Oxanna

20

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter twelve

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: as others find out about your developing relationship with joel, a date night with maria and tommy goes sideways wc: 9.2k rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be explicit smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, reader has no description besides she has hair and can be lifted, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, this one has it all: explicit smut, fluff, angst, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, unprotected piv sex (USE PROTECTION), quickie? is that a warning?, joel talks you through it, begging, creampie, insecurity, talks of age difference and body image (not reader), violence and blood, creepy men, verbal sexual harassment (not from Joel), and as always: lmk if i missed anything!! ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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XII. WILLOW

The more that you say The less I know Wherever you stray I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow

The following morning you wake to the feathered tracing of fingertips up and down your arm—feeling Joel’s chest rising and falling softly below your cheek. 

You stir, eyes fluttering open as you inhale deeply, feeling the warmth of his body against you before his chest moves as he rasps out, “Mornin’, darlin’.”

Shifting, you lift your head to look up at him, finding a sleepy smile akin to your own.

“How long have you been awake?”

He looks at the clock on the wall beside his bed. “Not too long. ‘Bout thirty minutes.”

You frown. “You should’ve woken me up.” 

He shrugs, using his free hand to fidget with your fingers laying on his chest. “Nah, I liked watchin’ you so peacefully.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Stalker.” 

Joel swats lightly at your arm that he was brushing his fingers against, making you smile.

You sit up in bed, stretching your arms out to the side a little before slipping out of bed. You get up slowly to slide your underwear back on and reach for Joel’s robe he has hanging off the back of his door—slipping your arms into the fabric and haphazardly tie the belt around your waist enough to cover your chest. You quickly use the bathroom and come back out to find Joel standing outside the door, shirtless with navy sweatpants on, waiting to use the bathroom after you.

“How about I go start some coffee for you downstairs?” You offer.

He smiles, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Sounds perfect.”

Joel brushes past you into the bathroom and you move out of the room to walk downstairs. Your feet softly pad across the wooden floor as you round the corner to enter into the kitchen. One look up from your feet has you jumping in surprise and you let out a small scream at the sight before you.

Hearing your cry, you hear the frantic sounds of Joel’s heavy footsteps quickly run down the stairs getting closer to you. He turns the corner sharply, eyes alert before he runs into you and sees what you see, hissing out a sharp fuck.

Standing before you both, leaning on the kitchen island, is Ellie—a half eaten apple in her hand frozen midway to her mouth as she looks between you both with slightly wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

At least you both decided to put some clothes on first.

You and Joel hold your breath, both of you tense and unsure what to say—the only sounds coming from the teen who now brings the apple to her mouth, biting into and chewing slowly.

It’s Ellie who breaks the silence. “Well… looks like I’m not the only one who had a sleepover last night.”

You gulp, mouth opening and closing as you try to find words. Joel clears his throat over your shoulder, his voice gruff as he asks, “Um… I thought you were at a friend’s place?”

Ellie nods, the corners of her lips twitching slightly. “I was. Then I came here to get my backpack from my garage before school. Decided to stop in here to get some breakfast.”

“How long have you been here?” You finally speak.

She shrugs. “Only, like, five minutes? Don’t worry. I didn’t hear anything from upstairs.”

You rush out, “We weren’t doing anything,” at the same time that Joel says, “We just woke up.”

Ellie’s mouth twists to one side to stifle a laugh. “So… are y’all, like, together?”

“We’re…” you trail off, looking over your shoulder to Joel for help. What were you two?

Joel doesn’t look at you and instead nods his head once in confidence. “We like each other,” he answers Ellie.

Her eyebrows raise as her mouth forms a small “o” shape. She stays silent for a few moments before she looks off to the side in anticipation. Furrowing her eyebrows together, she shakes her head before turning back to you two with one hand placed on her chest in guilt.

“Oh, I’m so sorry… I thought you two knew that—I would’ve spoken up sooner.”

Her face morphs into a smirk after she speaks with sarcasm dripping into her tone and you let out the breath you were holding in, trying desperately to stifle a laugh by bringing your hand to your mouth. Joel, on the other hand, brings his hand up to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose before sliding his hand down his face to wipe away his annoyance.

Hearing your small giggle you accidentally let out behind your hand, he looks at you, betrayed. “Don’t encourage her.”

Ellie scoffs. “Oh, shut up, dude. It’s you who waited so fucking long.” She turns to grab a mug from the cabinet as you walk into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee—the awkward tension leaving your body.

Joel sighs, following you in to grab some pans to start breakfast. The feeling of the normal, easy domesticity of the moment doesn’t slip past you.

Ellie grabs her bag that she had on the counter, throwing it over her shoulder. “By the way, I ran into Tommy on the way here and he asked if you’re free for some drinks at Tipsy Bison with him and Maria later?”

She pauses, looking between you and Joel with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Why don’t you both go? Make it a double date and all.”

Joel huffs out a sigh, gritting out her name in warning while you just laugh at them.

As she leaves the room and heads for the front door, Ellie calls out, “Congrats, y’all. Just make sure to let me know if you need the house to yourselves next time.”

“Ellie!” Joel frustratingly yells after her. You hear her laugh and shut the door behind her, turning to see Joel slightly shaking his head and laughing to himself.

Coming up next to him, you say, “I mean… least we ripped the bandaid off by telling her.”

“Don’t think that counts as tellin’ her, darlin’. But, you’re right.”

You smile, placing a kiss to his back as you walk past him to set up some plates on the small kitchen table in the corner.

A little later, both of you finished eating and standing at the sink to do dishes, Joel asks you, “So… would you, um, wanna go with me to the bar tonight?”

He seems timid in his question–your own eyes widening slightly at the thought. “I mean…”

He shakes his head embarrassed, turning to walk away after he finishes drying the last plate. “Sorry. Stupid idea. I don’t know why I–”

You grab his hand to pull him back in front of you. “Hey, hey, hey… it’s not a stupid idea, Joel.” He looks up at you uneasily, and you quickly try to explain yourself. “I just mean… Well, I guess I’m just surprised you’d want…” You look away for a moment, sighing before facing him again. “Just didn’t know if you would want to be public about… us.”

It’s Joel’s turn to look confused. “‘Course I do.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… then, I am too.” You look at your feet then, bringing one hand to rub at your other arm. “I just… I realized when Ellie asked if we were together, I didn’t know how I should respond.”

You feel Joel’s thumb land under your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him. His own uncertainty seems to have washed away, replaced by soft understanding. 

“Darlin’, I want to be with you. Openly. Hell, I’ll run outside and shout it right now if that would make ya feel better.”

The thought makes you giggle. “That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate the sentiment, Miller.”

He moves his hands to hold both sides of your face, thumbs softly brushing against the tops of your cheeks. “I’m yours completely, darlin’. If you’ll have me.”

His words make your knees feel like they could go out. Looking at his lips you ask, “What about me?”

He looks into your eyes, brows twitching in confusion. “What about you?”

You lean your face closer to his, lips brushing over his as you whisper into his mouth, “Am I yours?”

Joel unconsciously smiles into your kiss. “You wanna be mine, baby?”

You feel his smile and match it on reflex. “Yes,” you breathe out.

“Then you’re mine,” Joel says, pressing his lips to yours as you both try to break the smile on your faces. 

You pull away panting before the kiss can lead further, seeing Joel’s swollen lips as he tries to slow his own breathing. You swallow harshly and try to collect your thoughts enough to speak up. “I… um… I was wanting to stop by the, uh, library in the town center. Would you… wanna go with me before we go see Tommy and Maria later?”

Joel absentmindedly nods while he keeps his focus on your lips. “Sure. Yeah. That’s fine.”

Nodding at his response, your gaze stays on his lips. “Cool… so, um, I should probably go home and shower or something.”

Joel’s chest rises and falls rapidly as his breathing picks up. “Yeah… you could,” he says. “Or, you can come back up to bed with me.”

God, what kind of monster has he made you?

You barely get out a yes before Joel suddenly grabs you by your hips and lifts you up. You yelp at the action—your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support as your hands interlock around his neck. Letting out a soft grunt, he walks you slowly up the stairs, kissing you while trying not to trip along the way as his hands roam across your back. 

Crossing you both into his bedroom, he stops his movements on your mouth for long enough to set you down. The moment your feet touch the ground you pull him down to you feverishly, the movement making him groan and push you back against the wall.

He reaches down to hook your leg up around his waist and pushes his leg in between your thighs. You pull back from his mouth with a gasp—the fact that you’re only wearing underwear makes the contact cause more friction than you were expecting. He places his hands on your hips as he gently but firmly pushes you down to grind on the top of his thigh. 

Overwhelmed by him—by the conversation you two had, by his touch, by the feeling of intense emotion you have burning in your chest–you throw your head back against the wall as your mouth drops with a moan.

Joel takes the opportunity to lurch his head forward, kissing and sucking your exposed neck. He brings one hand up to push aside the collar of his robe you wear. Your hands card through his hair, gripping the strands and guiding his mouth over your chest.

He groans as he hungrily moves his lips further down, scrambling to undo the loosely-tied belt around your waist to fully expose your top half. You look down to be faced with the top of his head as he angles his head down to put his mouth around one of your nipples, your own body arching up into his mouth.

As he mouths at your chest, you continue grinding your hips against his thigh. Your movements become more scattered as you pick up your pace—the knot in your stomach growing impossibly tighter.

You feel Joel lightly bite down on your nipple and cry out, the feeling sending a direct shock between your legs. You began to gasp out, tapping Joel’s arm. “Fuck… I’m–I think I’m gonna…” Confused at how quickly you feel your orgasm approaching with Joel barely touching you, your words trails off.

Joel picks his head up off your chest, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know, baby. Need you to come for me. Need to feel you come on my thigh now.”

Your moans begin to pick up in volume as your lower half desperately chases your end. Joel helps by flexing the muscles in his thigh and guides you further onto him as he brings his leg up against you more, the feeling of his hard cock against your stomach sending you reeling.

You grip onto his arms, throwing your head back harshly as your orgasm washes over you and Joel’s name leaving your lips.

Coming down from your high, you sag against the wall, panting heavily before you see Joel looking down at you with lust—his own lips parted as he breathes heavily. You don’t wait another second before bringing his face down to yours to move your lips against his hungrily.

He groans into your mouth before you move your hands to slide his sweatpants off. He rips away from you briefly with wild eyes. “Darlin’, let’s walk you to bed–”

“No,” you say. “Need you now. Right here.”

Joel doesn’t get a chance to argue when you push his sweatpants down and his cock hits his stomach. He gasps out at being exposed to the air before turning into a moan when you grab him and line it up at your entrance.

You reach down to pull your underwear to the side, too impatient to take it off completely, feeling how soaked you and the fabric are. Joel takes one look into your eyes, seeing you nod before he takes a hold of his cock and begins to push inside you. You both let out deep moans at the feeling—your senses being so heightened, and you being so wet already, that there’s no need to take things slow. 

Joel pushes into you in one fluid motion before he braces his weight with one hand on the wall beside your head while the other reaches down to push your leg up and wrap it around his waist. The angle opens you up more and allows Joel to hit deeper inside you.

This time isn’t like the previous times. His thrusts are frantic, messy, and desperate—your own hips moving in a similar rush. 

Your previous orgasm left you sensitive and you feel yourself reaching your end quickly, just like how it was minutes ago. The fact your underwear is pushed to the side adds to it as you feel the seam of one side rub against your clit from the friction of Joel’s thrusts.

You begin panting heavy moans in Joel’s ear, the sounds morphing into desperate whimpers as you begin to beg. “Joel… fuck. Please, baby—please I’m gonna come. I wanna come. Please, please, please, please–”

Joel, who is still catching up to your desperation, composes himself long enough to say, “Yeah? You wanna come for me, darlin’?”

You let out a sharp whine before another string of please’s leaving your throat.

You feel him nod against your forehead, moving his hand down to rub quick circles on your clit. “C’mon then, baby. Come for me, sweet girl.”

His added friction and the increased snapping of his hips into you causes a moan to wrench from the back of your throat—your whole body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm wracking through you.

Joel’s end follows you shortly after, a frantic string of moans and curses leave him. With a cry of your name, he shouts out, “God… fuck!” His hand that was holding himself up comes back down to slam harshly on the wall as he spills inside you. You feel him twitching inside you, your own walls fluttering around his cock from aftershocks.

He quickly wraps his arms around the small of your back and lifts you off your feet lightly, bringing you over to the bed. With him still inside you, he spins the two of you so he falls onto his bed with you landing on top of him.

He holds you close, both of you speechless as you try to match your breathing with his own. After some time he breathes out, “Like I said… early grave, darlin’.”

Your day was spent well. You had gone back to your house after spending an hour just talking with Joel in bed. Once back at your own house to clean up and get dressed for the day, you spent the time filling your mind with the memories of the morning and the previous night. A piece of you felt shocked at the suddenness of your desire for him along with the feeling of not having enough of him.

After getting ready, Joel had walked with you to the town library as promised. The two of you split up to look at direction selections with you going towards the small assortment of records and classic literature, and Joel spending time in the comic book and space sections. 

When you were on the way over to the library, you two had run into Tommy. He had just given a smirk at the sight of you two together, but didn’t make a comment, only saying to meet him and Maria at the bar around eight.

Leaving the library in the afternoon, Joel had split up from you to check some things over at the power plant while you went back home to put your things away. When he had walked away, he grabbed your hand to give it a squeeze before departing. It was a small gesture, but it was the most public show of affection that had been given. Even if it wasn’t likely noticed by people in town—you noticed it. 

A little before eight Joel knocked on your door to pick you up and walk over to the bar together. The moment you stepped out, Joel hovered his hand over your back, as if unsure on if you wanted to be held. You gave him your answer when you reached your hands up to wrap both of them around his bicep. The feeling of your touch made him let out a soft exhale as his body loosened.

You both arrive at the Tipsy Bison, Joel pulling away to open the door for you and allowing you to step inside first. The smell of whiskey and sounds of the busy bar hits you. Loud laughter and clapping as the mostly-drunk crowd mingles with their groups and engage in playing pool or darts—soft country music playing amongst the mix.

Maria’s wave catches your eye as you look to see her and Tommy sitting at a table for four along the far right wall, close to the counter that surrounds the bar area in the center of the room—Seth and some other workers behind it making drinks and taking people’s orders.

You feel Joel come up close behind you as he places his hand on your shoulder, looking up to see him scanning the room with the scowl you are so used to finding on him. The only difference is you learned that that frown goes away when he is around people he’s closest to. Outside of those moments, he’s always on alert for danger and making sure people leave him alone. You assume that fact is a bit more prominent tonight with you there beside him. 

You nudge your shoulder back against his chest to grab his attention. He pulls his gaze away from his survey of the bar to look down at you, eyes softening when he sees your reassuring smile, and squeezes your shoulder in response.

The moment he notices his brother and Maria he grabs your hand and tugs you lightly, leading you over to their table through the crowd. He mutters out grunts along the way to move through people—a contrast to your own quiet words of excuse me.

Maria gives you a warm smile that you match with your own while Tommy has been looking smug since you two first walked in. Joel pulls out your chair for you, gently pushing you in across from Maria before he sits in his own seat opposite Tommy, tucking you in between him and the wall.

The moment Joel is seated Tommy reaches over the table to slap Joel’s shoulder, calling out a bit too loudly, “Ay, you old fucker. Took ya long enough to get settled down, huh?”

His teasing causes Joel to deeply exhale out of his nose as you see his jaw clench and his left hand on the table balled into a fist. You look nervously between them—half of you knows that this is how Tommy messes with Joel usually, but also that Joel hates it most of the time.

You place your left hand onto his thigh that lays against yours. His muscles relax as he brings right hand over yours, grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers firmly as you begin to rub your thumb over the back of his hand.

Maria eyes Joel—taking note of the tension between him and what you realize is an already slightly drunk Tommy. She pats his shoulder lightly before looking between you and Joel meaningfully. “What my dear husband means to say,” breaking to give Tommy a pointed look, “Is that we both are very happy to see you two together.” 

She ends her sentence with a wink at you, making you think back to the conversation you had with her about Joel and your conflicting feelings around him. You mouth a soft thank you to her, watching her smile at you in response. 

Tommy’s smirk turns into a genuine smile as he looks from Joel to you. “Maria’s right. I’m glad to see you happy, honey. No idea how you made this grump go soft, though,” he says, laughing as he takes a drink from his glass of whiskey in front of him.

Joel just grunts in response and shakes his head, but you feel his body sag a bit as the tension leaves him. 

Tommy claps his hands together before slapping them on the table. “Alright lovebirds, let’s get some drinks in y’all!”

He calls over one of Seth’s boys behind the bar, and orders more drinks for the table along with some food to share amongst you four. You end up drinking a couple glasses, only enough to feel a buzz. Maria seems to be more interested in eating and speaking with you—giving you updates about Benjamin as you ask her how things are with him. Tommy, on the other hand, seems to be spending this time drinking as much as possible, clearly taking any chance he can get to rile up Joel.

Joel, who has barely taken more than a couple sips from the first glass Tommy got him, is anything but relaxed—taking the opportunity to repeatedly look around the bar and stare people down. 

At one moment, you feel him tense underneath your hand on his thigh and look over to find him glaring at a particular table closer to the bar. Sat there is a group of men around your age that you briefly remember seeing around town. Nothing seems off from them, so you chalk up Joel’s reaction to annoyance towards people noticing the two of you being closer than usual.

Maybe about an hour of conversation amongst you four—or three, you suppose—Tommy makes a comment about your drinks being empty. Watching him stumble as he tries to stand up, you quickly begin to slide out of your seat. “How about I get us the next round?”

Joel immediately snaps towards you while his hand grips your thigh in an effort to pull you back down. Not harsh, but urgent. You look down to see him with an almost worried expression—eyes widened as he frowns.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I’ll just be right back.” You confirm your decision by bending down to give him a quick kiss on his cheek before walking around him and to the bar.

You tell Seth your order of drink refills and a burger for yourself before he walks off to the back of the kitchen. Leaning on the bar counter, you feel eyes on you and turn to see Joel sat at your table watching you. You try to give him a smile in reassurance but your view gets blocked considering the crowd of people between you.

You turn your attention forward again, taking the chance to look around the various decorations of animal skulls that are mounted on the walls.

That feeling of being watched back a few seconds later, but this time it feels off. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, attempting to search for Joel but are met with one of the men at the table Joel was glaring at earlier. His close proximity makes you jump for a second, realizing it was his stare you had felt as he walked up to you.

You see a leering smile on his face as he stops very close to you—close enough that you stumble to the side and plop onto the bar stool instead of standing and leaning on the countertop.

He just stands there for a moment looking at you before he says, “Hey there, sweet pea.”

His words make you cringe, the feeling only growing worse as you smell the intense amount of alcohol that leaves his breath and wince. You look towards the bar, staring up at the bottles along the top shelf as you try to ignore him. Not taking the hint, the man continues. “What? You don’t remember me?”

The question makes you turn to look at him, eyes squinting as they scan over his features before you shake your head politely to tell him you don’t. Your response makes him scoff in a way that makes it seem like he’s just playing, but you can hear genuine annoyance in his tone. 

“It’s me,” he says, a dramatic tilt of his head to grab your attention. “Dylan?”

You look to the bar, hoping to see Seth coming back with your drinks before you briefly glance at Dylan. “Sorry, I don’t remember.”

He leans his hand against the counter, moving closer to you as he ducks his head to try and get you to look at him. “Oh, come on. You’ve talked to me at town meetings and shit like that.”

You focus your eyes back on him and only then do you barely remember what has to be the handful of times you had spoken to him in town. You offer a short nod and say, “Oh, right yeah. I remember now.”

The answer seems to satisfy him enough to sit on the stool next to yours, making you lean back and let out a quiet groan under your breath. “So,” he says, “Saw you with the boss’ brother.”

The mention of Joel makes you frown at him. “Brother-in-law,” you correct. “Maria’s the one in charge, not Tommy.”

He waves his hand away as if the correction doesn’t matter to him. “Whatever. I gotta say, it’s sad seeing you sit on your own over there being forced to hang out with old people like them.” 

His words make your jaw clench as you try not to snap and choose to ignore him. You see him look up behind you to find what you assume is his friend, another man you recognized from the table earlier, moving to sit at the seat on the other side of you. “This here’s my friend, Justin.” Dylan extends his arm behind your back to gesture to his friend while letting his hand brush against your back.

Feeling cornered, you go to stand up and walk away when the other man, Justin, speaks up and grabs your attention. “What’s a hot chick like you doing sitting so close to that grandpa?”

Your head snaps to him. Rage simmers inside you from hearing insults thrown at Joel. “None of your business.”

Justin squints at your defensive tone, and a beat passes before Dylan lets out a sharp laugh in disbelief. “No shit—are you fucking that guy?!”

You feel your body begin to tremble and pry yourself from the bar stool to get up when both men stand up and trap you against the counter. “Move,” you grit out. 

Dylan reaches a hand up to try and brush your arm. “None of that, sweet pea. We’re just wanting to–”

He cuts off with a sharp cry of pain, the sound shocking you until you see the cause. Joel stands behind them, grabbing Dylan’s hand before he could make contact with you and twisting it back until his fingers hit his wrist.

Joel lets go to push him further away from you and Dylan lets out a gasp of relief from his hand being free.

“She said, move.”

You focus your attention on Joel—his body looming over the two men who were crowding you, his eyes hard and cold as you recognize the look in them. It’s similar to the one he had when the two of you ran into those raiders a couple weeks ago.

His hands are balled into fists at his side. His chest moves up and down rapidly—nostrils flaring and jaw clenched.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem, man?” The loud exclamation seems to garner the attention of some close surrounding people.

Joel’s attention slowly moves down to Justin as he hears his voice. You watch as Justin stumbles back when Joel’s gaze lands on him. Joel towers over both of them—his height and the broadness making them nervous at the sight of him standing over them.

Dylan, done grasping at his hand and wailing in pain, stands up straighter to look at Joel. You realize just how drunk he is when he jabs a finger into Joel’s chest while his friend begins to look a little less confident at the confrontation. 

Joel looks down, bored, at the finger that presses into his chest before looking back up at Dylan eerily calm.

“We were talking to the hot chick until you so rudely hurt me. Unprompted too, man.”

At his words, Joel takes a deep exhale but doesn’t say anything in response.

Moving his finger off of Joel, a smug smirk crosses Dylan’s face. “In fact… we were talking about how hard it is to believe that someone like her is with someone like you. Weren’t we, Justin?” 

Gesturing to his friend, Dylan finds Justin cowering away from Joel and beginning to slowly back away from you.

“Oh were you, now?” Joel asks, seething.

“Yeah… I think she ought to have a real night of pleasure. Nothing someone your age would be able to offer her,” he says, reaching his arm down to behind you.

You impulsively begin to step away but he doesn’t get a chance to make contact with you as Joel suddenly reaches out to grip his arm tightly. Dylan winces, grappling at Joel’s hand to try and wrench himself free, but Joel just tightens his hold as his face remains stoic.

