants off just eager enough to make you chuckle, the fabric bunching as it gets caught on his left shoe.

He's only half-hard still, cock heavy laying against his right thigh, twitching in the night air— You take him in your hand, pumping him slowly, but all you can focus on his how big he is: Thick and long and uncut, bigger than any cock you've ever seen and you don't think there is any way he can grow any bigger once it's fully hard. You’re tempted to just swallow him at once but you don’t, holding him upright as you place soft kisses to Joel’s inner thighs, making your way upwards until the tip of your nose brushes against his balls— Joel jolts, just a little, but his legs spread a little more and you take that as a sign. You start with kitten licks, your hand still pumping his cock as you run tongue your over his balls; the noise that comes out of his mouth is almost painful, somewhere between a grunt and a gasp. You switch directions then, placing small kisses at the base of his cock— Joel looks wrecked just from those simple touches, his hands fisted by his sides, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down on you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty like that.” He breathes out, his hands pulling your hair away from your face, holding it in a makeshift ponytail— Joel doesn’t use it to guide your movements though, letting you explore him freely without the hair getting in the way. “Wish you could see yer’self.”

“Maybe next time I’ll let you take a picture.” You say as you circle the head of his cock with your tongue. Joel moans, his grip tightening in your hair and you can feel his cock twitch under your touch, hardening under your ministrations. You lick a fat stripe from the base up to the tip, following along the vein on the underside of his shaft, suckling on the head; you can taste his precum, salty and a little shy, but he’s far more responsive than you expected. 

“C’mon darlin’.” Joel goads you. “Take ‘im in. I know it’s big, but you can do it.”

Your lips quiver as you hold back your smile, your mouth slowly sinking onto him; you’re able to take about two thirds of his cock before it hits the back of your throat and you pull back slightly, breathing through your nose as you pump whatever part of him you can’t fit inside your mouth. It’s quite the stretch, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down the sides, and your core pulses as you think about how it’ll feel inside of you. 

“Fuck, there you go— Such a good girl f’me.” You find a pace that is comfortable for you, the weight of his cock on your tongue, the saltiness and warmth of his velvety skin making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

He somehow grows fatter in your mouth, thicker and heavier than before. You take him as deep as you can, only pulling away when you feel his cockhead hitting your throat, and Joel whines every time. You can see he’s trying to behave, the hand not holding your hair fisting the couch, straining as he tries to stop from thrusting into your mouth, which you are thankful for— While you don’t mind a little bit of throat fucking, you’re quite intimidated by how big he is. 

“C’mere.” Joel begs, tugging on your hair for the first time as he pulls you away from his cock. “Take those shorts off and sit on my lap.”

His words send a thrill of desire down your chest, your skin feeling warm and tight all over as you climb on top of him, your shins bracketing his thighs. You’re still in your oversized shirt, the hem coming down to the top of your thighs but you shiver when Joel’s now hard cock bumps against your wet cunt. You tug at his shirt just as Joel pulls you in for a kiss and the both of you chuckle at the clumsiness, his cotton shirt half tangled with his limbs; Joel separates himself from you just enough to yank his shirt off, the clothing falling somewhere behind the couch before he’s dragging his lips back to yours. 

You have never been with a man who really likes to kiss before— For most of your partners, kissing was just a means to an end, just a pitstop before getting to the foreplay but Joel takes his time with it, making out like you’re teenagers, his hands exploring every bit of your body underneath your shirt. It leaves you aching, your hips rutting against him, little needy whines escaping your throat. 

“Need something, sweetheart?” He has the gall to smile against your skin, his mouth trailing off from your lips down to your jawline. 

“Your cock.” You answer, throwing your head back so he could keep kissing the column of your throat. 

Finally, finally, Joel’s hand trails down between your legs. The pads of his fingers trace your clit and your labia, stroking softly as if he’s mapping you out, spreading the wetness that has been leaking out of you and dripping down onto his shaft.

“I don’t think yer ready for ‘im.” Joel mumbles against the hollow of your throat, his southern accent heavier than you’ve ever heard it. The tip of his middle finger teases your entrance, circling without pushing in and you buck your hips down, mewling when his finger sinks inside of you. Even his fingers are thick and you chase after the stretch, your torso leaning so far back that you need to grab onto his shoulders not to fall over. 

“Give me another one.” You all but beg. Joel leans back on the couch, one hand between your legs, the other holding you by the small of your back and you clench around his finger when you realize he pulled back so he could watch as he plunges his ring finger into you. You already feel so full your mouth waters thinking just how his cock is going to feel, how Joel is going to stretch you enough that you’ll be reminded of him every time you move. 