You watch as Joel yanks Dylan towards him and away from you before he twists his arm behind his back, the action causing Dylan to cry out in pain and alert the people in the bar. You gasp and step back as Joel slams Dylan’s head onto the counter, a sickening crunch being heard as his nose makes impact with the marble top. Blood gushes from his nose, growing worse as Joel continues to pick him up and slam him in the counter once more while simultaneously further twisting Dylan’s arm behind his back.

His friend seems to gather the courage to try and pull Joel off of him, but Joel just lets go and turns to punch Justin in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Tommy runs up to your group, evidently more sober than he has been earlier, to reach and stop Joel from straddling Justin and punching him more. He grabs hold of Joel’s arms and pulls him back with a shout. “Hey! Knock it off!”

Joel continues to thrash in Tommy’s arms. A few other men, you assume the others from the table with Justin and Dylan, come over to help their friends off the floor before turning to Joel with the intent to fight him.

“Enough!”

The loud call makes the whole bar go silent—everyone stopping to turn and look at Maria who stands at your side now. She rubs your arm before looking harshly at the group of men in front of her in a reprimanding demeanor.

She shifts her gaze to Joel, who just stares at her as he breathes in and out quickly. Nodding in your direction, she says, “You. Take her home.” Turning back to the men, she says, “And you. Take your two friends to the doctor and I’ll meet you there and deal with you later.”

They stare at her in disbelief for a moment before she hardens her gaze at them and hisses out a sharp, “Now.”

The uninjured ones scramble to drag their friends out of the bar with Dylan and Justin moaning in agony on the way out.

Joel begins to shrug Tommy off of him until his brother lets go completely, allowing Joel to immediately march up to you. The moment you’re in his grasp, he grabs both sides of your face with his hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “Are you okay, darlin’?” He whispers.

You bring your hands to hold onto his arms and nod. Joel leans his head against your forehead momentarily before stepping back to wrap his arm around your waist. He looks at his brother and Maria, and you watch her and Joel share some unspoken words. After a second of just looking at each other, he firmly nods once before she offers him one in return. It’s a rare sight—possibly the first time you’ve seen the two share a mutual look of understanding and respect, even.

Joel hastily guides you through the bar and out into the mildly cold night. All the while, you lean into his chest shyly as you feel and see people’s stares as you walk out—hushed words being said as they notice your obvious affiliation with Joel.

The entire walk home is silent as Joel keeps one arm wrapped around your waist with the other down at his side, his hand flexing open and closed in an effort to control his anger.

You become nervous as you recall the events of the night. How on edge Joel was the whole time. How uncomfortable he seemed at people’s eyes on the two of you. How bothered he was by Tommy’s teases and the assholes’ comments. Insecurity began to wash over you—did Joel regret going out in public with you?

By the time you reach your street, a pit has formed in your stomach and you begin to wonder if Joel will just drop you off at home. Your worry is quickly quelled when Joel guides the two of you towards his house—a silent indication to you that he wanted you with him tonight.

He opens the door for you, gesturing you inside where you take off your shoes next to the door and hover in his entryway. Without looking at you, he shuts his door and keeps his gaze fixated on the floor. You can see the muscles in his jaw tick before he wordlessly walks past you and into the kitchen. 

You stand in the entryway for the moment, fidgeting with your hands in front of you before slowly following him and brace your shoulder against the doorway of the kitchen. You find Joel filling two glasses of water before handing one to you, a soft hum leaving his throat. Grabbing the glass, you notice the cuts and bruises on his hand from the fight at the bar with smeared blood across his knuckles.

You gasp before setting down the glass and walking up to him to gently grab his hands and bring them up to take a closer look. 

Joel winces slightly, a soft hiss coming out before he mutters, “M’fine, darlin’.”

You look at him with doubt and a growing annoyance at his dismissal. “No, Joel. You’re not fine.”

He tries to pull his hands from your grasp, mumbling arguments, but you let out a frustrated huff. “God, can you just let me fucking help you for once, Joel?”

He stands there blinking for a moment, shocked at your outburst before he gives in with a soft nod of his head and dips his gaze to the floor.

You sigh, feeling guilty for briefly snapping at him, and you take a gentle grip on his hands to guide him up the stairs. You make your way into his bathroom to fill a small bucket with water, grabbing a rag and some alcohol before turning around to see Joel leaning on the doorway. 

He looks around the bathroom mindlessly, standing there in an almost child-like manner as if he doesn’t know what to do apart from you. The sight makes your shoulders sag in defeat.

“Here, go sit on the bed and I'll clean your hands over there.”

Joel shakes his head, pushing himself off the door frame and walking up to you. You look at him puzzled for a moment until he grabs your hips and hoists you up to sit on his bathroom counter, moving to stand between your legs that now drape on either side of his thighs.

He brings his hands over to lay in yours that rest on your lap—a deadpan look on your face as you say, “You know, if I’m cleaning up your wounds then shouldn’t you be the one that’s sitting down, ya know, relaxing?”

His lips quirk up at the corner—a small smirk showing on his face as he looks in your eyes. “Guess I just want an excuse to be between your legs.”

A soft scoff leaves your lips at his playful demeanor and you take his hand to begin gently wiping away the blood from his knuckles. “You’re digging your own early grave at this rate.”

You watch his face fall into a frown as he looks to be pulled into his own thoughts. His expression concerns you, but you decide to not push—giving Joel the space to speak with you when he wants. If he wants.

After cleaning his hands, you pour some alcohol on the rag to wipe his cuts over his knuckles. He lets out a soft hiss at the contact, making you wince out an apology. He just shakes his head assuring you he’s fine and lets you continue your ministrations. 

Satisfied with your work, you let go of his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles before he steps back from you and helps you slide down until your feet hit the floor. Rubbing the back of his neck, he asks, “You alright to sleep over tonight? Can borrow some of my clothes to wear to bed if that’s okay?”

Your heart twists hearing the uncertainty in his voice as he asks you—the answer obvious in your eyes. “Of course I will, baby.”

His eyes go soft at the name, and he tells you he wants to take a shower first. After pulling out some clothes for you, sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved flannel, he tells you to get situated in bed while he showers. 

Now dressed and warm, you make your way into his bed and lay there flipping through the book on his bedside table while you wait. 

A short time later you hear the faucet turn off and listen to the sounds of him moving around as he gets out of the shower. You look over when you hear the door open to find Joel step out. His hair is still wet with his curls being messy from him scrubbing a towel over them. A towel hangs from his hips as he walks into the bedroom area. You try, and fail, to not stare at the way his muscles ripple and the way water droplets slide off his hair, down his neck and back as he faces away from you.

You watch him carefully when you see him moving around his room as if he’s not entirely there—unconsciously looking through his drawers to find some boxers and flannel bottoms and sliding them over his hips.

“You gonna be okay sleeping shirtless? Or are you gonna rely on me for warmth?” You ask lightheartedly in an effort to break the tension in the air.

He doesn’t seem to process your words as he continues to move aimlessly around his room, picking up different pieces of clothing from the floor and tossing them into the laundry basket. The sight and his lack of response only makes your worried feeling grow until you softly speak his name. You barely get out the syllables before he snaps his head up to look at you with a frown on his face.

“Do you ever think of our age?”

You blink once, the question throwing you off guard as the topic was not even something to cross your mind after the events of tonight. “What?” You ask, letting a soft laugh escape you.

He just shakes his head and looks at his feet. “Forget it.”

You sit up in bed, crawling over to him as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Reaching his side, you place your hands on his shoulders from behind him as you lean to look at this face. “Joel?” You say, gently prying his hands from his face.

He turns to look at you with his brows furrowed and biting the inside of his cheek. His lips part as he tries to talk, but he seems to get frustrated with himself as he suddenly huffs out a breath and stands up pacing in front of the bed.

“Joel…” you repeat, feeling uneasy.

He shakes his head again, standing still to place his hands on his hips and stare at you almost accusingly. 

“I’m old,” he says, stopping after saying those words to stare at you. Realizing he expects an answer but having none, you slowly shake your head at him confused. 

“You–” he cuts himself off and looks around the room. “You realize I can’t protect ya properly, right?”

A gasp leaves you. “What? Joel, what the hell are you–”

“The comic book store.”

His gaze locks onto you and his words silence you as he keeps his eyes on yours firmly and a scowl fills his face. “I couldn’t hear the damn clicker, and it nearly got you fuckin’... killed. And then, the raiders. I didn’t hear that sick fucker come up and grab you. I couldn’t fuckin’ hear it because of my own damn decisions. And then I seen him hold you. Knife to your fuckin’ throat. And I just froze.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I felt… fuckin’... paralyzed. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. And it’s happened before, with Ellie back when I–” Joel pauses at that, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers before composing himself and changing the topic back to you.

He begins throwing his arms out as he speaks and continues pacing in front of his bed. “If I was… if I was stronger, younger… maybe I wouldn’t freeze up. Maybe I could anticipate that shit. Maybe I wouldn’t let the people that I love come even close to being in danger. Maybe, if my body wasn’t so fuckin’ soft… if I wasn’t so weak… if I was more fit then I could…”

He pauses and shakes his head as his voice begins to break when he speaks up again. “And everyone around town knows it.” His eyes are big and crazed as he waves his arm around. “They all see it. They know I’m old. They know I can’t fuckin’ keep anyone safe… God, I couldn’t even keep my–”

Joel’s words cut off as he breaks into a sob, his shoulder falling forward as cries wrack through his body. The sight makes you lurch out of his bed and launch yourself towards him to throw your arms around his shoulders. You feel his own arms grip your sides and slide around your back, burying his head in your shoulder. You feel him let go of everything you think he had been holding inside of him—full sobs leaving his lips as he struggles to catch his breath.

You hold him against you tightly, running one of your hands through his hair soothingly as you keep the other gripped tightly around his shoulder. You try to help calm him as best as you can by offering gentle hushes and reassurances. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe with me, okay, Joel? I got you. I got you, honey.”

For a moment it feels like your words do the opposite of what you wanted. The sounds of his cries and the shaking of his body only grow worse. It isn’t until after a few minutes that his breathing begins to slow into short gasps and his cries subside into sniffles.

Feeling his body relax slightly against yours, you lean your head back to pull his face in front of yours, but the sight makes your heart shatter inside you. He looks at you with shy, insecure eyes that are red and full of tears that run down his cheeks slowly. 

You feel your own tears that had been welling in your eyes begin to fall down as you look at him. You move your hand to grab his and feel him latch onto you tightly as you walk him over to the bed. He encourages you to climb into bed first where you lay your back against the headboard and see him climb until he lays on top of you to rest his head at the base of your neck. You place your chin on the top of his hair and begin to move your hands up and down his arms, feeling him wrap an arm around your waist to pull you in closer to him.

The two of you lay there as you hear his breathing and cries slow until he regulates his breathing. Unbeknownst to you, the feeling of your heartbeat under his ear is what grounds him.

“Joel?” You whisper, tapping his arm lightly. He slowly turns his head to meet your eyes with his glassy ones, a soft pout on his lips and he looks between your eyes and your lips as you speak to him. “Is it okay if I talk?” You ask.

He furrows his brows at your question but nods. “You don’t have to ask, darlin’,” he says, his voice hoarse and broken.

You take a deep breath in and take his hand that lays on your stomach with your free one to interlock your fingers before speaking. “None of that was your fault, Joel…” He looks as though he wants to cut you off, but you shake your head once in a silent ask for permission to speak freely. He relaxes his shoulders, beckoning you to continue.

“You can’t blame yourself for any of it. Especially with your ear. You couldn’t have… you couldn’t have known. The comic book store… I just saw it first. It wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. I just saw it first, and I wanted to protect you. Because I– I care about you. That was my decision.”

His eyes flit back and forth between your own as he takes in your words, his eyebrows tilted up in a heartbreaking expression.

“The raiders… they were vile people. But, I think you forget it was six against us two. Joel… you took down more than half of them on your own. You kept me safe. When the last one grabbed me, it was because I ran out of bullets,” you look down to your interlocked hands as you recall the memory. “He heard me draw blanks, and he grabbed me during my moment of weakness. Not yours.”

Joel’s eyebrows twitch as he listens to you. “I was as good as dead in my eyes. I froze too. I let him take hold of me before I could escape quick enough and I panicked when I didn’t know how to get out. You were the one who knew what I wanted you to do. You were the one who shot him. Hell—Joel you shot him without hitting me with more than a slight graze. If the roles were reversed I totally would’ve put a bullet through your shoulder.”

You let out a cross between a sob and a laugh, feeling Joel’s body twitch with his own light scoff. “You saved me… It was your comfort I relied on. It was you who I needed to help me through that moment. And, Ellie…” you trail off.

“I don’t know about your journey with her, and I don’t need to know if you guys don’t want to share.” You see Joel’s face soften and settle into a more relaxed state—his big, sad eyes looking up at you attentively. “But you know what I do know? I know she’s here. Alive. And that’s a big feat in this world. If she was on her own…”

The thought makes your body shiver, a chill going through you. “I can’t… I can’t imagine what could’ve happened to her. But you,” you pause, shaking his shoulder lightly as you put emphasis on your next words. “You kept her alive. You kept her safe, happy, and breathing. You brought her here where she gets a chance to thrive and grow. That girl fucking loves you, Joel. She relies on you, so ardently. Even if you can’t see it.”

There’s something guarded in Joel’s eyes when you talk about Ellie. Something that has him tensing up just the slightest, but you don’t question it. Instead, you think about the last words he spoke before he cut himself off with a sob.

“And…” You pause, not wanting to speak her name or what happened.

You shut your eyes and try to compose yourself before you let out a slow, stuttering exhale. “I can not imagine… I– Joel, you can not blame yourself for something like that. This world is fucking cruel, and it’s ruthless, and it’s painful, and… and we can’t control what happens. You can’t hold that burden on your shoulders, baby.”

A choked sound leaves Joel’s throat as his face twists into pain, a short sob leaving his lips as he takes a deep breath in and lets your words sink into him. 

You pause for a moment and allow the two of you to sit in silence—the quiet air being filled with soft breaths from the two of you and the tick of the clock.

“And… Joel?” You shakily say, unsure on how to phrase the next part. Hearing your wavering, he straightens up a bit in your hold and nods to you in encouragement to continue. Looking back down to your hands intertwined at your stomach, you say, “Your… age? I–”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before looking at him again. “Your body, and your age, is not something that makes you weak. It doesn’t… alter your strength, or your value.”

You hear him take a sharp inhale of breath, seeming to hold it as you talk. “In fact, it’s the opposite,” you say and watch his face twist into stubborn confusion. 

“Do you know how lucky we are? For our bodies to change in a positive way. That’s… Joel, that's a gift. It means we aren’t starving. We aren’t on the run. We aren’t struggling to stay alive. We’re safe, here, in Jackson. We have access to food and comfort that we can relish in and appreciate. Of course our bodies are going to change. We aren’t in a constant state of survival right now. We get to live.”

Joel’s face softens as your words sink in. “I didn’t— I never saw it that way…” he trails off. 

You give him a small smile and nudge his shoulder. “You think my body hasn’t changed?” 

At that, Joel’s face screws up in offense. “There’s nothin’ wrong with your body, darlin’.” 

The serious tone in his voice makes you let out a giggle. “See? That’s how I feel about yours.” 

That seems to make Joel huff out a breath at your point. “And, your age? Another good sign.” 

You try not to laugh as you see Joel’s face screw up in confusion. “How the hell is that a good thing?”

Smiling, you say, “Because you’re getting old. It means you’re alive long enough. It means I get to keep you for a while. Shows that you’ve survived this long. Long enough for me to meet you.”

Joel’s expression softens almost instantly and he looks down at your interlocking hands that rest on your stomach. “I happen to like the idea of watching you get older. Older means you’re still here.”

The thought makes Joel’s eyes snap up to look at yours, scanning them for any sign of a lie or doubt but finding known. Instead, what he finds makes him feel the air get knocked out of his lungs. He leans his face slowly to yours, hovering his lips over your own for a moment before pressing them to yours. You meet him with the same slow movements in an effort to wordlessly express what you can’t bring yourself to say quite yet.

Caressing your hair with his palm on the side of your head, he slowly pulls away before pressing a short kiss to your lips, your nose, and your forehead. His touch makes you giggle—relief fills you as Joel pulls back and you see his face morph into a breathtaking smile.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he whispers.

You respond by shifting your body down until your back is lying on the bed with your head on the pillow. He keeps your previous position the same, wrapping his arm tightly across your stomach as he lays his head over your heart.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you say. The only response you get in return is a soft hum as his eyes fall shut to the feeling of your fingers moving through his hair, and Joel mouthing three words to himself before he succumbs to sleep.

a/n: so sorry for a more delayed posting. I have had incredibly bad writer’s block, so updates for take my hand may be slower. I have many chapters outlined but I’ve hit a block towards the end of the story as a whole. instead of putting out weekly chapters and maybe going months without one later down the line, I’m gonna post them slower to give myself time to catch up so that way there’s not a giant chunk of time without any chapter. 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @silksepia @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63 @lizzie-cakes @vanishintoyoubby @keileighr @umadirectioner if anyone else wants to be tagged, removed, or if I’ve missed any, then please let me know!

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter eleven

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: after your night together, joel has special plans for the both of you he’s been preparing wc: 13.8k rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be explicit smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, reader has no description besides she has hair and can be lifted, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, slow burn BUT NOT ANYMORE, tons of fluff, explicit smut, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), face riding, unprotected piv sex (USE PROTECTION), soft!joel, joel talks you through it, begging, creampie, aftercare, lmk if i missed anything!! ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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XI. THE AIR THAT I BREATHE

Making love with you Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired What more could I ask There's nothing left to be desired Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak So sleep, silent angel Go to sleep Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe And to love you

Something that’s always irked you about your room was your window. With the way your house was facing, the sun always rose on the side of your bedroom window. This means that if you didn’t remember to tuck your curtains behind your dresser, the sunlight would peak through the space and angle the brightness directly on your face. It’s such a small detail that really only annoyed you on days when you wanted to sleep in. Days like today.

You squint your eyes as you blink them open, the light hitting them directly and making you screw your face up and shift to stare up at your ceiling. Looking up, you notice something… no, someone in your peripheral, momentarily making you freeze.

Faint sounds of snoring make you remember who’s beside you—remember what happened last night. As your body becomes more alert, the foggy feeling of sleep leaves your brain and you begin to focus on your surroundings. The feeling of a warm body pressed against your back, the weight of an arm slung across your waist, a thick leg slotted loosely between your own, feet tangled underneath your sheets. The snores you hear leave a mouth you feel inches from the back of your neck, warm air hitting your skin with every slow exhale.

Your body sags back into the mattress and you tuck your hand underneath your pillow as a smile graces your face, so wide that it strains your cheeks. Memories flip through your mind like film—snapshots of breathy moans and the feeling of heavy weight on you has you pressing your thighs together to soothe a slight ache. Although, the movement makes you aware of the soreness you felt between your legs that serves as a physical reminder of the events from the previous night.

You register the dry feeling in your throat, prompting you to want to get up and drink the water that sits on your bedside table before using the restroom. You bite your lip, holding your breath as you slowly and quietly try to slip from Joel’s hold to sit up.

You’re able to get his arm off you enough until only his fingertips graze your waist, and push yourself up onto your elbow to sit up more. You shuffle your legs to slide them off the side of your bed before you feel Joel’s arm reach back around your waist to grab a firm grip on your stomach and pull you back into his chest, closer than you two were a moment ago.

You wince, feeling bad for having woken him up, but that feeling melts away as he mumbles into your hair. “The hell you think you’re goin’, darlin’?”

Your breath catches in your throat as he speaks, sleep making him sound raspier than usual—a deeper voice that vibrates through his chest and against your body, making your heart stutter as you instinctively press your thighs together again. You hear and feel him let out a sigh behind you as he nuzzles his face into the back of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I was gonna get up and–”

“Mm… No you’re not,” he says, tightening his hold around you. His southern drawl coats his voice even more in his sleepy state, something you think you could hear for the rest of your life.

You bite back a smile at his words, raising an eyebrow before turning your head to try and look back at him. “Oh really?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “You’re too warm. Need you to stay.”

His pouting tone has you lose your fight to stifle a laugh.

“Joel…” you draw out in a whisper. “I really have to pee.”

He lets out a stubborn whine that grows in volume as he stretches his body, ending in a loud groan as he moves himself to lay on his back, freeing you from his hold. You sit up in bed and look back at him lying there with the covers bunched at his waist, one arm slung over his eyes while the other spreads out over the pillow you just had your head on, lips swollen and downturned in a small pout. You wish you could take a picture of this moment—his soft, sleepy features mixed with thick, toned arms… 

Why did you have to get up again? 

“Hurry up and go pee. Need you back ‘ere ‘fore I start gettin’ frustrated.”

Right. That’s what you were getting up for.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dig your palms into your comforter and carefully push yourself to a standing position, legs wobbling slightly as you feel your muscles throb from the soreness.

Reaching down to take a drink of water, you feel eyes on you and shift your gaze to find Joel squinting one eye open underneath his arm, watching you with a smirk at the weakened state of balance he caused. 

“Don’t even fucking start,” you lightheartedly warn. His smirk widens into a full grin, chest moving as he lets out a deep laugh before he leans his head further back into your pillow and shuts his eyes.

Cocky motherfucker.

You walk over to your bathroom, closing the door before you go to pee. Moving to stand in front of your mirror to wash your hands after, you see marks from the previous night—light bruises littering your neck where Joel had sucked on the skin. You lift your shirt up to see very faint finger-shaped bruising at your side, reminders of the grip he had on you in an act of passion and need. You trace your fingers gently over them, not feeling any pain, but rather pride that something was left on you to show you it was real.

A ghost of a smile grows on your face before you open the door and find Joel in the same position you had left him, chest rising and falling steady as if he fell back asleep. You take a moment to stare at him, your heart aching. 

You walk around to his side of the bed, bending down to pick up and put away some of the clothing that had been hastily thrown across your room. Straightening back up, you feel a hand grab yours to pull you down, a yelp escaping you as the fabric you hold slips from your grasp.

Joel shifts his body to lay on the opposite side he woke up on, pulling you down to lie on your side and facing him. Your mind catches up with the movement and you sigh longingly. Your face sags into your pillow as he places one arm around your waist, palm spread across your back as he pulls you closer to him, the other arm bent underneath the shared pillow.

His face is mere inches from yours, so close you can feel soft air that he exhales from his nose, chest moving slowly against yours. You take the moment to admire his face—eyes shut and features softened into a tranquil state. Face free of any harsh lines, a contrast from the scowl and frown he tends to have permanently on his face. You’re stunned by how beautiful and perfect he looks. This is what he deserves, you think. This feeling, free of any worry and struggle. You wish you could pocket the serenity of this moment and be able to give it to him again and again.

Feeling your stare, Joel slowly blinks his eyes open, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks. The moment his eyes meet yours, a sleepy smile causes his lips to quirk up.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Your throat feels tight as his words overwhelm you. 

“Hi.” 

The memory of the similar greeting from last night hits you both, Joel urgently leaning his face into yours to slot his lips against yours like a puzzle. You sigh into his mouth, body melting at his touch until he pulls away far too soon for your liking. “How you feelin’, darlin’?” 

You nod. “Good… really good,” you finish, feeling shy at your admittance.

Joel’s smile grows. “Me too, baby.”

His honesty without hesitation makes your head spin, relishing in his touch and his closeness to you. You never thought of yourself as a touchy person. The opposite, if you were being honest. Touch was always scarce to you, not having anyone close to you to provide a loving touch. Almost every touch you can remember was harsh, whether you were being grabbed by infected or human threats. The only other touch beside Joel’s that wasn’t threatening was from Tommy and Eugene the day they found you and brought you to Jackson, and the occasional hug from Ellie. Over the past year of being Joel’s friend, being touched by him became a common occurrence for you, realizing that he always seemed to have a hand on or hovering over you any time he was close.

“Want me to go downstairs and make some coffee?” You offer, your thoughts returning to the present.

“Oh, I thought you only drank tea,” he teases you.

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to make a sarcastic comment back, when you hear the sound of your front door opening followed by footsteps. The noise makes you both freeze in fear, before you hear your name being called. “You home, honey?”

Maria.

You both widen your eyes as if caught, hearing her say, “I tried knocking and got no response, and your front door wasn’t locked… Just wanted to check in on you.” Her footsteps sound closer as you realize she was heading to walk up your steps.

The realization makes you both jump up, quickly scrambling to throw on clothes in a panic, thanking whatever higher being there was that you at least remembered to close your bedroom door before you had gone to sleep. 

Maria calls your name out again in concern, before you call out in response in a high-pitched voice. “Ye– yes! I’m home, sorry, I…”

You trail off as you search through your drawers trying to find pants to throw on. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. I slept in, but I’ll be downstairs in a second!”

Voice a mix of worry and confusion from your tone, she responds, “Okay, no worries. I’ll wait for you in your kitchen.”

Hearing her footsteps retreat, you whip around to see Joel struggling to put his leg through his jeans, hopping on one foot slightly. You whisper yell at him, “You forgot to lock my fucking door?!”

He looks around at the floor, trying to remember the moment last night where he was meant to leave but turned around and kissed you. “I… I mean I was kinda fuckin’ distracted, sweetheart!”

Your panic doesn’t falter, looking around your room for some form of escape while waving your arms out. “Okay, okay just… just stay up here and I’ll go reassure her I’m fine.”

He nods in agreement before you turn and reach for your bedroom door knob, being cut off when he hisses out a whispered, “Wait!”

You turn, confused until he points to your shirt. “You're still wearing my shirt.”

You look down before muttering a curse. As quick as possible, you dig through your sweater draw before you throw on a random one after removing Joel’s shirt.

You take one last look at him before he gives you a quick once-over, offering a thumbs up before you open your door.

Quickly jogging down the stairs, neck reaching to look into your kitchen entrance to see a sign of her in there, you speed walk into your kitchen to see Maria leaning against your island. You give her a big smile, voice cracking as you say, “Hi!”

Her eyebrows twitch into a furrow as she gives you a small, confused smile. “Hi… you’re oddly chipper?”

You take a gulp, settling your nerves. “Oh, just… Ellie was over yesterday to show me some comic books, so… I’m in a good mood I suppose.” You hope that sounds convincing. 

Seeming to believe you, she nods, her expression settling into a warm expression. “I’m really glad, honey. Sorry to stop by unannounced, I wanted to see how you were holding up today and got worried when your door wasn’t locked.”

You nod in false knowing. “Yeah… yeah I was super tired last night so I guess I forgot to lock it before I went to bed,” you end with a shrug and a soft laugh.

A soft clatter is heard from upstairs, Maria looking up there confused as you tense up. 

“My towel rack keeps falling,” you rush out. She gives you a quizzical look as you add, “Damn screws loose—been forgetting to get that fixed.”

Looking slightly amused, Maria says, “Maybe Joel can get that fixed for you–know he’s been working on a lot of things here.” You give her a firm smile before she continues, “Well, I wasn’t going to keep you long. Had time to stop by before I have to head for a town meeting.” She begins walking out of the kitchen and towards your front door with you following in tow. “Happy to see you’re feeling alright.”

Walking past your couch, she stops short. You follow her gaze to see Joel’s guitar leaning against the back of your couch.

For fuck’s sake.

“Ellie brought that over here yesterday. She’s been wanting to teach me, so… showed me a few notes. Guess she left it here before she went to Jesse’s place.”

Maria nods and looks over her shoulder at you, giving you a smile. “Guitar playing and comic books. It makes sense you were so tired.”

You try to return her smile as genuine as possible, your nerves coursing through you like crazy as you anticipate her leaving to prevent an awkward encounter.

You open the door for her, the two of you saying your goodbyes as she walks down the steps. As you start to shut your door, she calls your name, turning around like she remembered something. Raising your eyebrows, you wait for her to speak.

“By the way, you might want to wear a different sweater if you go into town today… maybe something with a turtleneck,” she says, eyes dropping to your neck and pointing to her own.

You freeze, slowly looking down to realize the top you hastily grabbed happened to be one of the only scoop-neck sweaters you own, currently showcasing the purple and red splotches that span your chest and neck.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

You reach your hand up to your neck, holding the base before you look back up at her with a tight-lipped smile, cheeks red from being caught as you notice the smirk on her face. “Also, there’s some clothes on your stairs. Could be a tripping hazard.”

Oh… she knew the whole time.

“Thanks, Maria…” you quietly mutter. 

She laughs with a shake of her head, making her way down your walkway onto the street.

You close the door, leaning both your palms against the door and lightly bang your forehead against it. Behind you, you hear the sound of footsteps hesitantly walking down your stairs. You turn to see Joel standing at the base of the stairs with his arms crossed over his chest, now dressed in his jeans from yesterday and the shirt you went to sleep in, leaning against the railing with a similar smirk that Maria had a moment ago.

“Heard ya got a towel rack that needs fixin’.”

You watch as he tries to suppress a laugh while you give him a warning look. You point up in the air, spinning your finger around before moving to point it at him while saying, “This was all your fault.”

No longer able to hold back, he barks out a loud laugh at that, shifting into a small chuckle when you try to march past him and into the kitchen. He stops you by reaching out for your hand with his, your face pouting as you let out a whine.

“Hey,” he says with a wide smile on his face. “It’s okay, darlin’, she doesn’t care.”

You fight the urge to stomp your foot as you place your palms on his chest. “I know, just… that’s so awkward. What if she tells Tommy?”

Joel’s expression doesn’t falter. “So?”

At his nonchalant response, you realize how stupid you sound. You suppose a part of you thought Joel wouldn’t want people knowing about you two, if there even was a “you two”. 

His calm demeanor transfers onto you, causing you to huff out in response, the anxiety of the awkward experience leaving you as you drop your forehead onto his chest. Joel laughs, soothingly rubbing your back with his hands before he pushes you back by your shoulders. “Why don’t we keep things just between us for now? Savor the moment and all that. Would that make you feel better?”

“Us and Maria,” you correct, grumbling slightly. Your response only makes Joel’s grin widen. “That’s right. Us and Maria.”

You nod because in truth, you don’t mind Maria knowing. It’s more the embarrassment of being caught before you can even figure out what you and Joel are now—before you can even enjoy yourselves without others knowing.

Cutting you out of your thoughts, Joel offers, “How ‘bout I cook us up some breakfast? Promise there will be both tea and coffee.”

It annoys you, almost. How easy he’s able to calm you. How he has the ability to ease your worries in an instant. 

You nod and let him take your hand to lead you into the kitchen where you watch in comfortable silence as he moves so effortlessly around the space, having been in your home often enough that it’s like he was made to be here. Finishing cooking up some eggs and toast for you two, with tea and coffee, he informs you of his plans for the day.

“Promised Ellie I’d fix Dina’s family’s mailbox today, so I gotta go home to change before I do that. Then I might get some late lunch with Tommy down at the Tipsy Bison. You wanna join?”

Having finished your meal, you listen to him with your head propped in the palm of your hand, leaning your elbows on the table. “No, that’s okay,” you say. “I have some shopping to do. I need some new winter clothes—lots of mine are all tattered from last year so I wanna get ahead of that before fall starts. Plus, apparently I have to pick up some more coffee grounds on the way home.”

Joel smiles at you, nodding in understanding before he clears his throat and you watch his expression shift to uncertainty. He sets his fork down, grabbing his coffee cup before looking at you. “These next couple days I got some supply runs to make with Tommy, but I was wonderin’ if you were free over the weekend?”

You think about it briefly before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll be free. You got something in mind?”

“Was just thinking… Would you, um… would you wanna come over for dinner?”

Your eyebrows go up a bit at his question. “Dinner?”

His words come out more sure this time. “Yeah, I want you over for dinner. Make ya a proper meal and what not. Like… a date.” At the last part of the sentence, he shifts his eyes down to his now empty coffee mug.

The sentiment of the offer, along with his shyness that comes with it, makes your heart pound. A smile grows on your face as you try not to seem too excited while letting your voice slip into a soft and teasing tone. “You wanna take me on a date, Miller?”

His cheeks burn red at your words and teasing tone. “Yeah… I really do, darlin’.” He looks back up at you with a shy smile, relief coursing over him as he sees your smile. 

“I’d love that.”

His smile grows as he stands up, taking your plates before washing them in your sink. You both fall into easy conversation as you help dry the clean dishes—Joel only giving you grief for helping him once, muttering an, “I got it, darlin’, don’t worry.”

Progress.

Needing to get to Dina’s, you walk him to your door where he grabs his coat that lies on your stairs from last night, taking his guitar with him before stopping at your door. He leans down to plant a slow, long kiss to your lips. Your body melts into him on instinct, head tilting back as Joel lets out a hum of approval at the feeling. 

He pulls away, kissing the tip of your nose before smiling at you. “Shouldn’t be too busy this week, so I’ll see you ‘round ‘til Saturday night, yeah?”

You nod, your brain feeling fuzzy. “You got it, Miller.”

His smile grows at your agreeance, hand twisting your doorknob to open it, you watch him as he walks across the street and into his own home. You close your door and turn around, body alight with anticipation for the weekend.

The date never came. 

It wasn’t Joel’s fault, at all. In fact, he was getting increasingly frustrated as the days went on, which only amused you.

Those couple day supply runs with Tommy turned into finding a few abandoned posts out west, which led to more groups needing to go over there and collect everything to bring back home—Joel included. 

When they came back to gather more crew members to take on the journey, he was able to stop by your house for a few hours. You softly scolded him, saying he should spend the little time he had to rest. “This is restin’,” he’d said as he sprawled on your couch next to you, propping his face on his hand as the other played with your hair. He said he wanted to hear about your days, so you did as he watched you attentively. 

Boring, you told him, because it was. Usual stable work, helping out around town, getting some food from the markets and spending some time with Ellie whenever she got out of school.

You didn’t include the many hours you spent sitting in your house looking out the window and eyeing the clock, as if it would make time go by any faster and bring him back to Jackson any sooner.

So, Joel had to move the date to the following week when they got back. The same week that just so happened to be when the mess hall’s plumbing system broke. 

You remember that Monday morning when Joel had come to your door with some pastries Ellie brought home from Dina’s. He was all warm smiles with tired eyes—his body sagging a bit from the weight of the previous week’s labor. Regardless, he still had made time to see you that morning. The first time he’d seen you in days ever since they came back the second time, and he spent all of twenty minutes in your kitchen before there was knocking at your front door. 

You opened it to find Tommy, who said he was looking for Joel and couldn’t find him in his own home. The younger Miller looked disheveled and panicked, but annoyed. Hearing the noise, Joel had walked to your door and immediately rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother.

Tommy started mentioning something about busted pipes, the cooks not being able to get everything out on time due to the lack of water, and that Joel’s help was needed and urgent.

“I know, man. Last thing I want today is to have to deal with this after we just got back but it’s urgent,” Tommy said, pleading with his eyes.

Joel sighed deeply, looking at you with remorse which you quickly brushed off. “Don’t worry about me. You go be the town’s Bob the Builder and when it’s all done you can finally rest.”

He softly scoffed at your comment and promised he’d see you that night. Except, there ended up being more problems with the pipes than was originally thought, so he got home late and stopped at your house to tell you it was going to be a three day job. 

You could see the frustration in his tone and body language, mixed with the longing in his eyes—similar to how you were feeling on the inside. More than anything you wanted to be alone with him, and you could see he wanted the same thing, but you didn’t want to rush him or make him feel bad. Things happen, and you reassured you would see him when you see him.

The next couple days passed by slower. You would stop by at the mess hall to catch a glimpse of him—bringing him lunch or coffee as an excuse to be close to him, even if briefly. 

You two were in public, though, and neither of you wanted to share what you had just yet. Because you hadn’t had a proper moment together since that night, it was agreed that for right now, you wanted to keep it between you two.

Plus, Maria. Maria, who, while quiet about it, couldn’t help but send you a knowing smile when she saw you come in each day to bring something for Joel. 

The first time you did it, she made a remark about having nothing for the others. Thankfully, she whispered it to you so no one else had heard, but that didn’t stop your face from growing warm. You would look at her and see the teasing nature in her features, but there was also a softness to them.

It was her who you had gone to about your conflicting feelings for Joel. She was the one who you had confided in. And, despite her own worries about Joel, she was honest in what she thought he felt for you—something you’d be forever grateful for.

So you returned her smirks, and you tried to ignore the way she’d watch when you spoke with Joel, only to look over and see her with that same suppressed excitement on her face. The look of, I told you so.

Joel was subtle about things when he saw you. A lingering hold on your hand as you gave him a coffee mug. His body would stand just inches closer than it needed to be. Stopping out back to get some fresh air, when really he just wanted to kiss you without eyes watching. It was killing you, really. The burning itch to feel him and be close to him only grew each passing day.

When the job was done, and everything was fixed, Joel came to your house first. He trudged through your doors and fell onto your couch, throwing his head back and sighing deeply with his eyes closed and the heels of his palms digging into his shut eyes. You made him a plate of the dinner you were preparing for yourself, wishing you had made more, but you thought the project wouldn’t be done for another day.

The two of you spent that night talking and watching some movie in your living room as you ate, but his eyes grew heavy and you forced him to go to sleep. He only argued a couple times before he asked, with his brown eyes round and big, if he could stay here with you. You could’ve rolled your eyes at his dramatic puppy dog look, but really there was nothing you wanted more either. 

When he washed up and got dressed for bed, he sank deep into your mattress and in your arms before sleep took him swiftly with you following suit not long after—feeling like you could breathe better with him there.

The next day, Joel woke up practically bouncing on his feet. You squinted at him, wondering what he was so excited about, when he mentioned the date. That’s when your eyes fell shut and you cursed. “I promised Ellie I’d help her with her art project today. She has to do a portrait of someone in town by tomorrow.”

His face flickered with sadness for a moment before he smiled. “That’s alright, darlin’. Can’t say I’m mad at the idea of a portrait of you being made.” You smiled at him when he finished his sentence with a wink. “How’s tomorrow night sound?”

“Perfect,” you replied, relief flooding you.

Clean, warm clothes are a luxury that you’ve quickly gotten used to during your time in Jackson. Having a closet and drawers filled with different colors and fabrics was something so rare in this world. 

Most times you only had the clothes on your body—the material stained and torn from blood and dirt. Over your time here, you had begun to pick out different articles of clothing that felt more suited to you, yet the simplicity stuck with you, keeping your choices to a minimum.

You’ve never regretted that more until now.

You look over at the clock on your bedside table for the hundredth time, reading 6:17 p.m., only two minutes from when you last looked. Turning back to your drawers, you begin to dig through them again, a frustrated groan ripping from your throat at the fact that you didn’t magically have more clothes appear.

You had finished all your plans for the day, coming back home around five in the evening to shower and get dressed for your dinner with Joel. Washing up didn’t take long. What’s taking so long is trying to find something somewhat nice, something that isn’t just a neutral colored shirt and a pair of jeans. Would’ve been nice if you thought of this problem while out shopping for clothes for the upcoming winter, you think.

You slam your drawer shut, marching over to your small closet door to flip through the hangers in there. God, how did you have nothing nice? People here had dress shirts and dresses, why the hell did you not have any? 

You know why—because you’ve never cared. Your appearance never bothered you in the slightest, seeing yourself and your clothing as only ever something that either helped or hurt your chances of survival. 

Tapping your foot and biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes quickly scan for something that looks somewhat decent, like you put thought and effort behind it. Your best option right now seems to be some deep burgundy long-sleeve top and the nicest pair of dark jeans you can find paired with some combat boots.

Finished dressing, you walk yourself over to your mirror, looking over yourself with hypercriticism—uneasiness consuming you. You let out a sigh before deciding to stop overthinking it. For almost two weeks, you had been anticipating the evening that kept needing to get pushed off. It’s just dinner, you tell yourself. A date. You can do a date.

Stopping at your bathroom mirror to try and fix your hair, you make your way back to your dresser to find some necklaces Maria had given you for your birthday. Looking at your clock, you see you have about twenty minutes still before Joel shows up, so you decide to wait by fixing some stuff up around your house.

… Or pace in your kitchen, biting your nails nervously. Both options seemed productive.

Time seemed to move slower as you kept walking in circles around your kitchen island, eyes flicking to your clock hung on a wall here. Two minutes before seven, you hear three knocks on your door. The sound immediately puts you into action, walking quickly to your door before pausing with your hand hovering over the handle. You try and force yourself to relax, taking a composing deep breath in before slowly opening the door.

You were met with Joel standing on your door mat, shifting on his feet with his left hand in his pocket and the other placed behind his back. Taking in his form, you see his attire of his typical combat boots on, faded dark wash jeans, and a black buttoned-up collared shirt—noticing on the arm that was exposed that he had the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, making you focus on his toned forearms, your throat going dry at the skin.

You lift your eyes to see his hair slightly damp, the waves pushed back with a few stray curls dipping in front of his forehead, and a freshly trimmed beard. He smelled of sandalwood and vanilla and whiskey and… you needed to calm down.

Eyes meeting his own, you find him looking over you as well as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

“Hi, darlin’.”

The sound of his honey-coated voice makes you feel like your knees could give out. Whatever nerves you had immediately dissipates at the sight of him. At hearing his voice. You aren’t given a chance to respond when he moves the arm placed behind his back to showcase what looks like a hand-picked bunch of flowers tied with a white ribbon—red roses, asters, and poppies organized neatly.

You stare at the flowers, lips parting open slightly as you feel your throat constrict with emotion. “You got me flowers?”

A sheepish smile grows on his face. “It’s silly, I know, but… what can I say? I’m an old-fashioned kinda guy.”

You shake your head as you try to prevent yourself from tearing up. “It’s not silly. They’re beautiful, Joel… thank you.”

Hearing your reassurance that you like them, Joel’s smile transforms into a more confident one and he gently hands you the hand-made bouquet. You take them and bring them to your nose. “Where did you get these?”

Joel shrugs with one shoulder. “Jackson’s greenhouses have roses sometimes, so I stopped there. Luckily they had ‘em, and the poppies I had seen on a trail outside Jackson—went with Tommy earlier to pick ‘em.”

You find yourself unable to speak and Joel just takes over. “You wanna put ‘em in your place or bring ‘em with us?” He trails off, frowning to himself. “Shit… I should’ve had some set up for dinner too.”

You smile at his nervousness and offer, “How about I put them in a vase in my kitchen, and take a couple to bring to yours?”

“Sounds good to me, darlin’,” he says with a bright smile.

You quickly rush in to fill a vase with water and put the flowers in them before taking out five or so to bring with you, and walk back to meet Joel outside. He gives you a soft smile when you turn back from closing your door, and places his hand at the small of your back to guide you both across the street to his home.

He ushers you inside first and the smell of food coming from the kitchen hits you instantly. You peer into his dining room, which is almost never used, to find one of the seats on the longer side of the rectangular table has been moved over to sit close to the chair at the head of the table. Placed on the table in front of the seats are pairs of utensils, napkins, and empty wine glasses. Candles are set around the table to add light to the room along with the tall lamp that sits in the corner. 

You look back to him, stunned, and find him eyeing your reaction for reassurance. With a soft laugh he leads you over to the seat at the head of the table, pulling out your chair for you before pushing you in gently.

“Let me go put these up and then I’ll set up the plates,” he says, before taking the small bunch of flowers into the kitchen and soon comes back with them in a tall mason jar filled with water. After placing them in front of your two seats, he kisses the top of your head and disappears into the kitchen behind you. 

You take the moment to look around, taking in the details that surround you that he clearly put thought into. You can’t recall a time where anyone had put in so much effort to prepare something special for you, even from when you were a child before the outbreak.

Behind you, you hear the sounds of plates clanging and pots banging before Joel’s footsteps appear. Rounding the table, he places a dish in front of yours and his seat, filled with what looks like steak, roasted potatoes, and carrots prepared on the plate. He walks over to his wine rack in the corner of the room, pulling what he knows is your favorite red wine, and pouring them into the glasses set before you both

You take a deep breath, looking at Joel as he sits into the seat on your left. “Joel…”

He looks up at you with nervous but kind eyes as you try to find the proper words. “This is… this is all so nice I–” You have to swallow before adding, “I just… thank you.”

A smile graces his face, eyes glittering in the warm lighting. “‘Course, darlin’,” he says softly, and like it was the simplest gesture ever. “Now I ain’t the best cook, but I tried to make somethin’ that seemed simple enough,” he ends with a laugh.

You pick up your utensils and begin cutting into the food. “I’m sure it tastes as good as it looks.”

You were right. The meal was delicious with the wine pairing amazingly. As the two of you continue to eat your meals, you dive into conversations about yourselves, things happening in town, properly talking about how your days have been in between your previous rushed interactions. Joel goes into the workings of the plumbing crisis—complaining about some of the other workers who had attempted to fix the issue before Joel and Tommy got involved.

After sharing a bit about the topic, Joel sets his fork and knife down onto his plate before speaking. “So… Tommy knows.”

Your silence as you freeze when bringing your glass to your mouth is the only response Joel gets for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Looks like Maria told him.”

“What did he say about it?”

At your question, he rolls his eyes when recalling the memory. “Nothin’ bad. Mainly just got on my ass about, ‘It took you long enough’,” he ends in a scoff before frowning. “Started sayin’ some shit about me gettin’ somethin’ called… eject… ejection dis…”

You choke on your wine, looking up at Joel with wide eyes to see him holding back a snicker as his expression sits between amusement and concern at your reaction. “Erectile dysfunction?!” You blurt out after you catch your breath.

Joel looks up at you confused, nodding. “Yeah, that. The fuck is that?”

You wipe away the bits of wine that are sliding down the sides of your mouth and swallow before looking down at the tablecloth. “Um… it’s like, when you’re older…” you trail off at the end with a wince, feeling bad for the words. “And, like, your… penis struggles to… ya know.”

Joel’s eyes widen and flash with anger before bringing his fist down on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, muttering, “Fuckin’ dickhead.” A second later, he looks up at you with his brows furrowed. “Wait, how the hell you know ‘bout that?”

You shrug. “Health class, I guess?”

He looks off and sighs. “Well shit. Guess that’s what I get for droppin’ out.” Another thought seems to come to his mind, shaking his head in confusion. “Wait, wait… darlin’, how the hell you know about this… ‘erection malfunction’ shit, but looked confused when I wanted my mouth on ya?”

The crassness throws you off guard a moment before you reply, “I don’t know… they didn’t really teach us about that stuff, I suppose. It was mainly just periods for the girls and erections for the guys.”