He fingers you slowly with precise, careful movements, his eyes never leaving your cunt and you keen every time he pushes his fingers to the hilt, his palm kneading against your clit. By the time Joel’s third finger slips inside you’re so wet the squelching sounds drown out your moans, your legs burning from how you bounce against him, fucking yourself on his fingers. 

“Fuck,” You moan, hips bucking faster as you try to chase your orgasm, your pussy clenching him so tight that Joel moans. “Joel— Please, I’m gonna—”

A whine falls out of your lips when Joel abruptly pulls his hand away, your slick dripping down his wrist. He holds eye contact as he licks his own fingers clean and you clench around nothing, your body thrumming with desire and annoyance at being denied your peak. 

“I want you to come on my cock.” He says, but the glint in his eyes tell you that it’s more than that— He wants to tease you, drive you to the edge of madness and be the one in control of your pleasure. Joel takes hold of himself, rubbing the tip of his cock against you and you gasp when it bumps into your sensitive clit. Everything feels heightened after your denied orgasm and you lift a little bit, wanting nothing more than just to sink on top of him. You start slowly, the hand that isn’t holding his own cock steady kneading the fat of your hip as you take him inside. It’s a lot, even just the head of his cock being thick enough to hurt, and you pause when he’s just a couple of inches deep. Joel kisses the soft flesh underneath your chin, his breathing deep and ragged, and you can tell he’s trying to control himself. 

“I’m sorry—” You breathe out and try to sink a little more. “I didn’t think you’d be this big— Fuck, that hard on at my shampooing station was just a half chub, wasn’t it?”

Joel chuckles, his grip tightening on you. “Don’t apologize. I know it’s a lot, darlin’. Just take your time, you’re doin’ so good f’me.”

You clench around him at his words and the both of you groan in unison, Joel holding you so tight you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. You take another inch and his cock hits the exact spot inside of you that makes you see stars; you come just like that, your cunt spasming around him, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. It’s never happened before, you don’t think you have ever come from penetration alone, especially one where neither of you are properly moving but the fresh wave of wetness that comes from it and the way your knees give out makes you sink on top of him all the way down to the hilt. 

You think you’d scream if you had any air left in your lungs. Joel makes a pained sound, something between a groan and a whine, his teeth digging into the soft spot between your neck and your shoulder. 

“Goddamn it, did you just come?” There is a hint of wonder in his voice and you giggle, a little embarrassed. You moan and squeeze him again, unable to form any coherent words.

You hold him close, eyes shut, your nails raking through his hair. You’ve never been this full before, not even with your largest toy, and it burns and hurts and it’s fucking incredible all at the same time. You give your hips a little rock, testing the waters, but Joel stops your movements. 

“Fuck, gimme a second, here.” He mumbles into your shoulder. “You’re just— So fuckin’ tight—” Joel kisses your shoulder and your neck, his mustache tickling your overheated skin. “Perfect f’me, takin’ me so well, such a good girl.” 

“Can I move?” You barely recognize your own voice, breathy and lost in pleasure and desire. “Please, Joel, I need to feel you.”

His hands move from your hips to knead your ass and that is all the answer you need. You start slow, a little back and forth and some circles, trying to get used to the sheer size of him but you pick up the pace quickly, head thrown back as you fuck yourself on him. Joel is a lot more vocal than you expected him to be, moaning and groaning with every thrust, talking about how you’re a good girl and how you were made for him. It’s easy to get lost in it, his string of praises egging you on, the sound of your body colliding against his reverberating through the room. 

His hand finds your clit, not rubbing but simply holding steady, and every time you move up and down his fingers press against your clit just right and suddenly you’re shifting your position, subconsciously trying to rut against his hand. You don’t think you can come twice, but the way his cock keeps pushing against the perfect spot inside of you makes you crack, your second orgasm coursing through you like lightning. Your muscles lock as you moan, pussy clenching hard around Joel’s cock and he comes just as you’re regaining your breath, thick ropes of cum filling you inside— You’re so full from his cock and his come that it pushes against your belly. 

Joel rubs your back when you settle against his chest, exhausted. You can feel his cock softening inside of you, his spend and your slick dribbling down over his balls. 

“You did so good f’me.” Joel whispers against your ear. “I knew you’d be perfect the first time I saw you.” 

“Is that why you kept coming back to the salon?” You ask, head slumped on his shoulder, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. 

“Yes and no.” He answers, rubbing his cheek against your temple. “Knew I wanted to take ya on a date, but I would never have the courage to ask— You’re too young and sweet for a bitter old man like me. So I settled for the haircut, yeah, but I wouldn’t come back if I didn’t think you’re good at what you do.”