Joel shakes his head in disbelief at that. “Shit’s fuckin’ stupid. Ain’t nothin’ valuable came from those damn classes.” 

He focuses back on your meals, placing his hands on the table and standing up when he notices you both have finished. Grabbing your plates, Joel begins to walk into the kitchen which prompts you to get up with the intention of following him. He turns sharply back at you, giving you a look of disapproval. “Hey, uh-uh, sit your ass back down,” he says playfully.

You give him a deadpan look. “What, so you always have to wash my dishes yet I can’t help you with yours?”

Joel looks at you like the answer is obvious, nodding his head to tell you to sit back down. “I don’t have to wash your own dishes, I just want to. What I have to do is take care of your properly tonight by makin’ you dinner and putin’ away my own damn dishes,” he says with exaggeration. “Now, sit, I have a surprise for you.” You roll your eyes playfully, sitting down and waiting for him to come back.

After a few minutes, you hear him returning behind you telling you to close your eyes. “Is this where you kill me?” You ask, eyes already shutting.

You hear him laugh before placing something in front of you. “Don’t have any immediate plans for that yet, darlin’,” he teases.

You smirk and feel him sit back in his seat, telling you to open your eyes. It takes you a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, but when you do, you notice a plate of about ten pieces of…

You gasp in disbelief, snapping your head up to Joel with your jaw dropped and eyes wide. At your reaction, his cheeks flush and he gives a small smirk, looking proud of himself.

“Is that… Joel, are those chocolate-covered strawberries?” You ask incredulously.

He nods. “They sure are, baby.”

You begin looking between him and the fruits placed in front of you that are drizzled with ropes of chocolate, trying to figure out how. 

Noticing your stunned silence, he speaks up. “I remember you sayin’ your favorite dessert from before was chocolate-covered strawberries… Now, the strawberries were easy to get from the farmer’s corner, obviously. But–”

“But the chocolate?!” You half screech out.

Laughing at your reaction, Joel continues. “Yes, the chocolate… Eugene somehow had some cacao beans. He showed Maria, Tommy, and me how to make some chocolate a few weeks back and, well…” He trails off and gestures to the plate. “S’why I was real annoyed with our date gettin’ pushed back. Wanted to make sure I had the proper chance to get these made for ya.”

Joel grows more nervous at your expression and silence. Trying to minimize the effort, he says, “M’sure it’s not as sweet as it could be, but–”

“Joel,” you interrupt firmly, looking at him with big eyes. “You. Made. Chocolate.”

Joel takes your tone for happiness, his nerves calming a bit. “I did,” he softly says.

You keep looking back and forth between him and the strawberries, mouth fluttering open and closed, wishing you knew enough words in the English language to express how you feel inside. 

Feeling Joel reach out to take your hand in his gently, he speaks your name to grab your attention. “Was this okay?”

You look at him like he’s crazy. “What the fuck kind of question is that, Joel? This is…” 

Unsure what to say, you lurch yourself forward, bunching up the front of his shirt as you grip the fabric there, pulling him into you for a kiss. You hear a surprised sound in the back of his throat, body freezing for a moment at the unexpected act before leaning into you and meeting you with the same amount of force.

You linger on him before pulling away, the two of you breathing rapidly as you stare at each other’s lips, the space between your faces small. You feel warm all over as you realize how flushed your cheeks feel, having a feeling it wasn’t just because of the couple of glasses of wine you had been nursing.

Swallowing the saliva that has accumulated in your throat, you slowly lean back into your seat and notice Joel’s own flushed appearance—how dilated his pupils are, even in the dim light. 

Joel matches your own gulp, clearing his throat before gesturing to the dessert. “Help yourself, darlin’.”

You reach to grab a piece, staring at it in awe before wrapping your lips around the fruit and biting down, a moan leaving you instinctively as the sweetness fills your mouth, eyes falling shut. He was right—it wasn’t as sweet as standard chocolate might’ve been years ago. But you didn’t care. It was still the best thing you’ve ever tasted in decades.

You peer up at Joel and find him staring at the dessert being held up to your lips, his mouth parted open slightly as he holds a clenched fist on the table beside his wine glass.

“Good?” He asks, voice thick and hoarse. You eagerly nod. “Very good. Joel this is… God, I can’t believe you made this.”

He seems to steady his thoughts a bit more, chuckling before taking his own strawberry as the two of you continue to finish the plate.

A short while later, strawberries finished and the wine bottle empty, Joel takes your hand before leading you upstairs. “Don’t think I’ve ever properly showed you the upstairs.”

He was right—all your time spent here was either in the kitchen or living room, and almost, if not always, with Ellie present. The most you recall is when you had come up here drunk one night, taking back your sweater when you saw Joel’s guitar.

Making your way to a door, you notice the small tables along the open space at the top of the stairs—photos of Joel and Tommy placed on them along with pictures of wildlife hung on the walls. Details that you hadn’t noticed in your drunken state before.

He pushes open the door to his office revealing desks along the walls, a makeshift workshop, you realize. On the desks lay carvings of wood—really beautiful wood carvings in all sorts of shapes. Reference photos that seem to be ripped out from books showcase different animals and are pinned above the desk. Wolves, deer, moose, horses… all meticulously carved to unbelievable accuracy, the art leaving you in awe. On another table lay pieces of guitars and guitar strings as well as cleaning equipment, paintbrushes, and different tools for them.

“Do you make guitars?” You ask with a soft gasp, stunned.

“Not quite. I find pieces and refurbish ‘em to make ‘em look and sound more new.”

That bit of information makes your heart swell in size, astounded at how privately talented and creative this man was. 

You look over to see a chair in one corner of the room with a stand placed in front of it—sheet music booklets are opened and propped up there with guitars hung on the wall it sits against.

“Joel… these are… fuck. This is all so beautiful,” you say, turning to him and lifting your brows in emphasis.

His cheeks and the tops of his ear redden even more at your words, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Guess I should start makin’ ya somethin’. Never really expected people to find interest in this stuff.”

You look at him in disbelief at his doubt. “This is… so fucking cool.”

He smiles bashfully and leads you to a closed door at the end of the hallway—a door you previously thought was his bedroom.

He opens it, making you realize you were right. As you walk into a large entryway, you see a long dresser sitting at the end of the space with paintings propped up on the sides right below a wide window. To your right is a spacious walk-in closet—a quick peek inside showing you the many coats and flannels you have seen him wear everyday, including his classic light brown winter coat with fur lining the collar. 

Past the closet, closer to the dresser, is his bathroom. Glancing inside, you see it’s also fairly big with two sinks and mirrors at the vanity, and a bathtub with a showerhead that matches yours. 

To the left of the entrance to the area is his actual bedroom. A tall and wide open entryway showcases his large bed placed against the left side of the wall, a huge painting of horses in a field hanging over the headboard, and a big carpet laying underneath his bed. Across from his bed is another wide window with a lounge chair sitting in the corner right beside a small desk with a lamp. Other details you notice about the room include the tall bookcase that has a combination of books and wood carvings, a chest at the foot of his bed with a cushion for seating, floating bookshelves with more stacked books, a wood carving of the state of Texas hanging on his wall, and a box of vinyls next to a guitar propped up beside his bookcase.

The main thing that grabs your attention is, back on the dresser directly ahead of you when you first walked in here, two photo frames sitting on either side of a wood carving of an eagle. You walk towards it and hear Joel take in a sharp breath and hold it as he hovers behind you, but makes no move to stop you. 

You pick up the photo on the right of the eagle to see a picture of Ellie and Joel at the stables, Ellie seeming to be around the age she was when you first arrived in Jackson. Smiling at the glimpse of his memories, you set it down before you look over to the photo on the left. 

You feel Joel walk up behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and leaning his head onto your shoulder. You frown in confusion as you pick up the other photo, seeing a young man in a grey shirt, arm slung around a young girl wearing a blue and white striped jersey, holding up a trophy and a peace sign, both of them smiling wide on what looks like a school field.

Your expression morphs into realization—the gasp that leaves you making Joel’s grip around you tighten, inhaling deeply behind you.

The man, you realize, is Joel. A younger Joel, but taking a closer look, it’s impossible to not recognize his beautiful brown eyes and charming smile. And the girl…

“Is that…” you trail off, fingers ghosting over her face in the photo.

“... Yeah,” Joel says into your ear, voice cracking. “Was after she won a soccer tournament.”

Your throat tightens and you say the only thing you thought when you first picked up the photo. “She’s beautiful, Joel.”

You feel a shudder from his body against your back, a shaky breath leaving him. “Must’ve gotten it from her mom.” 

You reach your right hand up to the side of his face over your right shoulder and turn your face back to look at him, noticing the glassy look in his eyes that you assume matches your own.

“I see so much of you in her, Joel. She’s as beautiful as you are,” you say, sincerity filling your tone.

Joel stares at you, eyes flickering between both of yours and his lips parted in surprise at your words. He blinks furiously and he clears his throat—the sound of your voice as you say it makes it hard to not believe you.

You look back down to the photo, about to place it back down when you notice what’s on his left wrist in the picture.

“Hey,” you softly say. “That’s your watch, isn’t it?”

You feel Joel nod against your shoulder. “It is. Sarah got it fixed up for me for my… um, as a surprise, I mean. It’s since gotten cracked and don’t work right anymore, but…”

Without needing to finish his thought, you understand what he means—placing the photo down and turning yourself in his arms. You interlock your hands behind his back, leaning your chest into his as you tilt your head back to look up at him. He lifts his hands to hold the sides of your face as you say, “Thank you for this.”

He stands there a moment, silent, looking at you intensely until you speak up again. “Thank you for showing me these parts of your life. For allowing me to see glimpses of your life with these two girls.”

Joel’s eyes flick between yours rapidly, sucking in his breath as his brows push together and form a hard line. He looks down to your mouth, leaning into you to press a slow, sweet kiss on your lips. You instantly reciprocate, matching his movements with your own. 

He pulls away, taking your hand and leading you towards his room, encouraging you to take a deeper look around as he sits on his bed. You walk over to his bookcase, head tilted to read the titles of the books on the spines. You shift your attention to the box of vinyls, bending down to flip through them for a minute.

When you straighten back up, you notice a robe on the back of Joel’s bedroom door that makes you want to smile at the thought of him wearing it. You walk past Joel sitting on his bed, noticing him watching you meticulously as you walk up to the bedside table on the side of the bed he sits on. You reach down to grab a book that lays on the table. An Idiot’s Guide To Space, you read.

Holding it up in the air, you look back at him questionably as he lets out a small laugh. “Ellie’s doin’. The kiddo loves space so much I decided to try to learn more about it.”

It’s moments like these when he says something like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that makes you wonder if he knows how thoughtful of a human being he is.

You lean to place the book back down on the small table and Joel speaks up again. “Speaking of Ellie…”

You walk a few steps over to him when his hand reaches out to grab yours and pull you close to him—stumbling a bit at the tug and placing your hands on his shoulder as you steady yourself. He spreads his legs open to have you standing over him between his thighs as he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and pulls your body to arch into him, his chin resting on your stomach as he looks up at you. You look down at the sight, feeling your throat go dry from the way he’s looking at you.

“I think we should tell Ellie first before she hears anythin’ from Tommy and Maria,” he says.

You nod your head as your hands move to the back of his head to absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft curls. “Okay,” you respond. “We can try and find some time this week to tell her.”

Joel’s eyes shut at the feeling of your touch, opening them a moment later for you to see more black in them than brown. Your stomach twists in knots at the look on his face that reminds you so much of how he looked at you that night, weeks ago, and you feel his touch around your thighs burning your skin through your jeans.

He moves one hand from the back of your thighs up to the small of your back, pressing enough to cause you to fall forward at the loss of balance. You try to right yourself as your knees fall into the bed on either side of his hips, your hands moving from his hair to his shoulders to try and take some of your weight off him. 

This position causes you to straddle him, a fact that Joel seems more than pleased by based on the smirk that crosses his face. He moves his hands to place one on your hip and the other underneath your chin, your face now level with his as you both sit vertically on the bed. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, the touch making you unconsciously part your mouth ever so slightly, Joel taking the chance to dip the very tip of his thumb between your lips. On instinct, your lips close around his finger, bringing out a deep sound that mimics a cross between a groan and a growl from the back of Joel’s throat.

Swallowing deeply, he whispers in a raspy tone, “Did you wanna spend the night here with me?”

You nod without thinking, mouth opening as he slips his thumb out from between your lips for you to stutter out a response. “Ye–yes…”

He nods, eyes trained on your lips. “Good… I want you here with me. I got plans for us.”

You giggle at that. “What’s with you and all these plans, huh?”

He smirks, face moving even closer to yours until your lips are brushing against each other. The contact makes you lean forward, but he pulls back ever so slightly in a teasing manner, causing an involuntary whine to leave your mouth and Joel’s smirk only grows at the sound.

“I have lots of time wasted with you to catch up on. Plus, I need to do my due diligence as an American citizen to make sure you get the proper education you lacked in health class.”

You snort but his teasing tone and implication behind his words make you press your thighs together. Thankfully, he pushes forward to kiss you hungrily, your mouths opening instantly to let your tongues twist and slide over each other. It’s messy, more desperate—the two of you having broken the barrier of uncertainty, leaving only pure carnal wants and needs.

You take a deep inhale through your nose, pushing yourself further into him as your hands begin to grab and lightly tug strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. His hand that was on your chin slides into your hair, matching your own grip you have in his hair while his other hand roams wildly across your back and to your hip, groping your skin as if he can’t get enough.

At some point, without you realizing, you began to lower and grind your center over his, only now feeling the result of the contact when the hardness under his jeans nudges your core. You gasp at the feeling, face pulling away to drop your jaw to your chin. Joel takes the opportunity to tug gently, but with purpose, at your hair, forcing your head back to expose your throat to him. With access to your neck, he begins to lay hot, open-mouthed kisses to the skin—switching between sucking, biting, and licking the space.

The feeling causes you to moan lightly, your hips moving harder down against him, the friction forcing a whimper to leave your throat.

Hearing your reaction, Joel reaches his hands down to the hem of your shirt, mumbling out a rushed, “This. Off. Now.”

You let him lift the shirt up and over your head, his hands already grabbing at the clasp of your bra and undoing it with ease, sliding the straps down your arms and throwing it somewhere on the floor behind you.

His mouth lowers and latches onto one of your hardening nipples—pleasure washing over you as he continues the movements he made on your neck onto your chest.

Equally desperate to feel him, you fumble to undo the buttons of his shirt. Your struggle catches Joel’s attention and he looks down briefly before ripping the rest of the few buttons of his shirt off, shrugging the material off him quickly. 

You gasp in shock at the action. “Joel! Your buttons just–”

He cuts you off, hands pulling your face back this his, mumbling against your lips. “Don’t fuckin’ care about no damn buttons, darlin’.” You have no chance to respond as his kiss causes your brain to malfunction for a brief moment before kissing him back with the same urgency.

Something comes over you and you reach down to unbuckle his belt, slipping it off and hearing it clatter to the ground with a soft clink, your hands shaking as you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down. At the realization of you initiating the act, Joel seems to go feral, his hands moving down to your own jeans before he gestures to you to stand up off him. “Lemme take these off you, baby.”

You swiftly obey, standing so he can unbutton and slide your jeans off, leaving kisses to the tops of your thighs as he reveals the skin. His finger slips into the sides of your underwear before he slides those down and has you step out of your last bits of clothing.

You stand there as he lifts his hips up to take off his own pants and boxers, his hardened cock hitting his stomach. Your heart pounds at the sight as he pulls you onto the bed. “Need you on my mouth, darlin.”

Dizzily, you nod in understanding and move to lay down on the bed before you pause—confused when Joel leans back so his head hits his pillow. Why is he the one lying down right now? Did he mean something else?

He looks up at you, raising an eyebrow in impatience before you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Waitin’ for you to get your next health class lesson,” Joel says with a stifled laugh and a smirk.

Your face scrunches in further confusion. What?

His eyebrows twitch in amusement for a moment before the realization dawns on him—you truly don’t know what he means.

Joel leans up with his face softened, more gentle, and pats his chest. “You’re gonna straddle me, okay?”

Still slightly confused, you crawl your body over him until you hover over his cock. He pats his chest again, taking your hand and tugging you to crawl up. “Need you higher than that, darlin’?”

You feel frustrated at your lack of understanding, before you look between his chest and his mouth, your mind slowly catching up as your eyes widen and your mouth flutters open and shut. “Wha– what? Why? You… I can’t do that.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “You absolutely can, darlin’. In fact, I highly encourage it.”

You shake your head as insecurity takes over you unexpectedly. “You… I– Joel, I’ll suffocate you?” You say with your voice going up in question at the end.

His eyes fall shut in pleasure before he looks back up at you. “And I can’t tell ya how much I want that, pretty girl.”

The name makes your head spin momentarily before you shift nervously above his hips. Seeing your hesitation, Joel drops the teasing nature and rubs his hands up and down your arms soothingly. “Darlin’, if you really don’t want to do this, then you absolutely do not have to, okay? M’not forcin’ ya, I just want you to know that I want this.”

Your eyes scan his face for any sign of a lie but find none. “Are you absolutely sure? What if I hurt you?”

He takes your hand in his, wrapping his pinky finger around yours. “Swear I’m sure, baby. Believe me, you ain’t gonna hurt me.”

You sit there for a moment, debating while Joel lays patiently without judgment. You chew the inside of your cheek before you place your hands on his chest and begin to crawl your body further up his.

A low moan leaves his lips, Joel helping you situate yourself properly until you hover over his chest—his hands wrapping around the backs of your thighs to keep a grip on your hips.

His eyes lock onto your pussy before back to your face, the sight so sinfully beautiful that you let out a gasp. Your anxiety oddly mixes in with the desire you feel—overwhelmed with having a clear view of him below you and his breath feeling hot against your aching center.

“Already so wet for me, darlin’,” he mumbles to himself more than to you. Joel guides you forward, a gentle pressure against your thighs to push you forward. “Just put yourself on my mouth, baby. If you want me to stop at any point just tell me, okay?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as you lower yourself carefully over him, only hovering until you get close enough to his mouth. The moment he feels you, he pulls you down closer to his mouth and moans as he instantly dips his tongue in you. The sensation makes your jaw drop, moaning as you place your hand on the wall in front of you while trying to keep as much of your weight off of him as possible. 

Meanwhile, Joel sounds like a man starved—completely possessed as you look down to see his eyes shut in bliss, kissing and licking inside you before moving up to suck on your clit.

A few moments pass of you still trying to keep control despite how good it feels, hyper aware of your positioning at all times. Picking up on this, Joel opens his eyes and pulls away from you, a whine leaving your throat from the loss of contact. You look down to see his lips reddened and his face flushed as the area around his mouth glistens from your slick.

“I need you on me, darlin’.”

Feigning confusion, you begin to deny the truth but Joel just shakes his head firmly underneath you. “I can feel you holdin’ back, baby. Please, please believe me. Give me everythin’, okay?”

Hearing desperation in his voice as he borderline begs, you sigh and nod timidly in agreement with his plea.

Seemingly pleased with your response, he brings himself back to his motions a moment ago. You feel yourself weakening from the pleasure before Joel taps the sides of your thighs. You look down at him to find him watching you, pulling himself back enough to say, “Don’t hold back on me.”

The sincerity in his voice, the trust you have with him, and the way his tongue feels so good in you, makes you listen. Slowly, you release your tense state and let yourself lower more of your weight onto him, keeping your eyes on him the whole time to look for a sign to stop. You find none. Instead, you hear and feel his groan of satisfaction—his grip on you tightening as his movements become even more frantic.

Eventually, the combination of him switching back and forth between sucking your clit and moving his tongue perfectly inside you causes your strength to falter. You slip, knees sliding further away as your body fully drops onto Joel’s mouth, your thighs wrapping around his head on instinct as you keep your hand against the wall in front of you, your other hand instinctively falling into his hair—gripping and pulling at the strands.

You feel his smirk before you hear him mumble against your center. “That’s my good girl.”

Finally being free with your movements, your mind at ease that Joel seems to still be breathing, you begin to move your hips subconsciously against his mouth. Once he feels this, Joel moans loudly against you—the added vibration making you grind harder against him as you feel his fingers grip your thighs so hard you’re sure to find bruises in the morning.

“There ya go. Fuckin’ use me. Help yourself come on my mouth, darlin’. Need it so damn bad.”

His filthy words match the wild, hungry movements he makes below you. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly, you grip his hair particularly hard before your eyes squeeze shut, head falling forward as you grind down on his mouth harder.

“Fuck… Joel—baby, I,” you words trail off into a string of moans as you feel your orgasm hit you with such intensity. Slamming your hand against the wall harshly, you cry out, “Holy fuck, Joel!”

You let go, your body fully using his face as nothing but support at this point. He moans in approval at your reaction and continues sucking your clit with just enough pressure to help you ride out your high, his fingers gripping you harshly to help hold you steady.

You lean your forehead against your arm that you hold out in front of you with your palm against the wall. Your thighs are shaking as you let go of the grip you hold in Joel’s hair to hold yourself up with the headboard. Joel continues to lick through you and clean the wetness across your inner thighs before he leans his head back against the pillow to look up at you.

You shyly smile at the sight, your insecurity creeping in a little bit at the fact you put so much weight on him. Joel notices and rubs his hands up and down your thighs, breathing out your name before saying, “Don’t get in your head, darlin’. That was the best damn thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Your cheeks go red at his words, moving yourself down his body to sit over his stomach after you come down. 

Looking down at him from your view, something overtakes you. The way he brings his hand up to his mouth to haphazardly wipe away the remnants of you. The soft look in his eyes full of an emotion you can’t name just yet. The lazy smile that dawns his face as he looks up at you, still lightly running his hands over the sides of your thighs… 

It all becomes too much—your reserved and insecure demeanor from moments ago completely disappears and is replaced by pure desire as you place your hands on his chest and raise your hips up. You see Joel’s face twitch in slight confusion at your movements.

Reaching down between the two of you with one hand, you lightly grip his cock and maneuver yourself until you hover yourself over him. The moment he feels your fingers wrap around him, Joel’s entire body jerks as if he’s been zapped.

“Darlin’... what are you doin’?” He says as he pants heavily, his chest moving up and down rapidly as his eyes flick from your face down to where your bodies meet. 

You rest the underside of his cock between your folds, rocking forward slightly, the sensitivity shocking you briefly. His preparation moments ago leaves you absurdly wet and able to easily slide against him. “This.”

At the contact, Joel’s mouth falls open, a loud moan leaving his throat. “Fuck… baby, we don’t have to do–” 

He gets cut when you slide yourself over him again—Joel’s face screwing up as he throws his head back into his pillow, the muscles and veins in his neck straining.

“I want to,” you firmly say, keeping your eyes directly on his face to watch his reactions. “Do you want me?”

His eyes open as he scoffs, shaking his head as if you were crazy. “The fuck kinda question is that, darlin’? Fuckin’ christ—as if I’d ever not want you.”

You smirk as you see him struggling to hold onto his willpower. Wrapping your fingers around his thick and heavy cock and feeling him twitch in your hands as you position yourselves until his head teases your entrance. 

“So… can I, baby?” You ask, the words identical to the first time he asked to put his mouth on you. You aren’t given a verbal response as Joel reaches his hands to grip your waist and begin to help you lower yourself onto him. He pushes the tip of his cock in before pausing as he feels how you grip around him. You brace your hands back onto his chest, digging your nails in slightly as your jaw drops and your head falls forward onto your chest. 

A low groan leaves Joel, his body squirming from the effort of restraint. “Fuck me, darlin’. God… you’re so fuckin’ tight, holy–” 

His words make you clench around him, causing him to pinch his eyes shut and involuntarily jerk his hips. The movement makes him go a little deeper into you until you feel half of him, resulting in a whimper to come out of you. The noise seems to grab Joel’s attention as he looks up at you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “M’sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to–”

You shake your head and open your eyes to look at him. “Don’t be. It doesn’t hurt it… fuck it feels good.”

You weren’t lying—the slight burn and discomfort you had experienced the first time is gone, replaced by shock and ecstasy at the stretch of him inside you. 

He nods, telling you to take your time but you feel too impatient and sink down on him completely until all of him is inside you, your walls pulsing around him. You both let out a loud moan and Joel’s grip on your hips tightens to hold you in place. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, woman.”

His words fuel you with confidence and a sense of pride, laughing softly at the praise. “Come on, Miller,” you breathe out. “You can’t prove Tommy right.”

You don’t know what possessed you to tease him, referring to his brother’s comments about being “too old”. 

Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes darken, his nostrils flaring as he slowly pulls you off him before bringing you back down sharply, lifting his own hips up to deepen the thrust. The action knocks the breath out of you and weakens your balance, causing your body to fall forward until your forehead hits the pillow next to his face as a sharp cry gets ripped from you.

He moves his hips to make small thrusts inside you as he lets your body settle from the force. You feel one of his hands come up to brush the hair out of your face beside him in delicate motions. Joel turns his head until his lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering with a smirk, “What was that, sweetheart?”

Your whimpering makes a laugh vibrate through his chest until you beg. “Please… Joel, please fucking move.”

You feel childish as you whine and pout, trying to move your hips desperately against Joel’s but he just continues his slow, short thrusts inside of you in a tantalizing manner.

Okay… you’re realizing you were in over your head.

Instead of giving you what you want, Joel teasingly shushes you, petting your hair as he says, “Darlin’... let’s use our words now. What do you need?”

You can’t find the will to speak as your mind is clouded by the full feeling of him essentially just sitting inside you. Only hearing your whimpers, Joel pushes. “C’mon, baby… be a good girl and tell me what you need.”

Fluttering yourself around his cock, your whole body squirming for friction, you rush out, “Fuck, Joel—please just… god, baby, please… Please move.”

He kisses the sides of your face. “Now was that so hard?” He asks before he helps you lift yourself off him and brings you back down, meeting your thrusts with his own.

Finally getting the pleasure you were desperately craving, your upper body goes lax as you sag against him, uncontrollable moans and whimpers slipping from your lips. The sounds coming from Joel match your own as he moves relentlessly inside you. 

He moves one hand to hold the small of your back and uses his other to push his palm into his bed, lifting both you and him up so you were both sitting vertically with him still inside you.

The movement causes a gasp to leave you, your head coming down onto his shoulder as you feel his hands wildly roam across your back and sides. Your gasp turns into a sharp cry and you bite down on his skin the moment he fully sits up. The angle makes him feel impossibly deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside you that had you grappling to stay in your body.

Finding the strength to lift your head off his shoulder, you look down at him to find his gaze already trained on your face, his eyebrows pushed together and up as his falls open. Moans leaves his lips as you move your hips up and down, and back and forth above him.

The feeling of the head of his cock repeatedly hitting a deep spot inside you has resting your forehead on his, screwing your eyes shut and panting out, “Joel… I’m gonna–”

He lightly growls before he takes a grip on your hips and flips the two of you suddenly until you lay flat on his bed with him over you. He uses his hands to push your knees up on either side of his hips, encouraging you to wrap your legs behind his back in a tight lock. The position has you feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly—Joel leaning down to kiss you hungrily before he rips away. “Gonna help you come, baby, don’t worry.”

He brings one hand up to grip onto his headboard for balance, taking his other hand and bringing his index and middle finger to your parted lips. You feel him ghost his fingers over your bottom lip, the contact making you open your mouth more. Joel then slips the two fingers into your mouth, resting on your tongue as you instinctively close your lips and suck on them—your tongue swirling around his fingers.

Joel groans at the feeling, his hips stuttering before he slowly slips his fingers out of your mouth and guides his hand down between you two. You feel him place his fingers on your clit, making you realize his intention of putting his fingers in your mouth as he rubs circles across your most sensitive spot.

Feral moans leave you in quick succession, your orgasm hitting you suddenly, causing your body to arch up into his and dig your nails into the grip you have on the sides of his arms. “There ya go… my perfect fuckin’ girl.” 

The feeling of you clenching around him over and over as your orgasm washes over you brings his own. Joel’s grip on the headboard slips to slam his closed fist into the pillow beside your head as he keeps his other hand on your clit, fingers still moving in slowing circles to help you come down from your own orgasm. 

“God… baby, I fuckin’ love– love how you feel, darlin’... fuck!”

His body lurches forward and you feel his movements stutter inside you until he slams into you with a harsh thrust, spilling inside you. His mouth falls open beside your ear, your name leaving his lips helplessly as his moans turn into whimpers and his movements begin to slow.

Joel sags on top of you, both of you panting in each other’s ears as his fingers on your clit subside and his thrusts slow to a stop inside you.

You both lay there for a long time with your eyes shut, taking the moment to savor the full feeling of him inside you and feeling his come slowly leaking out of you. His hands soothingly rubbing the sides of your waist make you begin to pepper kisses on his shoulder, moving your kisses up his neck as he lifts his head to hover his face over yours.

Ghosting your lips over his jaw, his eyes briefly fall shut in a look of bliss. You pull your face away slightly to look at him directly, seeing his eyes open and looking from your lips to your eyes.

“Was that okay?” Joel softly whispers, voice turning up at the end in insecurity.

You furrow your brows in confusion before softly laughing. “Are you kidding me? That was fucking amazing.”

His shoulders relax. “I wasn’t too rough on you?”

You spot the genuine concern in his tone and eyes and pull him down for a reassuring kiss. Joel melts into you, one hand coming up to hold the side of your head before you pull away. Giving him a dazed smile, you say, “You weren’t, I promise. It felt perfect, Joel.”

His concern washes away, your words erasing his fears of hurting you. 

“What ‘bout you, huh?” He asks, seeing your confusion before continuing. “The hell has gotten into ya?” He smirks, dipping his head forward to ghost his lips over yours. “This teasin’... you’re gonna send me to an early grave, babygirl.”

You shyly smile and giggle at his words, recalling your teasing words and how shocked you are with yourself. “Are you really complaining?”

He laughs back. “Guess I ain’t. M’gladly willin’ to die by your hands.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s with you and wanting to die from sex? Fine with me suffocating you… fine with me teasing you to death…”

“There’s plenty of worse ways to die, baby. Rather go out feelin’ like I’m in heaven before I get sent to hell.”

You playfully roll your eyes and your exhaustion hits you before Joel begins to pull out of you. You watch him sit up on his knees, looking between your legs before he moves his body down to lie between your thighs. The movement makes you gasp, a sensitive whine leaving you as he begins to clean the mess with his tongue—gently licking and kissing away his come.

You squirm from the overstimulation, squeezing your thighs around his face and bringing your hands to grab his hair before he pulls away with a smirk. “Saves water. Good for the planet an’ all.” 

You huff out a laugh. “Now who’s trying to kill who.”

He climbs back up your body to lay beside you, pulling the covers back for you both to lay underneath. Lying on his side, he hugs you close to him, your face pressing into his chest. 

A beat of silence passes, and you think Joel’s gone to sleep, you following in tow, until you hear his voice speak up in a hushed tone. “I missed you.”

The wavering tone in his voice makes you shift your head to look up at him, finding him looking down at his chest but unable to meet your eyes. “You’ve seen me almost everyday?”

When Joel does make eye contact with you, the look in them makes your breath catch in your throat. Your own longing for him over the week comes to you again, and you find yourself no longer wanting to pretend when he offered his own thoughts so willingly.

“I know,” you say. “I missed you, too.”

Joel exhales deeply at your words and you feel tension leave his body. He looks at you for a moment longer, loud thoughts you wish you could hear flipping through his mind before he squeezes your arm and gently presses your head back down.

“Let’s get you to sleep, pretty girl.”

You mumble out a response, the sound muffled by your face against his skin. “I’m not even tired…”

The last thing you feel is Joel placing a kiss to the top of your head before your eyes fall shut, darkness pulling you in.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: posting this earlier in the day because i have a dnd session tonight so i will get back to comments and things tomorrow :) hope you guys like this fluffy/smutty chapter

also!! i made my playlist for this story public. the link is at the top of the chapter :) it includes songs that are chapters, future chapters, or songs that fit the vibe! it's not in order by chapters though, they're all just kinda thrown in lol

🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @silksepia @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63 @lizzie-cakes @vanishintoyoubby @keileighr

if anyone else wants to be tagged or removed from the tag list, then please let me know!

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter ten

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: conversations with joel and ellie help you after the events of the previous day  wc: 15k rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be explicit smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, TW: topics discussing SA, trauma, vague mentions of ellie’s experience with david, tons of fluff, reader has no description besides she has hair and can be lifted, small mention of reader’s life before the outbreak, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn spoiler tags… hehehehe, explicit smut, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv sex (unrealistic i know ok i’m just a girl with a breeding kink and a disinterest in getting pregnant alright sue me AND USE PROTECTION), soft!joel, joel talks you through it, begging?, creampie, aftercare, loss of virginity/first time, virgin!reader but not infantilizing, lmk if i missed anything!! a/n: sorry this took longer than i wanted! trying to edit while having a fever was not ideal and for obvious reasons… this chapter needed my full brain capacity to make perfect. my first time writing smut so i hope i did it justice. enjoy <3 ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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X. LIGHTNING CRASHES

I can feel it coming back again Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind Forces pulling from the center of the Earth again I can feel it

The following morning, you wake to the sounds of soft chatter downstairs and the smell of fresh eggs. When you open your eyes, squinting as you look around your room, you are capable of holding on to the ten seconds of peaceful bliss before you remember the events that occurred the previous day. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.

It’s an effort to blink the groggy feeling out of your eyes, turning in your bed to look towards your bedroom door that is still left partly open, left just as it was the night before by Joel. Focusing on your staircase, your ears pick up the voices you had heard—Joel and Tommy.

“... Came by to check how you both were doin’, didn’t find ya at your house,” you hear from Tommy.

“Stayed here for the night. Slept on her couch…”

Their voices fade away as they speak in hushed tones. You will yourself to get out of bed, glancing at the small radio clock on your bedside table that tells you it was noon. Jesus… you can’t remember a time sleeping in so late, even when your body was pushed past the point of exhaustion.

A piece of you wants to stay in bed for eternity and let the warmth and safety under the blankets take over you, but that isn’t you. You’ve dealt with horrors in this world—both from infected and from humans. You’d get past this. You’d move on. You know this, because you have in the past many times. It doesn’t make the feeling disappear, though.

Moving around your room, you hear the soft bang of your front door closing, signaling to you that Tommy has left. You make your way over to your bathroom, feet dragging behind you as you trudge your way across the carpeted floor. Your hand reaches out to flip the light switch and you come face to face with your mirror. With yourself.

The injuries shock you. Purple splotches cloud over your arms from where hands had grabbed at you, gripping you tightly. A small, thin line across your throat from the edge of the knife that pressed into your skin as you struggled, but not deep enough to cause a scar. Your eyes are heavy—red and puffy from tears and exhaustion. The only thing that doesn’t look disastrous is your hair, making you thankful that you washed away and worked through any knots or blood that may have been left in it.

No wonder Joel had looked at you the way he did last night.

You shake away the memory as best as you can, splashing cold water on your face before you head downstairs where the sounds of food sizzling in a pan travel from the kitchen and to your ears—the smell of breakfast foods being made becoming stronger as you reach the last step. Your footsteps softly pad across the wood floors, heading for the kitchen but stopping at your couch. A slight indent of a large body is left in the cushions with blankets neatly folded on one end of the couch. The sight makes you feel something you’re too hesitant to name, and you let yourself merely drag your fingertips across the back of the couch as you continue walking further into your home.

Reaching the kitchen, you lean on the edge of the archway and see Joel’s back to you as he flips eggs in your frying pan. You notice fresh orange juice in a pitcher on your small kitchen table that sits against one wall, space for three—something you didn’t think you needed when you first moved here that became something you were grateful for as the chairs were filled more often than not. 

You mutter a soft greeting to make Joel aware of your presence. He jumps slightly and turns around, a shocked laugh leaving him. “Jesus, didn’t even hear ya, darlin’.”

“Sorry, I just woke up and smelled food, so…”

He shakes his head lightly at you. “Nothin’ to say sorry for. I woke up a bit ago. Decided to make us some food ‘cause I figured you would be up soon.”

He quirks his head as if he remembers something and looks at you with a wince. “Hope I didn’t wake you up with Tommy. He stopped by to check in with us and see how you were holdin’ up.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reassure him. A small smile grows on your face before you’re able to stop it, his consideration of you making you feel lighter. “Feels weird waking up this late but… I feel a little better.”

His eyes are big and round in momentary surprise until his features smooth out to match your smile. “I’m glad.”

“How’d you sleep? Couch okay?”

Joel laughs and turns back to continue cooking. “Couch ain’t the worst thing I’ve slept on. I’ve never been the best sleeper so it just took a sec to pass out. Think just sleepin’ under the same roof as you gave me some peace more than anythin’.”

His head jerks in the direction of a coffee pot in one corner of your kitchen counters, his voice kicking up in slight excitement. “Oh, got some coffee started for us. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll eat for a bit.”

Joel turns the stove off, leaving the pan on the hot circle to let it finish cooking. As you push your body off the doorframe, he makes his way over to the table to pull out a chair for you and beckons you to sit. You make your way over to sit and eye him as he moves with fluidity through your kitchen space, grabbing plates from the cupboards and filling two of them with eggs and toast, bringing them over to you and setting each of them in front of your respective chairs.

He fills up glasses of orange juice and coffee for the both of you, which you graciously accept, taking a drink from your orange juice as you begin to eat and setting the warm coffee mug in one corner of the table.

You both eat silently for a few minutes until Joel quips up with, “Tommy said he wants you off for a few days, take some time for yourself. If you want somethin’ to do, there’s some help that could be needed ‘round town.”

You nod, feeling grateful instead of protesting against the offer. For once you want to stay home for as long as they’d allow. “How about you?”

Joel swallows a large gulp of coffee before he responds. “Same, essentially. M’okay to go back on patrol…” 

His words trail off when he sees your eyes go slightly wide before you can help yourself, but he’s quick to clarify. “But, I rather stay here in town for as long as you need. And don’t start feelin’ bad. I’m choosin’ to stay off patrol ‘cause I want to, okay?”

He gives you a knowing look as if waiting for you to make some comment, pointing at you with a fork in his hand as a playful warning that makes you giggle. “Okay, okay. I won’t,” you reply, hands raised up in mock surrender.

Joel’s face relaxes into a tender look at the sound of your laughter. He moves to get up, putting the dishes away when both of you have finished your food. Speaking as he walks towards the sink to put the dishes in there, he says, “Only thing is Maria and Tommy want me to come by their place to talk more ‘bout…”

He trails off as his demeanor hardens and you see the muscles in his back tense up—the fabric of his shirt rippling with the movement. After a moment, he turns to look back at you still sitting at the table. “I’ll only be gone a few hours. If you want me to come back here after, I can.”

You find yourself nodding embarrassingly quickly, but Joel only seems to be relieved at your answer.

He looks around the room, searching for anything else he needs to do. “Alright, um… you gonna be okay here? Do you need anythin’?”

“I’ll be alright,” you say. He gives you a questionable look, not from judgement but from nerves, before you stand up and make your way in front of him. Something in you compels you to reach out and grab his hand, watching him looking down at your hands intertwined. “I promise, Joel. I feel a bit better. Swear I won’t act the way I did yesterday.”

Joel still looks down at your hands clasped together with his own. He takes a stuttering breath in before he looks up at you, the tension in his shoulders dropping at your touch. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with how you acted, sweetheart. I’d never be upset with you if you were still like that.”

His doubt and uneasiness about your current state makes sense to you—you know he only wants to double check for your own sake. Thinking about how you prove to him you mean what you say, you decide to move your hand laying in his to adjust your grip until you interlock your pinky finger with his.

Without looking down, Joel feels your finger around his and breaks into a grin. “Alright then. Good.”

You walk him over to your door, Joel not leaving until he promises once more that he will be back as soon as he is able. Shutting the door behind him, you press your back against it and stare around your house and try to figure out what to do. You decide to do what you have always done when you feel anxious. Cleaning. 

A full deep clean of your whole house all at once, something you have done quite a few times during your stay in Jackson as it helped distract you from any stress or overthinking your mind had sucked you into. 

Putting a vinyl onto your record player, you allow your mind to shut off for the next couple hours as your body succumbs to the routine—moving with ease as you dust and wipe down various items in your home. You find yourself harshly scrubbing over multiple spots again and again, unloading your emotions into the tasks and desperately trying to make everything new again. Like you wish you could do with yourself.

As evening approaches, you still feel unclean. A feeling that has been hovering over you since you got back to Jackson last night. A quick glance at the clock tells you that Joel wouldn’t be back for quite some time, so you settle on the decision to take another shower—one that’s longer than last night as you remove the crawling feeling over your skin, doing your best to force yourself into feeling like you again. 

After however long you spend under the hot water, you eventually reach down to turn the knob shut and step out onto the small rug placed outside the tub. You work quickly and diligently to dry off your body, shaking out most of the water from your hair before moving into your bedroom to get dressed. You keep it simple, something soft and loose and cozy. Something that brings you comfort.

When putting on the last article of clothing, you hear knocking at your front door. Your face scrunches up in confusion considering Joel has a key that he always used when you were expecting him. Regardless, you rush to straighten out your clothing and walk downstairs to greet him.

“Ellie?”

She looks relieved when she sees you. “Hi…”

“Is everything okay?” You’re startled but not unhappy to see her here. It just had been some time since she had come over.

She hesitates for a moment until she says, “Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, like, I’m fine, I just…”

Her words trail off and you take notice of the worried lines that are etched on her face, combined with what looks like a glassy look in her eyes as she mumbles out, “Joel– I ran into him while he was with Tommy and they told me about…”

You nod knowingly, silently encouraging her to continue. “I just wanted to check on you. I… I feel like a really shitty person for not seeing you much lately.”

A sad laugh spills out of you. “Oh, Ellie…” You beckon her to come inside and she waits behind you while you close the door. 

The moment the lock clicks, you barely have time to turn back around when you’re met with a sudden hug from Ellie—your body stumbling for a second at the unexpected force before you steady yourself. Your arms hover over her at first, not knowing what to do. She’s hugged you before, sure. Mainly out of gratitude or excitement for something. But never like this.

Ellie’s head burrows further into your chest and you hear small sniffles come from her. The sound makes you wrap your arms around her instantly, settling one of your hands on the back of her head as you pet her hair. 

After a few moments, she mutters an apology into your shirt and you pull yourself back to look at her directly, holding both sides of her face in your hands. “Honey, you have no reason to be apologizing.”

She sniffles again, wiping away a few stray tears. “I just… Fuck, man. I feel bad I haven’t seen you much. Then something like… this happens and I wouldn’t have been able—”

Your heart breaks as she cuts herself off, her emotions seeming to get the best of her. You do your best to convey your reassurance to her, dipping your head low to meet her eyes and smile. “You’re a teenager, Ellie. I don’t expect you to hang out with old people all the time when you make new friends. I’m glad you have people to be around.”

She smiles back, a teasing glint in her eye that has you feeling relieved. “You’re not as old as Joel, if it makes you feel better.”

“Wow, yeah. That makes me feel so much better, thank you for that.”

She giggles at you before pulling away completely and looking back into your house. “Could I, uh, stay here for a bit? Joel said he’d be back soon, he just wanted to shower before coming here because he ended up working on fixing some things with Tommy. I have dinner with Dina and Jesse at his mom’s place later, but I wanted to see you first.”

You nod before she can even finish speaking. “Of course you can hang out here.”

Her bright smile fills you with joy while watching her bounce on the balls of her feet lightly, her child-like spirit from when you first met her coming back in that moment. “Good, because I brought some newer volumes of Savage Starlight that I gotta catch you up on!”

Ellie doesn’t hesitate to make her way to your couch, jumping on it before reaching into her backpack to pull out the comics and spread them over your coffee table. As you walk around the couch to join her, tucking your legs beneath you, you feel overwhelmed at how quickly and simply one kid can make you feel eons better. 

You lean over to pick up one of the comics in an attempt to flip through them and refresh your memory, but you stop yourself when you see her face has become more serious, making you grow concerned. “Are you okay?”

Ellie thinks about it for a moment, eyes on the ground as she bites the inside of her cheek before she turns her body to face you, propping one leg underneath her. You shift yourself to face her directly as well, letting one arm rest on top of the back of the couch to give her your full attention.

“When I first traveled with Joel, years ago, we ran into a group.” She pauses, looking to you for confirmation that she’s free to speak. You nod to show you were listening and move your hand to rest on top of her shoulder soothingly.

She lets out a shaky sigh and you notice her begin to pinch the skin around her tattoo nervously. “They, um… they weren’t good people. Joel was sick and they took me.”

You take a sharp breath in but make no attempt to stop her. “Um… basically, they were just really fucking creepy… men. Nothing happened really, just… they wanted to hurt me, or something.”

Rage builds inside you as you process her words and their implications—her emphasis on the last word making bile creep up your throat. She was so young. Is so young, still, yet knowing how much has happened to her makes you sick. Sick of the world and the kinds of people that existed. The fact that the life you live in is already so cruel and scary, and you can’t even find peace in living in the midst of it all. 

You internally tell yourself to calm down and give her the chance to continue before responding.

She takes a deep breath before looking at you. “It stopped before… anything happened. I promise. Just, I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened to you and I want to be there for you, if you need. And… don’t let shit like this take over you completely and push people away. I did that, and it was stupid. You can’t let it consume you. It’s okay to need people. Let yourself rely on others. If we don’t, then what’s the point of being alive?”

Her words stun you into silence, only able to take them in as tears silently fall down your face. You suddenly surge forward to bring her into a tight hug, holding her against you and whispering into her hair. “Thank you, Ellie. I’m so sorry, I…” Your thoughts trail off as you squeeze your eyes shut, running your hands over her back soothingly. “I’ll always be here for you, too. Okay?”

You feel slight shaking from her for only a couple seconds before she mutters into your shoulder. “Love you, dude.”

You let out a laugh that sounds like a sob as you pull back smiling at her, rubbing your thumbs over her cheeks and smoothing her hair out of her face. “Thanks… dude.”

She laughs and playfully shoves your arm. “Fuck off and say it back.”

You smile so hard it hurts your cheeks, unable to stop even if you wanted to. “I love you too, Ellie.”