You hum at his words, your stomach fluttering at the idea of going on a date with Joel. You didn’t expect him to be actually interested in anything other than sex, and you smile against his neck. 

“I would’ve said yes.” You whisper, your fingers flexing against his chest. “If you had asked me out.”

Joel’s muscles stiffen underneath you and you panic, thinking that maybe you’ve just said the wrong thing and that he’s not interested now that he got what he wanted, but he speaks before you can figure out a way of taking your words back. 

“And now? Would you still say yes to that date?”

“Especially now.” You giggle, the words coming out a little too fast. “With a dick like that, I’d be crazy to say no.”

His chest rumbles with laughter, and from your position you can’t see his face but you watch in real time as his chest and neck turn red with embarrassment. 

“How about tomorrow, then?” His voice is a little shy, rough and low. “Can I take you out for breakfast?”

“Only if you spend the night.” 

Joel turns his head then, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

He keeps coming back for his trims, always your last appointment of the day, always with some sort of sweet treat or coffee or flowers. He tips generously and rolls his eyes when you say that he has boyfriend privileges now and doesn’t need to pay. But he never leaves the salon alone.

And neither do you.

general taglist: @itsafullmoon @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @hopecomesbacktolife @rosharanfiction @shadowqueen2024 @ess-evo @trulyourslola @keylimebeag (i also tagged some peeps who seemed to be interested in this but no pressure!!)

[deantfwinchester]

Hydrate

("A Simple Request" drabble) Jackson!Joel x Reader

I don't actually know what this is. It's crappy but it's something? I've been desperate to write anything for days while I've been trapped alone in my apartment from the snowstorm and this is all that's come into my head. Please forgive me, and I hope you enjoy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You watch quietly while he runs the dremel in thin lines along the guitar’s neck. His work is more precise than you could have imagined possible until it happened before your eyes, and you're captivated. You've never seen anyone work on anything with the quiet reverence he gives to the piece in his hands.

His shoulders are hunched and tight over the instrument he's crafting and seeing the muscles rolling beneath his shirt while he works is making you feel borderline voyeuristic. The way he traces the clean lines along the guitar's edge make your breath catch in your throat, just loud enough for him to pause and raise his head.

"You're staring," he says without turning to face you.

"Maybe," you respond playfully before walking forward to run a gentle hand up his back before rubbing his right shoulder.

"Need somethin', sweetheart?," he asks while finally turning his head to look at you. There's something magnetic about him from this angle, looking up at you from below. It's not often you find yourself standing above him, but when you do you get the privilege of looking into his bright, warm eyes and feeling your heart swell in your chest.

You set the cold glass of water in your hand down on the table before him and his eyes go wide. When did you even manage to take the glass from the table in the first place without him seeing?

"Not a thing," you say before placing the same hand on his cheek and leaning down to give him a soft, quick peck on the lips. He sighs in contentment at the feeling of your lips on his as you run your thumb under his eye, the rest of your hand resting against the scruff of his beard.

"Your hand is cold...and wet," he mumbles before putting down his tool and grabbing the hand in question, rubbing it between his own to dry it and warm it up.

"Mhm, condensation'll do that," you whisper back, smiling. "Drink all of that, please," you request before kissing his cheek as well. You pat his shoulder again before leaving him to continue.

"Yes ma'am," he replies before picking his tool and the guitar back up to continue his work. When he returns to the instrument this time he's smiling, and pauses to take a long drink from the glass you'd refilled before he'd even noticed it was gone.

[deantfwinchester]

therapist just broke up with me because the SI is too bad and she’s feeling stuck so this is gonna go one of two ways:

1. i go fucking insane down the rabbit hole and finish everything i have in progress

2. i shut down completely and nothing gets written ever

fingies crossed for number one i could realllllyy use a hyperfixation to distract me from this right now 🤠

[hauntedinkk]

husband joel on christmas headcannons

husband joel who pretends he finds the christmas movies you want to watch cheesy, but when the two of you watch the grinch and his heart grows, suddenly he has something in his eye and decided to refill the hot chocolates.

husband joel who absolutely melts when you wear a christmas babydoll for him, rolling you over onto your belly and spreading open your pretty legs. and he’s so fucking deep when he fucks you, maybe even pulling you up onto your knees against his chest and telling you how fucking crazy you drive him. “look at you, so fuckin’ perfect in your lace. ya drive me outta m’goddamn mind. perfect lil christmas gift.”

husband joel who insists he will NOT be participating in matching christmas pyjamas but when you buy them and hold them up to him with such puppy dog eyes, he finally caves and agrees to wear just the bottoms.

husband joel who is completely useless with cooking but surprisingly gifted when it comes to making the perfect turkey and is always the one to take to christmas dinner with the family.