She sighs deeply, shaking her head and blinking away tears from her eyes to move the conversation forward. Turning her attention back to the comics, she slaps her hands on the tops of her thighs gently as she grabs a book from the spread she made. “Okay, so in this volume…”

The next two hours are spent just talking with each other—about the comics and about things happening in your lives. She updates you on school subjects, discussing the topics with disinterest until mentioning the week they they learned about astronomy and the history of the Mesozoic era.

Somewhere along the way, the topic turns into her asking about your love life.

“Nonexistent,” you say bluntly with a short laugh.

Ellie eyes you with a doubtful look. “Really?”

Her tone puzzles you until you see a smirk on her lips, your eyes widening from her implication. A deadpan look is the only way you respond to her before you change the subject. 

“How about you, huh? Everything good with you and Cat?”

Her eyes widen for a moment before she seems to recover. “What do you mean about me and Cat?”

Her reaction makes you confused before you clarify. “Like… you don’t talk about her much anymore. I’ve seen you spend more time with Dina lately. Is Cat a shitty friend?”

Ellie lets out a quick exhale. “Oh. Yeah, no, we’re still… friends, I guess. Dina doesn’t like her much, says Cat is ‘not good news’.” Looking off to the side, her face twists into annoyance. “As if she can really be one to talk. Her and Jesse have this weird on and off tension,” she shudders at the thought. “Gonna suck when Dina most likely gets paired on patrols with Jesse as her partner.”

The two of you are distracted when you both hear the lock of your door turn. Your attention shifts over to watch as Joel comes through, his usual dark jeans and brown coat adorning his body and the dark of the evening looming behind him. He steps in with one foot before lifting his head and freezing in the door, a surprised and apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he says timidly. “Am I interruptin’ girl talk?”

Ellie turns back to you and mutters, “Speaking of partners…”

You send her a warning glare before she puts her hands up innocently. “What? You guys are ‘patrol partners’,” she says while putting air quotes around the last two words.

You playfully slap her arm, hearing her snicker and say ow, before you shake away her comment and turn your attention back to Joel. “Not interrupting. Ellie just stopped by to show me some of her new comics she found.”

Joel smiles, stepping inside fully and raising himself on his toes for a second to peer over at your coffee table to see what comic you two were currently looking at. “Ah, yeah, she told me ‘bout that one.”

Ellie looks between you two for a moment, then begins moving to gather all her comics and shove them into her backpack before standing up with you. “Well… I better go. Jesse’s mom is gonna be pissed if I’m late again. I’ll leave you two crazy kids at it.”

Joel snickers at her. “Now who sounds old?”

Ellie rolls her eyes at him. “Literally still you, dude.”

She says her goodbyes to you with a quick hug, giving Joel a nod as she goes to the door and swings it open before calling out behind her, “Make good choices!”

Her words make you wince when remembering what she had asked just moments ago, but Joel is none the wiser about the meaning behind them.

You take a second to look at him more clearly, noticing his hair is wet and slicked back a bit, a few strands curling in the front. You remember Ellie telling you he would stop at his place to take care of a few things and shower before coming here.

“How was everything with Tommy?”

He rolls his eyes. “Damn idiot roped me into fixin’ up some stuff at the bar. Had to hear Seth’s fuckin’ mouth run for hours. Almost wringed his damn neck.”

You smirk and ask, “Tommy’s neck or Seth’s?”

He snorts, eyes going wide dramatically for a second. “Both. At the same time.”

His response makes your shoulders shake with laughter, which has Joel looking at you sideways with a twitching smile. “You seem more yourself… Did Ellie spike your drink or somethin’?”

“No, no. She just… We had a good talk. Hadn’t gotten to see her much so it was nice catching up.” You tilt your head as a joking thought comes to you. “You know, she gives eerily good advice for someone so young. You think Jackson needs another therapist?”

Joel barks out a laugh at that. “Don’t know how many people could tolerate a shrink swearin’ every three words. Best to keep that occupation for Gail.”

“You know what… fair enough, actually.”

The two of you stand there in silence for a second while you shift on your feet. “Do you… wanna watch a movie or something?” You offer.

Joel seems to remember something. “Actually, I thought we could sit out on your porch swing. The weather's a bit cool tonight, so I thought it might be nice?”

There’s an uncertainty in his voice that makes you quickly reassure him by eagerly nodding, stopping at your coat rack near the door to get a sweater shawl to wear outside before following him. Despite being the summer, the air still got cooler as the sun fades away.

When you walk out, you see him leaning against your porch railing waiting for you. Your porch lights light up the profile of his face as he looks off to the side, hitting his skin and encasing him in a warm glow. Hearing you step out, he lifts off of the wooden beam and holds your swing steady as you sit on one side, folding your legs underneath you as you sit sideways. You settle your shawl over your shoulders, resting your face against your hand as you lean your arm on the back of the swing.

You glance up to see Joel still standing in front of you, fidgeting on his feet. With a frown, you ask, “You okay?”

He just nods, mostly to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself of his answer. After a brief pause, he glances to the opposite corner of your porch that’s too dark in the shadows for you to see. “I, uh… I brought somethin’...”

Walking over to that corner, you watch Joel pull a guitar that had apparently been leaning up against the brick wall. At the sight, your eyes light up and your mouth parts open—trying, yet failing, to not to startle him with your excitement. 

You close your mouth shut, keeping your lips pressed tightly together, but Joel had already seen your enthusiasm. He just huffs out a laugh and clears his throat, holding the guitar in front of him as he walks back over to the swing. “Promised I’d play for you one day. Only if you want–”

“Yes, please.”

With a shy smile, he sits down next to you and props the guitar on his lap, placing his hands on the strings accordingly.

“You gonna sing for me, Miller?”

Joel glances up at you, catching your smirk and laughing as his cheeks flush. “Not that confident yet… but maybe one day I will.”

His attention moves back to the guitar, his face shifted into concentration. You take notice of his hands trembling as he holds the instrument, showing you his nerves to play for you.

Without thinking, you reach out and place one hand against his arm in hopes of settling his anxiety. At your touch, his face turns to look down at where your skin meets the sleeve of his jacket, and watch his body physically sag as the tension leaves him.

The contact only lasts a few seconds before you pull away and allow him to move freely in order to play. With a shaky deep breath in, Joel closes his eyes and begins playing. 

The notes sound beautiful as you attentively sit and watch his fingers move with ease over the chords. The music has a small smile dancing on your lips, but after about ten seconds of playing, you let out a gasp—your body going stiff when you recognize the song and a wave of emotion hits you.

It was your favorite song. Lightning Crashes by Live, from 1994. The song your dad would play for you in the car repeatedly until you knew every word. Back in a time where you had no worries.

Joel doesn’t know that fact, but you know he does know your reaction when you had found it in a pile of vinyls at some abandoned store a few months back. The way you froze when you found it just laying at the top of a pile left on the floor, long forgotten and discarded over the years. How Joel sharply turned around when he heard your loud gasp and thought you had been in danger, only for him to shift into a look of amused bewilderment when you kept repeating oh my god, over and over again.

From that day on, you played the song every chance you got—Joel and Ellie hearing it endlessly for days on end. Ellie playfully picking on you and saying you would get sick of it having it on repeat for so long. But you knew you never could.

A stinging feeling in your eyes has you blinking furiously, but not wiping away the tears that formed and begin to trickle down your cheeks. Joel plays the chords flawlessly. His fingers move with such precision that you believe he had played this many times before, as if he had spent time practicing the song repeatedly to get it perfect. And it was. He was.

The pacing and volume of the notes begin to pick up, signaling to you that he was reaching your favorite part. The one that would have you screaming with your father. The part you’d mouth the lyrics to around Ellie and Joel.

It’s then that you hear another sound and realize Joel was softly humming the words to himself. The apples of your cheeks began to hurt from how wide you were grinning, the movement in your face only letting more tears slip out and drop onto your shirt.

Eventually the chords fade out and Joel stills his hands on the instrument, his eyes opening to stare down at his lap as you both sit quietly.

“That bad, huh?” He tries to joke, insecurity dripping into his tone from your silence.

After a beat, you softly call his name, prompting him to look at you. He slowly lifts his head to meet your gaze and relief courses through him at the sight. You sit before him with tears falling silently and your lips pressed tightly in a smile in an effort to not let a sob escape you. 

To Joel, the way you look at him right now with so much adoration in your eyes, makes his chest constrict.

“Hope those are happy tears, darlin’.”

You laugh, or try to—the noise being a slightly choked sound in the process. “Joel… that was beautiful.” 

Your compliment and the emphasis you put in your words has Joel’s face and neck feel warm. He leans forward to rest his guitar against the porch railing in front of him. As he settles back into the swing, you feel his body freeze in shock when you suddenly throw yourself at him to wrap your arms around his neck. Pressing your face into his shoulder, you’re hit with a scent of vanilla and sandalwood that makes your head dizzy.

Joel’s quick to wrap his arms around you in return when his mind catches up to the moment, letting his body relax at the feeling of you in his arms again. This time, though, it feels different.

You shift your face to bring your lips towards his ear and whisper a soft, “Thank you,” trying your best to pour the extent of your emotions into two simple words.

After some time, you reluctantly slip your arms from his neck and pull away, leaning your side back into the swing. Joel adjusts himself to face you directly and rests his arm on the back of the swing, delicately playing with the fluff of your sweater on your shoulder.

“So, you like the song choice?”

You give him an incredulous look that makes him laugh. “It was perfect. I’m more surprised you weren’t too sick of hearing that song so much to want to learn how to play it.”

He smirks and moves his eyes across your face. “It’s a good song. I probably liked it even more because of how you are when you listen to it.”

The hint of shyness in his voice at the end makes you smile before you begin to ask him details of the song—finding out that when you had seen his guitar and asked to hear him play, he wanted to find a good song for you. Then, that night the two of you and Ellie played cards, you had put that song on and ended up moving the needle back at least six times before letting the next song selection play. When he had taken a look at the vinyl cover, he recognized it from when you had first found it on patrol with him, and knew it was the only choice.

You hear about how often he practiced to get the song down right, but that he was quick to memorize the chords. The topic transitions into you asking him more about his skill with the instrument and realizing he had been playing for a very long time, and actually took it very seriously in his earlier years.

Joel shares with you that having Sarah so young forced him to find a different career path—all the singing and playing at bars not being enough to support her. He tells you stories of how he’d play and sing lullabies to her as she grew up, whether it was to help her sleep or soothe her after a bad day, and that he dreamed of teaching her how to play one day. 

“She was too focused on soccer to start practicin’ regularly, but I did teach her some notes,” he says, his voice turning quiet and sad as the concept of not having enough time kicks in. You lean your head to lay on his arm splayed across the swing, and you see his attention turn from his lap and onto you before one corner of his mouth pulls up.

The two of you go into easy conversations talking about anything and everything. Discussing likes, dislikes, favorite things, hobbies you both had before the outbreak, what life was like in general for either of you. This continues on for a couple hours as you both flow and switch between topics, the sky growing darker as the moon becomes visible. 

You take note of how the evening has made you feel a million times lighter and in general more at ease. It’s something you wouldn’t have thought possible before Jackson. Before Ellie. Joel.

Ellie’s words from earlier ring through your mind—this moment with Joel making you understand her fully. You had always forced yourself to shove things down. Always needing to move on quickly and relying on only yourself for so long. You think back to Joel’s interactions with you over time. How often he helped you, and how insistent he always is to let him help you. 

Ellie, who’s presence alone fills you with a level of joy and love you didn’t think was possible. Just today, seeing her and spending time with her made you forget your troubles, even if for a brief moment. The way that Tommy and Maria have shown you so much kindness and grace this whole time—how they even brought you here and gave you a chance in the first place.

Your fight with Joel in the comic book store almost a year ago comes to you, and the memory has you feeling stunned at how different your relationship with Joel was compared to how. The way you told him no one needs you, contrasting with Ellie’s advice from earlier.

She was right. You have to allow people to feel needed by you.

Your thoughts drift away and you come back to Joel talking about his love of coffee, saying that he was an addict for it before the outbreak. Considering how he always trades whatever he has to restock on some coffee beans, you aren’t shocked to find this passion had existed in a time long before now.

In the midst of his story, he seems to remember something. “By the way, when I was makin’ breakfast for us earlier, I saw you didn’t have much coffee grounds left.”

Realization strikes you, and you quickly try to reassure him you don’t mind. Shaking his head, he persists. “Nah, I feel bad I’m always takin’ ‘em from ya. I’ll make sure to bring you fresh ones next time someone comes through with ‘em, yeah?”

You sit and stare at your lap, twisting your fingers nervously. “Joel… I, uh, I gotta tell you something.”

He focuses on you with a serious face, straightening his posture to give you the place to speak freely. 

You look at him sideways as you force out the words. “I… I don’t actually like coffee.”

There’s a pause before Joel laughs. “Yes you do?” He says, chuckling while a frown flickers on his face. “You drink it all the time. Darlin’, you drank it this mornin’?”

His voice kicking up at the end makes you smile nervously. “I never really drank it. I always just kinda… hold the mug to act like I did.”

Joel’s brows furrow close together, staring at you for a beat before looking off into the front yard. He thinks for a moment and turns back to you. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, wincing. “I sorta, kinda, really hate coffee.”

He stares at you while trying to process your words carefully. “But you always got coffee grounds here?”

His cluelessness has you fighting back a laugh. 

“Well, yeah, because I know how much you love coffee.” 

Joel’s eyes flit around as he wracks through his brain, trying to recall previous experiences you two have had. You continue and say, “I mean, think about it—I am always drinking and making tea. If I make coffee, it’s because it’s for you. And if I have a mug, it’s because you were the one to give it to me.”

The dramatic look on Joel’s face has you breaking, unable to stop the giggle as you watch him act like his whole world view just shifted.

His eyes widen slightly, shaking his head and looking around before focusing back on you and squinting in curiosity. “Holy… Are you even who you say you are?”

You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds of your laughter. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t like coffee? It’s the best thing ever invented. I mean, hell, only psychopaths don’t like coffee.”

You catch the playful edge to his offended tone and throw your head back to laugh out loud. You lightly smack the side of his arm and give him a pointed look. “Hey, Ellie doesn’t like coffee,” you say, attempting to defend your point.

That only makes Joel’s eye go wide and throw his hands out. “That’s my damn point, sweetheart!”

You struggle to speak for a moment before saying, “Well, I’m really sorry to break it to you, honey.”

You don’t even realize what you say at first, just freely speaking without thinking when the word comes to you naturally. Joel, on the other hand, did notice.

Right away, his teasingly offended nature dissipates and his smile from your laughter drops completely. At his expression, you’re confused for a split second until your mind catches up to your words from moments ago and you freeze—your laughter ceasing as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve heard those kinds of names from Joel all the time. Darlin’. Sweetheart. All something that you stopped searching for a deeper meaning in them, chalking it up to be a result of being from Texas—his southern drawl letting the terms of endearment slip freely.

But, you. You have never reciprocated the sentiment. Until now. And you both know it.

The two of you stare at each other, both slightly shocked and unsure what to say, your chests picking up rapidly from quick breathing. You part your lips, intending to say something, anything, but nothing comes to mind and you’re left opening and closing your mouth like a fish. The movement on your face has Joel’s eyes dropping to stare at your mouth, and you find yourself doing the same to him.

He blinks once, and for a moment you think you see his body lean towards yours, not even an inch, before a shrieking laugh from down the road catches your attention. The sound makes you both jump and look in the direction to see a group of young adults stumbling down the road, most likely returning home from the Tipsy Bison.

Watching them for a moment, you keep your face turned away from Joel’s and shut your eyes, internally cursing yourself as that embarrassment comes back.

You find the courage to look back to Joel to see him staring down at his hands, almost like he’s offended by them. Suddenly, he clears his throat and shifts his body forward and away from you. Placing his hands on his thighs, he pushes himself to stand with a soft grunt. “Looks like it’s gettin’ late. You should probably head to bed.”

The tone in his voice makes you think he is uncertain of the decision, forcing himself to believe his own words. Regardless, he puts his hand out for you to grab and let him help pull you up. With a sigh to yourself, you let your shoulders sag and place your hand into his—the warmness of your palm in his rough ones making heat spread through the both of you, unaware of the effect you have on each other.

You wordlessly let him guide you inside first before he turns to grab his guitar and bring it inside, setting it on the back of your couch.

For a moment, you shift on your feet while you watch Joel gently shut the door behind him. You notice him lingering his palm against the door with his back to you and see the rapid rise and fall of his back.

Tension seems to radiate in the air around you—the interruption leaving you annoyed like a child throwing a tantrum, but you bottle that feeling and shove it down.

Joel slowly turns around with his head bowed until he faces you and looks up into your eyes, flicking his own between them. He shakes away a thought, looking off to the side and clearing his throat. A deep frown stays etched onto his face as he speaks, his voice coming out thick and deep. “Um, did you want me to…”

His wrist flicks as he gestures towards the couch, wondering if you wanted him to stay the night over here again. 

You shake your head. “I’ll be okay on my own tonight. I feel more safe, and uh… I don’t wanna make you spend another night on that thing.” What you don’t say is that you do want him to stay over. Not because you didn’t want to be alone, but because you wanted to be around him.

Joel chews on the inside of his cheek as he nods, his fingers twitching at his sides and he balls his hands into fists and flexes them.

You linger expectedly, hoping for some sign of… something. The thought is useless when Joel briefly passes his eyes over you and says, “Well… g’night, then.”

He turns his back to you and heads towards the door. You look down at your feet and shut your eyes, sighing to yourself. Stupid… so stupid.

With his hand on the doorknob, Joel stands at the door hesitantly. You lift your head and frown as you wait. Did he need something?

You see the profile of his face as he hovers near the door, his face pinched in concentration as he takes a deep breath in before lifting his head towards you. The intensity of his gaze makes the air feel like it’s been sucked out of you. Your expression twitches in confusion while you watch him study you, thoughts racing through his head that you try to decipher through his eyes.

A few seconds pass when you see Joel’s face settle, his mind seeming to have made some decision unbeknownst to you. His face twists up in a mix of pain and frustration before he mutters, “Oh, fuckin’ hell.”

With those words, he crosses the short distance between you two with three long strides, grabbing both sides of your face with his hands and tilting his head to capture your lips with his own.

The action has your body stumble to try and find your balance. The force in which he collided with you makes you think he was too impatient to stop in front of you first—the only thing on his mind being to get to you as soon as possible. Doing this.

A brief pause goes by for your brain to catch up with what’s happening, and you move your lips against his own while grabbing the sides of his shirt to steady yourself, both physically and mentally.

You feel and hear Joel take a deep inhale through his nose once he feels your response, kissing you with more purpose like he was holding back in case the kiss was unwanted on your end. The intensity of his kiss has a quiet whimper leaving you, in turn making a rumbling groan come from the back of Joel’s throat.

Your hands slide up his side and wrap around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you while his own hands shift from your face and into your hair, holding the back of your head gently.

Eventually, his kisses become more slow and languid as he draws back just enough to press his forehead against yours. You both stare at each other’s mouths that are left parted open from the heavy breathing leaving you both. Joel tilts his head slightly to get a full view of your face, giving you time to study his as well. The pupils of his eyes are blown wide until there’s more black than brown. His lips are red and swollen from your kisses, his cheeks flushed.

His eyes dart across your face, unable to find anywhere to settle as he looks from your lips to your eyes, like he’s trying to memorize the way you look in this exact moment. The gleam in his eyes has your breath hitch in your throat. 

His features soften as he brings his hands to hold your face, gently rubbing his thumbs across the apple of your cheeks. You watch his gaze land on your lips before he softly laughs, his face breaking into what you think has to be the most beautiful smile you have ever seen.

“Was that okay?” He asks in a whispered tone.

The tension in your body melts as you laugh in response to his question, your smile matching his own. “More than okay.”

His brows push together and raise up slightly in the middle, his eyes so soft. “You have no idea how fuckin’ long I’ve wanted to do that, darlin’.”

The admittance makes your head spin. “Can’t be much longer than me.”

He breathes out a laugh at that. “You tellin’ me I could’ve done this sooner?” 

You shrug with a teasing smirk. “Guess so, Miller.”

He shakes his head slowly with a lazy half-smile on his face. “Nothin’ but trouble,” he mutters, to himself more than to you. Looking back down to your lips, he breathes a question. “Can I kiss you again?”

Your answer comes in the form of placing your hands on the tops of his shoulders and bringing yourself towards him again. Joel meets you halfway and sighs into your mouth at your approval. You feel his tongue lightly run over your lips, silently seeking permission. You welcome the offer and part your lips, feeling his tongue dip into the parted space and swirling it with your own.

The two of you stand there for however long, your tongues dancing as your hands roam over each other’s bodies, until you both pull back to catch your breath for a moment. That brief period of time you spend not touching each other makes the air shift. The tension that hangs in the air becomes more charged, nearly choking you. The need and impatience you had silently shared without the other knowing seems to snap—having waited so long for something that feels so good. Internally cursing yourselves for not doing anything sooner.

You look up to meet Joel’s eyes, listening to the sounds of your breathing mingling in with the soft tick of the clock in your living room, when you both share a silent agreement. You collide with one another once more, your lips moving against each other more urgently. Hungrier. 

Suddenly, Joel’s moving your bodies until your back hits the bottom of your staircase railing. He shifts you around the corner of it, both of you scrambling up the steps and only separating every couple seconds to make sure you don’t blindly trip on the way up. Somewhere along the way your sweater and his coat are discarded hastily in an effort to appease the heat growing between you two, while also trying to get closer.

Reaching your bedroom door, your back hits it softly before you push it open behind you with frantic hands fumbling to find the doorknob. Once you hear the sound of the knob turning, Joel brings his hand up to forcibly push the door open and into the bedroom. As you step in, he turns you and presses you against the wall beside your door. His hands come up to rest against the wall on either of your face, caging you in.

Joel rips himself away from you to look down at you with a disheveled look. “Darlin’, you sure you wanna do this?”

You impatiently nod your head, fully aware of what you want, and lean forward to kiss him again before being stopped when he pulls his face back another inch.

Raising his brows, he speaks your name in a more serious tone. “I need you to say it.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

He gulps as he looks to your lips before shaking his head to focus, not wanting to get distracted. “I’m serious. I gotta… darlin’, I need to make sure. After everythin’ yesterday I–”

He cuts himself off, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them and looking to the floor. You bring your hands to either side of his face in an effort to coax him into looking at you.

“Joel…”

His eyes fall shut at the sound of you calling his name, your voice soothing to him. When he opens his eyes to yours, he sees nothing but certainty in them. 

“I promise you, I am okay. I want this. I want you. Regardless of what happened, I know how I feel. I’ve known for a while. I… I’ve wanted this for a while,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “And I don’t just mean the physicality of it. I just mean… all of you. You’re what I want.”

Joel’s eyes flick between yours while scanning your face for any signs of doubt, but finding none. His own desire fights to take over, making him sigh and rest his forehead on yours.

You see his shoulders relax and feel his hand come up in between your bodies. Looking down, you see him holding his right hand with his pinky finger sticking out. Biting back a smile, you return the gesture to him, your agreement having Joel immediately leaning forward to steal your lips into a kiss the moment he felt the first touch of your finger wrapping around his.

Your body arches off the door and into him more and more as he deepens the kiss further, more frenzied as his own body leans naturally into yours. It feels as though this is a release of every single moment that has come before tonight begging to be let out—the both of you desperately needing to feel the other as close as humanly possible.

Joel lifts you off of the wall to bring you over to your bed, laying you down before stepping back. You scoot your body further up the bed towards your pillows, your hands braced against the comforter as Joel begins to remove his shirt while standing at the foot of your bed. Your throat goes dry at the sight of his exposed skin. 

Sure, you knew he was broad. You’ve seen the expanse of his shoulders when he’s not wearing his thick winter coats. You’ve seen him wear t-shirts all the time in the warmer seasons. Seen the way the fabric would cling to his back and highlight the hard lines of his body as he sweat under the sun. But nothing could make you feel any less in awe at the man standing before you. Large, toned arms lay at this side. Muscles flexing as he works his shirt over his head and throws it somewhere in your room. Graying hair scattered across his chest that, as your eyes move down his body, you notice a trail of thicker, darker hair disappearing below the belt of his jeans. His soft tummy on display contrasting the hardness that is prominent in other parts of his body.

“Like what you see?”

You flinch at the words, not realizing how long you had been staring. You see a smirk on Joel’s face and your cheeks turn bright red from having been caught in your obvious gawking.

He saves you from embarrassment by kneeling onto the bed and crawling over to you, leaning you back so you lay with your head against the pillows. His body settles over yours, making your legs part instinctively to make space for him, and cups your face with one hand while using his other to roam across your body as he kisses you.

His hand travels down over your mid-section and lands at the bottom of your shirt, wrapping his finger around the hem and begins lifting the fabric. A sliver of your stomach gets exposed to the cool air, shocking you into focus as you suddenly break away and place your hands on his arms to stop him.

“Wait.”

Joel immediately stops, hovering his body higher over yours to give you more space as he looks down at you with concern filling his features. “What is it?”

You momentarily freeze, the realization making you suddenly nervous for his reaction.

At your silence, Joel becomes increasingly worried and rushes out to say, “Darlin’, if you wanna stop then you say the word and we stop.”

You shake your head assuredly. “No!” The word comes out in a panic and you take a slow breath in to compose yourself. “No, it’s not that I– I don’t want to stop, I swear.”

Joel’s worry lessens, his face softening a little. He gently responds, “Okay. What is it, then? What’s wrong?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, anxiety building in you, but he only reassures further. “Sweetheart, whatever it is, I promise you can tell me.”

Opening your eyes, you keep your gaze trained to his chest to avoid making eye contact with him as you talk. “I… I’ve never…”

You weren’t embarrassed about your lack of experience. The world being what it is, and it starting during your time as an adolescent, made it so intimacy and having a partner was never high on your list of priorities, if at all. It did, however, worry you that Joel wouldn’t want this with you right now.

He remains silent for a moment before he gently speaks your name, giving you the push to raise your eyes up to his. What you see is not judgment, but soft understanding with a firm look in his eyes.

He knows what you mean and sits there silently. You’re unsure of what to say until he slowly brings his face down to press a slower kiss that relaxes your body. He pulls back slightly to place a quick kiss to your bottom lip before lifting his head to look at you more directly.

“Promise that’s okay, darlin’. Ain’t gonna change anythin’ for me, alright?”

You nod at him. The fact you hadn’t done anything before doesn’t deter you from wanting this with him—you just wanted him to know beforehand. 

Joel looks at you with a more serious yet still tender gaze. “You still sure ‘bout this?”

You wordlessly nod, but he pushes for more. “M’serious, baby. Any point you wanna stop or slow down at all you–”

The name, mixed with the safety and trust he provides you with his words, makes you cut him off by impatiently pulling his face down to you. The force of it makes his balance above you stumble for a bit before he mutters a curse under his breath.

You take control of the decision by taking his hand and guiding it to the hem of your shirt like it was a moment ago. Feeling your eager initiative, you feel the vibrations of him moaning into your mouth before you hear it—the noise causing a whimper to leave the back of your throat as your mind becomes clouded in euphoria.

Grabbing onto the bottom of your shirt, he slowly lifts it up your body and over your head as you lean forward to help him. Discarding your shirt somewhere across the room, he takes a second to look down at you, slowly admiring you as you did him. Although your anxiety from the newness of this moment makes you unable to match the confident and teasing look he had minutes before, even though you try.

His eyes travel over your body and come back up to your face where he notices the hesitation in your eyes—the way your hands twitch at your sides as you fight the urge to cover yourself.

Joel brings his hand to hold your face and comes close enough to whisper inches from you. “You don’t gotta be nervous, darlin’.” Taking another look down at you, he laughs in disbelief. “Can’t tell ya how fuckin’ lucky I am to be with someone so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn hot at his words, his hands melting the tension from your body as they slide behind you to unhook your bra. Slipping the straps off your shoulders, he curses under his breath before leaning down to hover his face over one of your breasts. Joel pauses to look up at you through hooded eyes, seeking permission before you quickly nod your head and feel his lips wrap around your nipple that stands hard and sensitive. 

You throw your head back as you breathe out moans at the unfamiliar sensation. You didn’t anticipate how good it would feel as he sucks and presses hot, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, alternating between both sides as he uses a hand to cup the other breast.

He trails kisses up your neck as you card your fingers through his hair, stopping to suck at your skin before dragging his lips across your jaw and to your lips, hungrily kissing you as you eagerly respond. 

One of his hands travels down to the button on your pants, stopping his mouth against yours for a moment until he feels you nod. You hold your breath as he unbuttons your bottoms, shifting his body down to remove them as he makes his way. Now on his knees and hovering above your legs, you watch as he lets out a staggered breath when looking at the now exposed skin.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, gesturing to your underwear. The last thing that separates him from seeing you fully. 

You slowly nod before he raises his eyebrows at you, waiting until you breathe out a shaky yes. With your permission, he grabs the sides of your underwear with his fingers and begins to peel the fabric off painfully slow. 

Your feet stay planted on the bed with your knees bent up as you lift your hips up to help him remove your underwear. Sliding his hands up your skin, his touch guides you to straighten out your legs, giving view to what he desires most in the moment.

His jaw clenches as his eyes roam across the space between your thighs, looking up at you a few seconds later with his eyes completely black and mouth parted open, breathing heavily.

Joel leans his body back to hover over yours, giving you a short kiss while stroking your hair. Pulling away, he asks you, “You ever touched yourself before?”

You nod against his hand that rests on the side of your head. Your words cause him to inhale deeply and shut his eyes in a form of restraint for a moment. Voice now thick with lust, he says, “Good. Helps me know what works best for you.”

His right hand runs down to hover between your legs, your breath catching in your throat at the touch. Slowly, he runs a finger through your folds, gathering the wetness that has accumulated. He groans. “Can I touch you, darlin’?”

Lightheaded, you nod and mutter a quick approval as you anticipate his touch. Using his thumb, Joel runs soft yet purposeful circles over your clit with the right amount of pressure. He moves to drag his middle finger through your slit, spreading your slick before curving his finger inside you, causing you to gasp and arch your back at the intrusion.

He leans his forehead on yours, pressing a kiss to your nose as he balances his weight on one elbow. Feeling him pause, you nod your head to encourage him to keep going and feel him move his finger in and out slowly, curving it diligently as if he knows your body. 

He continues this for a minute before he adds his ring finger, moving them in a come here motion while using his thumb to continue rubbing circles over your clit. “Oh god,” you gasp out as he hits a spot deep inside you after a few strokes, leaning your head back into your pillow and scrunching your face in a shock of pleasure.

Joel uses his free hand to stroke your hair while pressing light and comforting kisses across the side of your face. “That’s it,” he reassures you. “You’re doin’ so good for me. This feel good?”

You give a frantic nod. Joel smiles against your temple as he feels you begin to unintentionally clench around his fingers.

“You gonna come for me?” Nodding in response to him, he asks with a shaky breath, “What do you need from me?”

You struggle finding the words to speak, making him slow his movements to get your attention. The loss of friction causes you to look over at him with wide eyes until he presses. “You gotta tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what feels good.”

Letting out a frustrated whine, a sound that makes Joel teasingly smirk, you finally find the strength to spit out the words. “Just… fuck, Joel. Please just… keep going. Faster, please.”

He gives you a hum of approval before continuing the same motions at a slightly quicker speed—the feeling building up inside you as he rhythmically hits that spot you’ve never felt before tonight. 

The sounds of Joel’s praises and rigid panting against the side of your face, mixed with his thumb rubbing patterns on your clit, propels you closer to the edge.

A tight thread in your body snaps and you throw your head back clenching around his fingers, your body shuddering as you come. 

The moment you fall apart on his fingers, Joel lets out a low moan and leaves open-mouthed kisses across the side of your face as he continues to help you ride out your high, only slowly withdrawing his fingers when you stop shaking.

Your breathing more regulated, you blink open your eyes to Joel’s head dipped down into your neck and nipping at your skin, tracing the area with his tongue before pulling away. When he looks up to you, a cocky smile spreads on his face. “You feelin’ alright?”

You playfully roll your eyes and let your body sag further into bed at his question. “Yeah, just trying to find the ability to breathe right now.”  

He lets out a low laugh, letting his head fall onto your chest before looking back up at you with warm eyes. You bring your hands up to his face to pull him in for a slow kiss. Joel moves his body to lean into yours more, causing you to feel the hardness through his jeans that rests on your thigh. You let out a small gasp as you pull away and look down, gulping at the sight. Your nerves suddenly kick in again.

“Can I… um–”

You trail off and look down in between you two. Furrowing his brow, Joel looks down for a moment before he understands your offer. His face lifts back to yours as a softer expression takes over his features. Giving a small shake of his head, he says, “No, no. We won’t do that tonight.”

Insecurity washes over you as you look away, murmuring, “Do you not want me to…?”

Hearing the vulnerable tone in your voice, Joel’s eyes widen as he immediately clarifies himself. “Darlin’, no I–” He cuts off to let out a soft scoffing sound, breathing out a curse before looking at you with complete sincerity. “Believe me, that is absolutely somethin’ I want. Fuck, I’ll take anythin’ you would ever wanna give me, but tonight is ‘bout you. You don’t need to be doin’ that tonight, okay, sweet girl?”

Looking off to the side, you chew the inside of your cheek lightly. “What if I want to?”

Your question makes a low groan leave the back of Joel’s throat before he shuts his eyes to compose himself. Opening them back up, you see such a strong desire in them. “I promise, if that’s still what you want, then another time, okay?” Looking down at your body, he lets out a soft laugh. “I ain’t as young as I used to be, darlin’, and I got plans for tonight. Wanna make this as comfortable as possible for you. Plus, I’m fightin’ the urge to not come in my fuckin’ jeans like a god damn teenager already.”

You let out a giggle at that. Looking back down at the tent in his pants, you let out a slight wince envisioning the constriction. “You know, if I’m completely naked it feels only fair that you do the same. If you’re uncomfortable you can…” 

Joel nods and takes the chance to stand and remove his jeans and underwear. With the discarded clothing, you make the same face you gave him when he took his shirt off, except with wider eyes—a mix of nerves and excitement striking you.

He takes your look for worry and crawls back over you gently to ease your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says. “We aren’t going to do that yet.” You scrunch your face in confusion at that. Then what are you going to do?

Joel moves his body down until his upper body sits between your thighs, face hovering over you as he looks up at you under his eyebrows. 

Your body tenses up and you feel the air disappear from your lungs for a moment as you look down at him, so achingly beautiful and so close to you, realizing what he was planning. “What are you doing?” 

His hands slide down your sides to land at the tops of your thighs. “Been wantin’ to get a taste of you all night. Longer than tonight if I’m bein’ honest with the both of us.” 

You feel your body burn hot at his words while a knot gets formed in your stomach. Furrowing your brows and wincing, you ask, “You… you want to do that?”

He gives you a look like you’re crazy before he sees the genuine confusion in your eyes. Pressing long kisses over the tops and insides of your thighs, you feel your body tense and gasp. He looks up at you, his gaze tender as he tells you, “I guarantee you, I very much want to. Only if you’ll let me.”

You stare at him, chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation as he looks at you up through his lashes. “So, can I, baby?”

A soft moan escapes you before you eagerly nod your head. “Fuck… oh my god, please.”

A smirk crosses Joel’s face at your enthusiasm, before he focuses his eyes back down, wrapping a hand underneath one of your thighs to hook your leg over his shoulder. He brings his mouth down between your thighs and you instantly respond as your body arches up with the contact. He presses kisses over you before you feel his tongue leaving small licks there, easing you into the act. The moment he dips his tongue into you, a sharp whine leaves your throat as you throw your head back in ecstasy. The feeling is beyond overwhelming, your body having not experienced something even close to this.

You find yourself biting your lip to suppress the sounds that want to come out, gripping your hands into the sheets at your sides with your eyes squeezed shut. Having started gentle, it’s as if Joel has become a man possessed as you hear and feel moans of his own as he tastes you. You feel him reach deeper, his movements more frantic as he swirls his tongue inside you, his nose bumping against your clit in the process. The friction makes you let out a particularly loud cry before you bring your hand up to your mouth to try and bite down to calm yourself.

Joel seems to notice the movement from you, and looks up before he pulls his face a few inches away from where you need him most. You feel like a child as you fight back a whine from the loss of contact. Looking down to see why he stopped, you’re left breathless from the lustful look in his eyes—his mouth and chin shining with your slick. 

Voice gruff, he says, “Don’t hold back.” You hesitate before he pushes with a determined look in his eyes. “Let me hear ya. Loud as you want.”

He waits until you nod and drop your hands back onto your pillow besides your face. Satisfied, he tilts his face back down to wrap his lips around your clit and suck gently, but with purpose. The feeling causes a sharp moan to leave you, crying out, “Oh fuck… Joel…”

He hums, moving his tongue back inside you to continue licking you so sweetly. You arch your back and almost squirm away from the intense feeling growing inside you. Having none of that, Joel brings one hand to your stomach, pressing down firmly to keep you in place. He looks up at you, using his hand that holds your leg over his shoulder to grab onto one of your hands. You make and hold eye contact with him as he guides your hand into his hair, encouraging you to grab onto him to hold yourself steady. Pulling away just enough, he rushes out, “Use me, darlin’. Let yourself feel good.” 

“But… I don’t want to hurt you–”

He groans, mouth already back on you, hurriedly mumbling against your skin, “Fuckin’ christ, make it hurt, darlin’. I don’t care just…” He trails off, too impatient to continue talking.

Still unsure at first, you only lightly hold your hand on his head, unsure of what to do. In that moment he moves the hand not holding you down to place a finger onto your clit, mouth still on you and tongue still greedily moving in you. The simultaneous pressure makes you let out a loud moan, your body reacting instantly as your grip in his hair tightens, pushing his face deeper against you without you even realizing. At that, Joel begins moaning into you, the vibration only bringing your orgasm closer. You think you hear a faint, muffled, “Good girl,” but you’re too distracted to hear clearly.

You can feel your orgasm coming closer, and Joel seems to notice too as he replaces his tongue with the two fingers he had in you earlier, curling them with accuracy into you. The feeling causes a frantic mix of whimpers and moans to leave your mouth, back arching and eyes screwed shut as you repeat his name like a mantra. 

Looking up at you, face glistening and lips swollen, he says, “Look at me.” The words don’t process in your mind right away, and he withdraws his fingers from you to grab your attention, the loss causing you to look down at him with frustration. He smirks, continuing the circles on your clit. “Need you to look at me when you come, baby.”

You shake your head. “I–I can’t, it’s…”

“You can,” he says. “Need to feel you come on my mouth, darlin. Let me see you.”

Face screwed in pleasure, you whine out an agreement and try to keep yourself looking at him. He smiles and brings his face down to continue moving his tongue inside you while still looking up at you. 

His thumb on your clit mixed with his tongue devouring you, and the look in his eyes makes your orgasm begin to wash over you. “Oh my– fucking… Joel,” you cry out, whimpering and holding his face closer to you with your hands tangled in his hair. He replaces his tongue with his fingers again so he can place his mouth on your clit, sucking as you ride out your high on his face, your thighs closing around his head. Your body shakes through your orgasm, ending with you squirming in overstimulation as Joel begins to slow his motions towards your end. 

Your orgasm dying down, you let your head fall back, eyes shut as you slowly try to control your breathing. You feel Joel take his mouth off you, and you open your eyes halfway to find him bringing the two fingers that were inside you to his mouth, tasting you. The sight makes you clench in want, surprised at your body’s response to him still after everything.

He brings his body up to hover his face over yours, one hand smoothing your probably wild hair with a lazy smile on his face. “Did so good for me, darlin’,” he says, peppering kisses across your face while you shut your eyes and take deep breaths in and out. “My sweet girl.”

His praise makes you pull his face down to yours, hungrily moving your lips against his, making you notice the taste of yourself. He gives a soft hum before bringing one hand to cup the side of your face, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly you pull away and rush out, “I need you.”

His breathing stutters at your words. Your words shock even you, your need to feel him filling all of your senses—your body aching for it.

“Darlin’, you sure? We can take a break or stop here completely if you need a second–”

You frantically shake your head, borderline pouting.“No, I’m ready. I promise. I want this. I want you. Joel, please,” your voice ending in a whine.

Joel shuts his eyes, his resolve crumbling before he nods softly. “Okay… okay, don’t worry, I got ya.”

Straightening his body to hover directly over yours, you shift yourself a bit higher on your pillows. Joel reaches down between your thighs and you feel him run his fingers across you. The contact makes you gasp and whine from overstimulation until he gently hushes you. “M’just makin’ sure you’re ready, darlin’. Wanna make sure your body is prepared.”

You nod in understanding. “I am. I promise, Joel. Please…”

He reaches to hold his cock in his hand, the movement making you look to watch him place his cock against your folds, causing you to both let out a groan. The contact makes him screw his eyes shut, seeing you clench around nothing in an effort to soothe your desire. He quickly composes himself, looking at you with a serious face. “M’gonna go slow, but if it hurts, or if you need me to stop at any point, you tell me. Okay?”

You nod wordlessly before he raises an eyebrow and you remember. “Yes,” you say out loud. “I will. I promise I’ll tell you.”

Content with your answer, he notches the head of his cock against your entrance before he slowly pushes himself inside you until only the tip sits in you. “Fuck,” Joel says.

The feeling causes both of you to moan out loud, Joel letting his body fall forward a bit before he catches himself on his elbows, bringing his forehead to yours and the two of you breath into each other's mouths. He pushes his brows together, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched. “How do you feel?”

Your face twisted in an unknown feeling, you whisper, “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt, it's just… I’m getting used to it.”

He nods, waiting for your permission to keep going. “You just tell me when you’re ready, okay, darlin’?” 

Nodding, you two stay there for a moment until your body feels more adjusted. “Okay,” you say. “More. Keep going.”

Pushing himself further into you a bit, the fullness you feel makes a sharp noise rip from the back of your throat. Joel leans his head into the pillow, turning his head to place kisses in your hair and whisper reassurance. “You’re doin’ good, darlin’. Doin’ so good for me.”

The stretch is what you feel the most—not painful, just uncomfortable from your body not used to any feeling similar to this.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, softly.

“No,” you shake your head sincerely. “It’s just… really thick.” You both feel yourself pulse and clench around his length as you slowly but surely get used to the feeling. 

Guilt builds inside you as you see warmth in his eyes mixed with what looks like discomfort from taking it slow. “I’m sorry,” you say, suddenly feeling yourself wash over with insecurity.

Confused and worried, Joel frantically comforts you. “Hey, hey, hey—darlin’, you do not need to apologize.” You open your mouth to say something about how you feel bad for making him wait, but Joel cuts you off gently, but fiercely, speaking your name with a whisper. “I am completely okay. Fuck… darlin’, I’d wait forever for you. I just want to make sure you feel okay. Don’t worry about me.”

His words ease you enough for you to tell him to continue. He pulls out a bit before pushing in, feeding more of himself inside you. This time, you feel almost no discomfort, pleasure taking over you more and more as he slowly slides himself further.

Your face twists into pleasure, your mouth falling open with a moan. “More.”

Joel falters. “It’s just a bit more, darlin’. We don’t need to rush–”

You cut him off with a whine of frustration, rambling out, “Joel, I'm begging you. It feels good but I need more…”

He groans but still doesn’t give you what you want, so you keep going. “I feel so full. I need more… it’s not enough. I need to feel all of you, fuck. Baby, please–”

The moment he hears the affectionate name, it’s as if whatever was holding him back just broke and he pushes the last bit of him, crying out your name. “Fuckin’ hell, darlin’.”

“Oh my god,” you let out. Your mouth drops open in shock and bliss at the feeling of him completely inside you. Joel recovers enough to say, “Fuck, you feel okay?”

You frantically nod your head, hands gripping his shoulders tightly before you beg. “Please, move. I need you to move.”

Your voice trailing off into a string of moans, Joel begins to slowly withdraw himself from you until only the head sits in you before he slowly pushes back inside until you feel the base of his cock flushed against you.

The feeling consumes and overwhelms you. How intense and how good it feels sends your mind reeling—the reality of finally feeling all of him.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good, god–my sweet girl… So fuckin’ good, darlin’.”

You whimper and squirm at the praise, hands beginning to roam over his back and dig in as he brings one hand down between the two of you, fingers settling on your clit as he begins to rub circles over you.

“I–holy fuck–” 

You can’t find the words to speak properly, your voice coming out in broken sentences mixing with moans. Joel understands, feeling your body’s response to him inside you. “How does it feel?”

You’re distracted until he brings his mouth on yours, kissing you fiercely before pulling away. “Tell me how you feel, baby.”

Eventually you find the strength to speak. “Good… you feel so fucking good Joel.” You break off in another moan as he takes himself halfway out before pushing back in with a hard thrust—wrapping his arm underneath one of your knees and allowing himself to hit a deeper spot in you that has your vision blurring.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel this good, and a part of you believes that half the reason is because it’s Joel—your already developed feelings for him making the moment bring stubborn tears to your eyes. Noticing this, Joel’s face fills with worry for a moment but you don’t give him the chance to speak.“It doesn’t hurt. It feels so good, Joel, I just…”

Understanding, Joel leans his forehead on yours. “I know,” he whispers. He repeats praises in your ear of, “You feel so good, baby. Fuckin’ perfect, god–”

Increasing the pace of his thrusts in time with the movements of his finger on your clit makes your body feel like it’s been lit on fire, a loud moan leaving you as you feel yourself reaching your end.

Frantically, you start saying, “Fuck , Joel… I’m gonna–”

Nodding his head against your forehead, he says, “I know, baby. I feel you clenchin’ down on me– fuckin’ christ you feel so…”

He trails off, encouraging your orgasm with his words and the pleasure he’s bringing you. “Want you to come for me, baby. Need to feel you come ‘round my cock. Need to hear you say my name darlin’, please–”

You clench down around him, body writhing as you arch into him, a cry leaving your throat. You repeat his name like a mantra in between loud moans and sounds you didn’t know you were capable of.