husband joel who although claims to not like “all that corny christmas crap” will still kiss you under the mistletoe even if it is at his mothers house. joel isn’t much of a PDA kind of guy but when it comes to old fashioned traditions, he just can’t resist.

husband joel who is so damn sheepish when he watches you open the gifts he bought you for christmas. all “it’s nothin’. if ya wanna return it, that’s okay.” but then the present proceeds to be the best one you’ve ever received. he also insists on you opening your presents in his lap, having you sit tucked against his chest all comfortable while he rubs your hip and grumbles about how damn hard it was to wrap the fuckin’ thing. resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing your neck and ear when you get exited about a present.

husband joel who gets all clingy and smiley when tipsy on christmas night and extra touchy. he’ll loop his arms around your waist and sway you around while you are mid conversation with his mother and maybe he’ll have to give tommy the finger for making some kind of joke about how soft he’s gotten.

husband joel who wakes you up on christmas morning with his head between your thighs. and god he’s just sucking your clit so deliciously. maybe he’ll even trail his tongue down to your asshole a little and lap up your juices that have spilled down there. he’ll mumble the most lovingly “merry christmas, baby girl,” into your pussy too, his hands so gentle on your thighs because your heads just so hazy from him and sleep.

husband joel who makes love to you on christmas night. not fucking you, but worshipping you. taking his time on kissing your whole body and maybe even paying attention to those peaked little nipples of yours. just teasing and toying with you until your dripping. then he’ll climb on top of you and push in so gently yet bottoming out in flash. oh and he’ll make sure he gets that spot and rubs your clit too just right. his words so gentle too. “that’s it, honey, there ya go. eyes on me, right up here. look at me when i make you feel good, sweet girl.”

[venuspops]

Joel Miller x Reader HCs

omg hi, first post for the last of us!! i still have a bit of requests to finish up, but HCs are easier to do and i’ve been itching to write joel hehe. take these short HCs for now as i wrap up my requests. happy holidays everyone!! so excited to eat tomorrow

notes: these are HCs for an established relationship but there are references to when they first met! how joel and reader met is entirely up to you :)

He definitely took weeks, if not MONTHS to open up

However, it was (still is even though you’re safe now) an apocalyptic world, you two had nothing but time. In between all the walking from place to place, raiding buildings, protecting each other, and killing infected of course

He’d offer up small parts of himself one by one, giving you short answers whenever you were bored enough to ask him questions about himself

He wouldn’t let himself sleep around you at first. The both of you would stay up and keep watch while Ellie slept instead

Overtime, you started sleeping too instead of staying up to keep watch. Even though you two didn’t speak much, throwing out questions and terse answers here and there, he ended up missing the chatter. Even if it was far and few

Maybe he was deprived of human contact and didn’t realize it

After even more time had passed, he’d put whatever leftover cloth or layering you all had over your sleeping body

Even now, in safety, he likes to ‘tuck you in’ whenever you fall asleep on the couch or whenever you go to bed first

He enjoys taking care of you. It helps him feel useful. If he doesn’t feel useful then he feels lost

Acts of service are definitely his love language. He doesn’t give his unconditional services to many, so you always make sure he knows you appreciate it

When you two had just met, he - for a lack of better words - didn’t do shit for you

He looked back every once in a while to make sure you were following and evenly divided rations, but not much else

It was a tough world. You’re either strong enough to survive or you get left. Joel didn’t know you well enough to sacrifice too much of himself or Ellie for you

He recognized that you took care of yourself well, that’s why you had made it so far, and you two started to trust each other more

To this day he knows you can take care of yourself, but he doesn’t know anything but taking care of others. Tommy, Sarah, Ellie, and now you

He wants to take care of you, wants to do things for you

Whenever he comes home from patrols or simply doing work outside and he sees you on the couch, he loves to sit down and bring your legs to rest on his lap

“Rough day?” you ask

“If I say ‘yes’, will you let me touch you like this?”

It’s not even sexual, he just likes to touch you. He feels you as if he needs to remind himself you’re really there

Joel responds to you in grunts and hums so often that you have to tell him ‘use your words’. It happens so often that you don’t even have to say it anymore

“Joel, did you stop by Tommy’s to pick up what we needed for the house?”

He grunts, whether it’s affirmative or negative you don’t know. All his grunts sound grumpy

“Joel.”

“Sorry, yes darlin’.”

I feel like his favorite pet names for you specifically are “darlin’” and “sweetheart”

###

i hope you enjoyed! i’ve only played the first game so far, so pls forgive me if some of this makes no sense or is out of character :,( sorry if the formatting on this one is weird or there are more typos than usual. i wrote this on my phone today lolll