Joel helps you through it, keeping pace with his thrusts and thumb on your clit. “That’s it, darlin’. Doin’ so good for me. My good girl. Fuck, I–”

He cuts himself as his face screws up in pleasure at the feeling of you fluttering around him. Having come down a bit from your own orgasm, you encourage him, saying, “Joel, I want to feel you. I need it so bad, please…”

His thrusts become more staggered and unhinged, a whimper leaving his throat at your words. “M’comin’, I’m–fuck,” he says, crying out your name. Pushing himself deep inside you, he stops as his body shakes from his own orgasm, your name falling off his lips like a sinful prayer as his head falls into your neck.

The warm feeling of him finishing inside you overwhelms you. His moans and grunts in your ear fill your mind until all your senses become taken over by Joel.

His own orgasm finishing, Joel lets his body weight fall more on you, his exhaustion causing his strength to falter as he struggles to hold himself over you. You welcome the weight, relishing in the feeling of how heavy and big he is, letting it take over you in a wave of comfort.

The two of you lay there for a moment, the only sounds being the both of you trying to regulate your breathing mixed with quiet murmurs of praise coming from Joel. Your hands move from the grip they held on his back over to his hair, holding his body impossibly closer to you. Your touch causes his body to completely relax, allowing himself to sag against you as he lays his head in the crook of your neck, turning his face to press lazy kisses along your jaw and cheek. 

Having come back down a bit, Joel lifts his head until his face hovers over yours, eyes staring into yours with a half-smile on his face.

Your expression matching his, you whisper a shy, quiet, “Hi.”

His smile grows, a soft laugh leaving his lips. “Hi.”

You pull his face down to bring his lips to yours for a deep, slow kiss, feeling Joel melt at your touch. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth at the kiss, shifting his hand to tangle into your hair.

A few moments later, he pulls away from you and looks down between the two of you. “I’m gonna take myself out, okay?”

You nod, fingers running through his hair in mindless motions as he slowly retracts himself from inside you. The friction causes you to let out a whine that he quiets with a kiss. Having taken himself out, you both sigh at the loss of contact. Some voice in your head wishes he could stay in you forever. That you needed to feel every part of him on and in you for as long as possible.

Pressing soothing kisses across the side of your head, he pulls away and begins to stand up from the bed. The action makes your stomach drop, suddenly feeling the most vulnerable you had felt all night.

Is he going to leave?

Noticing your worried look, Joel presses a knee into the bed to lean over you, his voice soft. “I’m just goin’ to get somethin’ to help clean you up, okay?”

You slowly nod and don’t take your eyes off him as you watch him walk into your bathroom and hear him opening a cabinet, followed by the sounds of water running. He walks back into your bedroom holding a small rag he had slightly damp with water. 

Sitting down on the bed beside you, he takes the rag and begins to wipe between your thighs. The contact makes you hiss, Joel giving you a soft wince in apology at the overstimulation. Finished, he pulls away the rag and squeezes your hand before getting back up to discard the rag in your laundry basket that sits in your bathroom. 

You let your eyes look around your room as the reality of the night sets in you, feeling nothing but bliss.

Joel walks back over to your side of the bed, reaching down to grab his boxers and pull them over his hips before he gestures downstairs. “M’gonna go fill us both up some glasses of water. You go ‘head and do what you need to do before bed, alright?”

You nod, sitting up and letting Joel help pull you up. Standing up with two feet, you stumble for a moment, thankful Joel was holding onto your hands still. You slowly look up at him to find him fighting a smirk on his face. 

You scoff playfully. “Don’t look so proud, Miller.”

He barks out a laugh at that, waiting for you to find your balance before letting go of you. “No idea what you mean, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes in response, heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed while Joel heads down into the kitchen. When you come out, you find him setting your waters on the tables either side of your bed. 

At the sound of the door opening, he turns to you with a small smile as you grab and pull your underwear on. Searching through your drawers for a shirt to wear to sleep, you’re interrupted by the sound of Joel clearing his throat behind you. You turn around to find him nervously rubbing the back of his neck, holding out his shirt for you. 

Raising one eyebrow, you ask, “... Do you want me to wear that?”

He shyly nods at you before you grab the shirt and pull it over you. “Didn’t take you for the shy type,” you tease.

He lets out a low laugh at that, grabbing your hand wordlessly and bringing you to bed after you take a big drink of water. Laying down first, he guides your body to lay next to his. You settle your face on his chest and wrap an arm over his stomach as he puts an arm around you to pull you in closer to him. 

The feeling of his warmth makes you realize the exhaustion you feel, your eyes beginning to fall shut.

“How do you feel?”

You look up to find him with an unsure look on his face. “Amazing,” you respond. 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he takes his free arm to hold your hand that lays on his stomach, looking down at your intertwined fingers and fidgeting. “Was it, um… was it good for you?”

For the first time in the entire night, you notice the uncertainty in Joel’s voice and expression. The whole night, he was focused so much on making you feel good, that you didn’t think that he would be equally vulnerable to the experience.

The realization makes you straighten a little bit, lifting your head and looking at him more directly. His eyes settle on yours, brows drawn together and raised a bit in the middle. “Joel. You were perfect. Tonight was everything I could’ve ever wanted and more.”

His eyes flit between yours, checking for any sign of a lie in you. You move your hand that holds his to wrap your pinky finger around his. The two of you still maintaining eye contact, you see his lips quirk up at the corner before his face relaxes, letting you know he believes you. “Good,” he breathes out. “That’s all I want, darlin’.”

You settle your chin on his chest. “What about you? Was it good for you?”

He gives you a dramatic look as if you were crazy, making you let out a small giggle. “Baby… this has been the best night of my damn life.” You laugh at his response before he continues. “And trust me, that’s a long ass time to compare to.”

Your cheeks hurt from the smile that graces your face, Joel matching your expression with his own smile before he leans in to place a slow and drawn out kiss to your lips. Pulling away, he looks at you and notices the heaviness of your eyelids. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

Nodding, you move your head to rest on his chest once more, feeling his heartbeat against your ear. Settling into him more comfortably, he moves to wrap his arms around you the way he did a few minutes ago. Pressing one final kiss to the top of your head, he whispers, “G’night, darlin’.”

Eyes closed, your exhaustion pulling you away already, you only offer a hum in response—feeling pure content for the first time in your life as the thump of his heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: honesty hour lol. i really was sick, but i also was nitpicking about this chapter for way too long because i wanted it to be perfect. i just needed to rip the bandaid off and post it. hope you guys like it! 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @silksepia @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63 @lizzie-cakes @vanishintoyoubby @keileighr if anyone else wants to be tagged, or if i missed any, then please let me know!

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter nine

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: fully recovered from your injury, you and joel go on a typical routine patrol that takes a sharp turn wc: 11.5k. buckle up rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, angst, graphic violence, gore, blood, TW: topics surrounding SA (nothing happens, it’s mainly just alluded to the subject but please be careful while reading and feel free to message me beforehand for specific details), hurt/comfort, trauma, small bits of fluff, reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn a/n: double update this weekend because i will be gone next weekend and won't be able to post until the last week of may. enjoy this long one (also as an apology for the last chapter being so short). be kind to yourselves. ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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IX. X&Y

I dive in at the deep end You become my best friend I want to love you but I don't know if I can I know something is broken And I'm trying to fix it Trying to repair it Any way I can

As you had assumed, your shoulder had healed well, courtesy of Joel’s fine stitching, and you soon were more than capable of returning to your usual routine. With the weeks that had gone by, the spring steadily unfolding into the welcoming heat of summer allowed you to become more appreciative of this season, considering the colder temperatures this city was capable of having. 

Your continuing friendship and abundant amount of time spent with Joel had settled any previous anxieties you had—the two of you falling into a pattern of familiarity that made his presence comforting and one that you purposefully sought out.

One thing that had changed was Ellie, specifically in regards to Joel. 

You hadn’t pushed, or even asked about it in the first place, but all you know is that things had been more… tense between them. A part of you chalked it up to her being so close to becoming an adult, and wanting more freedom. She was beginning patrol training soon, and the idea made Joel nervous with her being out there outside of his watch. Joel had asked Tommy to get her supervised shifts set up with the two brothers, you, or Jesse—the young man you had gone on patrol with the day your shoulder was injured, who had proven himself to be a good fit as an up-and-coming leader in Jackson.

The extent of what you had learned was that a certain patrol shift ended up with Joel and Ellie fighting off a decent sized group of infected when checking out a music store. Since that day, Ellie had been standoffish to Joel, and you could see the impact it left on him. He seemed more on edge and uncertain around her—a stark contrast to the easy understanding that usually flows between the two of them. It was a simmering tension that didn’t raise an eyebrow to all of Jackson, but you saw it.

The advice you had tried to give him was that she was a teenager who was growing and wanting her independence, but his reactions always gave off the impression something else had been going on—subconscious nods that told you your perspective on it wasn’t the full story. You had never, and would never, push the topic though. The most you’d been doing was hoping that Joel knew he could confide in you if needed. 

To you, Ellie was changing—not just physically, but also with the people she surrounded herself with. You stopped hearing much about Cat, her close friend you have briefly spoken to occasionally, and seen Ellie around a newer friend of hers that she has been spending an increasing amount of time with. Dina. She was a sweet girl. Very vivacious and teasing—her energy making it difficult for her to not capture everyone’s heart. You understood why Ellie had gotten close to her, and the idea warmed your heart. Ellie seemed more comfortable around Dina—the girl bringing Ellie out of her shell just a bit. It was a reassuring feeling to know that, whatever was going on in Ellie’s life, she seemed to have others she was close to that she could rely on.

“You all set?”

You’re brought out of your thoughts when hearing a voice as you were locking your front door behind you, turning to see Joel standing at the end of your walkway as you lock your front door—the warm air hitting your skin telling you that patrol would be good today.

“Yup. All good,” you respond with a smile.

Joel gives you a warm look in response as you make your way over to him, the two of you falling into pace with each other seamlessly as you make your way through town and over to the stables. Reaching the area, you find that Jesse is posted out front, and feel pleased as he greets you with a kind smile the moment he sees you.

“Hey Jesse, how’s your mom been?” You ask. 

You hadn’t spent so much time with the man at first, but ever since your injury, you had spent enough moments with him after that that you felt comfortable being friendly with him. He was polite enough to check on you after that day—occasionally stopping when he saw you around town to catch up and see how things were. Being one of the newer recruits, he was younger, probably early to mid twenties, but just as prepared as any of the others who went past the gates for patrol.

“She’s been alright. She told me Dina brought over some lemon cakes that were a recipe of yours she and Ellie made—it was amazing. Think she’d smack me if I didn’t pass along the compliment to you.”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest at his words, but your attention is cut off when you hear someone clear your throat behind you. 

You look back to see Joel standing closer over your shoulder, glaring down at Jesse. You didn’t notice how, or when Joel had gotten so close to you, but his frame hovers over you and nearly engulfs you in his presence. 

“Think we should head out now,” Joel says, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Turning back to say goodbye to Jesse before heading out, you feel bad when you see the young man look down to the ground sheepishly. You assume that Jesse being with you when you were shot had made Joel act odd around him, at least when the topic revolved you. Joel was always fine with Jesse being around Ellie, even agreeing that Jesse has proved himself of his capabilities, but perhaps Joel didn’t like him when it came to your own safety.

Watching Jesse walk away, you and Joel mount your horses—a playful comment leaves your lips as you turn to him, prepared to make your way over to the gates. “Ready, partner?” 

Your words seem to make Joel’s body relax from his previous tense state around Jesse, a half-smirk gracing his lips before shaking his head lightheartedly—his chest moving a bit as you see him try to suppress a laugh. “Sure am, darlin’,” he says, before tugging the reins of Callus to alert him to begin moving with you following them close behind.

The trek to your destination went quick and without any difficulty. Finished checking your designated area, Joel suggested the two of you venture a bit further into a neighboring city. 

“Tommy told me ‘bout it. He said we could find some extra supplies in the area. Apparently he and Eugene had found it and said the area seemed mostly clear of infected. It’s a bit of a trip, but, I have the time if you feel up for it?”

You nod in agreement as the two of you ride your horses over to the city. As he said, it did take some time, but the two of you dismounted and tied up your horses before walking through the city, checking in and out of different stores for some items.

One store that you pass happens to be a coffee shop. The moment he notices the sign in the shop window with a faded coffee cup design, Joel lets out a half-sigh, half-groan—a vocal cue of nostalgia that makes you smirk.

“You know, you do have coffee at home. Like, so much.”

Joel makes a soft tsk sound. “Not the same, darlin’. S’good enough to make me pretend like it’s the real thing, but not the same.”

His words that end in a sigh have you breaking into a small laugh. “Ah, yes. Possibly the only thing worse than living with infected is not having Starbucks, huh?”

Joel catches the sarcasm in your town, side-eyeing you as you two continue to make your way in and out of the various shops along the street. 

“Okay, little miss trouble, you tellin’ me you ain’t got nothin’ you’d kill to have again?”

The nickname he’s used for you more often causes your face to flush, making you look down at your feet to try and shove the feeling away as you think about his answer. You let out an exaggerated hum, tilting your head to the sky and squinting as you try to figure out your answer. 

“Something for pleasure? Chocolate covered strawberries. Something practical? A silk pillowcase.

You turn to face Joel and see him give you an amused look. “Chocolate covered strawberries, huh?”

“Mhm. Chocolate covered strawberries were my favorite dessert.”

“Think you could make it?” Joel asks.

You ponder on the idea. “I think chocolate would be technically possible. Probably just wouldn’t taste as sweet as all those artificial things they threw in food. I know I seem to make good carrot cake and lemon cakes, but I’m not sure I even know what I would need to make chocolate.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel open his mouth to speak before he seems to quickly shake away the thought. Instead, he twists his face in confusion. “And a pillowcase? You have those?”

His tone makes you slightly laugh. “A silk one, Joel.” Your clarification only makes him roll his eyes playfully, none the wiser of the difference. “It’s gentler on your hair. Guess I just miss tiny things for self-care. I always slept with a silk pillowcase before. Made my hair softer or whatever.”

For some reason, the memory stings more than you had thought as you miss the simple luxuries of the world before. You swallow down the thought and sigh. “Now… that is something I have no idea how to get.” With a teasing, yet wishful sigh, you say, “I’ll live, though.”

Joel breathes out what sounds like a laugh. “Still, I’m sure it’d be nice to have.”

You look over at him to see him giving you a thoughtful look, the intensity of his gaze causing you to break eye contact and look forward. 

The two of you continue roaming through the stores, only finding a few bits of supplies that could be taken back to Jackson.

“So,” Joel says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Jesse’s cute.”

You look over to him, a surprised look on your face at the sudden topic, when you see him with a firm look on his face.

“Didn’t know you swung that way, Miller.”

He laughs loudly, not expecting your response before clarifying. “I meant, like, for you or… somethin’.”

You scrunch up your face at that. “He’s kinda young isn’t he?”

“He’s around 23, I think… Not that far off from you.”

“I’m in my early thirties Joel,” you say while laughing awkwardly. “Not exactly the age range I’m looking for.”

“Closer to his age than mine. ‘Bout ten years is not much of a difference compared to the twenty-somethin’ year difference to mine.”

His persistence on the topic has you looking at him quizzically, only to find him looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with you as you see a muscle tick in his jaw. 

Trying to ease the odd tension that’s built, you laugh and ask, “You implying my only options are between Jesse and you?”

Joel tenses up at the question briefly, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The rigidness goes away as quickly as it came as he shrugs with no other response, his lips settling into a tight line and a frown appearing on his face.

The awkwardness that’s been created from your words has you biting the inside of your cheek while trying to come up with a response to redirect the topic. “I mean, I guess? He’s cute and all but… no. He’s not someone I see like that.”

Joel gives a thoughtful nod as you two cross onto the other side of the street. “Thought it might be an option for you, is all. Assuming you aren’t with anyone–”

You give him a deadpan look at the suggestion before he can finish. “Trust me, you’d be the first to know if that was the case. Plus, I don’t know… I’ve had people ‘flirt’ with me without knowing because I just didn’t even think to see them that way. Maria and Ellie always have to call it out when it happens because I’m apparently ‘too blind’.”

The memory makes you laugh before another thought comes to your mind. “How about you? Anyone around?”

The mere thought has Joel scoffing as he shakes his head. “Think I’ve solidified myself as someone who is unapproachable.”

You laugh at that. “Hey, you didn’t scare me off that easily,” you say pointedly. The two of you continue walking side by side as you push a bit further. “What about Esther?”

Joel suddenly whips his head to look at you as if you spoke another language. “Esther? What about her?”

“Oh come on Joel,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “She’s always staring at you, trying so desperately to get you to talk to her. She seems cute—nice enough.” 

You’ve seen her around before and spoken to her. She was… fine. Pretty, though. An older woman, closer to Joel’s age, whose voice was a bit too high-pitched with a smile that was a bit too fake. You first picked up on her advances to Joel at the bars when she’d come sit beside him at the counter, leaning her body a bit too close to his to get him to look at her. He never did.

Your mention of Esther comes with a tinge of distaste in your tone, one that Joel doesn’t seem to miss as one corner of his lips quirk up just a bit before he shakes his head. “No chance in hell darlin’. She reminds me too much of the PTA moms I’d have to deal with at Sarah’s schools. Gonna be a big pass from me on that front.”

As you take in the information while nodding, an odd sense of relief falls off your shoulders. Something in you has you not wanting to drop the topic just yet. “So… there’s no one you got your eye on?”

You ask the question while looking at him, still walking side by side down the sidewalk, and see him turn his head to meet your gaze. His mouth parts open slightly as he looks down at your lips, his expression indicating he has a response.

“Hey there!”

At the sound, a chill runs down your spine as the two of you quickly spin your bodies around to see six men across the street a couple stores down, slowly walking closer to you. The one in the front and center appears to be older, with a handgun stationed at his hip, and a wide smile spread on his face. Two of the men stand on one side of him while the other three stay on his other side. Some are younger than the others, but each is seen holding shotguns and assault rifles in their hands positioned in front of them. 

Joel angles his body slightly in front of you, shielding their view of you as much as possible as he hisses, “Stay behind me.”

Complying, your hand slowly goes to rest on your own gun stationed at your hip as you take one step back to stand half-behind Joel.  You watch him as he grips his assault rifle slung around his neck a bit tighter.

The group settles about twenty feet away from you before the man in the middle speaks up with the same disturbing smile, making you realize it was him who spoke up in the first place. 

“You guys from around here?”

Resting your left hand on Joel’s back for comfort, you feel his body tense up further and see a slight tick in his jaw as he clenches it repeatedly, gritting out in a monotone voice, “Just passin’ through.”

The man waits for a few seconds to see if Joel will continue speaking before saying, “We don’t usually get many people come by here, so… it’s nice to see some friendly faces after looking at so many dead ones.” The words slip past his lips in an unsettling saccharine tone. “You two have a community of your own?”

Joel doesn’t respond verbally, and instead gives a single shake of his head, lying to the group so as to not let them know anything about Jackson. 

His smile falters for a moment before widening again. “You know, we got a settlement about a couple hours to the west… you two are more than welcome to come with!” His eyes trail away from Joel to settle on you before he adds, “We got plenty of women so your missus won’t feel too scared.”

The moment he looks at you to speak to you directly, you feel Joel shift in his feet for a moment before a low growl leaves his throat that’s only loud enough for you to hear. Voice thick and gruff, he responds, “We’re alright. Again, just makin’ our way through.” It’s clean. Final. Leaving no room for argument, but it doesn’t seem to satisfy them.

A younger one from the group speaks up, eyes on you over Joel’s shoulder. “Now, my mama raised me right, so I can’t in good conscience let a beautiful young lady go on her own when I could help her.” His eyes trail over Joel’s form before smirking. “Can’t imagine an old man like you is able to take… proper care of a woman like that in a world like this.”

The words insinuate something darker that has bile rising in your throat. Your palm on Joel’s back has you able to feel his reaction—his body tensing before practically vibrating in anger. Looking up to eye his profile, you see his jaw clenching and moving as he grinds his teeth together. From your view, Joel’s eyes can be seen shifting between the group frantically as his mind races with what the best move is.

Somehow, the group seems to realize his intentions before you do as you see them all grip their weapons tighter. At the same moment, Joel quietly spits out a sharp go to you. You waste no time at all as you immediately move to duck behind the abandoned car for cover that is parked to your right while you hear shouting before the men begin to shoot in your direction. You feel Joel’s hand on your back as he throws you both to the ground—the two of you pressing yourselves low against the side of the car.

The sounds of gunshots stop for a moment as you hear them walking closer to your position. You look at Joel with a panicked expression to see a focused look on him, but not before you see a flash of fear in his eyes when he looks at you.

Frantically, he looks around before he settles on one of the stores a few feet to the right of the car. You follow his gaze to notice that, in their attempt to shoot you two, the men had shot up the coffee shop you had gone into earlier—the glass windows shattered as shards of glass line the sidewalk below. Joel looks back at you for confirmation and you give him a single nod, knowing his plan without any words spoken between the two of you. He jerks his head in the direction of the café, instructing you to make a run for the shop as he peeks over to the car to cover you from the men. 

The place was further down from where the men were approaching from, allowing more distance to be created between them. Joel and you use the mailboxes and old bus stop benches for cover as you each take turns shooting at the men as you move. Making your way into the opening created from the broken windows, Joel makes sure to stay close behind you as you run in, the protection allowing you to duck behind the counter and bakery case before he jumps over to sit behind as well.

The continuous shooting as you two ran now stops. A voice you recognize as the first man who had spoken, the one who you assume is their leader, calls out to you both. “Oh come on, now. We don’t want to hurt you guys! Just want to make sure you both find your way out safely.” His voice drips with malice at the end, causing another bone chilling fear to course through you. 

Fear begins to wrap a hand around your throat and causes you to lose focus. You look at the wall in front of you while breathing erratically, trying to swallow down the panic and think of something. Joel nudges your shoulder to grab your attention, the contact briefly snapping you out of your thoughts. He gestures to your weapons that you both hold and nods in the direction to the group outside. You give your own nod of understanding, and he takes a deep breath while looking at you before you both take turns to poke your bodies out and shoot off a few shots to the group.

In the time you spend out of cover, you notice they are spread out around the front of the shop, surrounding you while using their own forms of cover.

The ordeal goes on for what feels like an eternity–the two of you only getting one man down in the process. Joel drops down next to you for cover again before cursing quietly. He looks around the shop and leans his body to look past you. Getting your attention, Joel leans in close to you to quietly rush out a command. “M’gonna go sneak around the side to try and catch ‘em off guard. You keep shootin’ them from the front to distract ‘em, alright?”

No time to debate, you simply nod in agreement and Joel wastes no time to crouch down and crawl his way behind the counter and back his way around. You lift your body to peek over the tops of the counter and fire off a few more shots at them before dropping back down. In that time, Joel’s plan succeeds by surprising them with the angle and getting down one of them in the process. More shouting is heard from the men, alerting you that Joel killed the one he snuck up on.

Two down, you tell yourself. You can do this.

The back-and-forth continues. You fire off a couple shots at them, take cover when they shoot at you. Inevitably, you knew someone would have to make a move that caught more off guard.

Thankfully, you’re able to take one more down and soon after, Joel takes his own down from behind one of the cars. You do a mental scan of the group, remembering who was a part of it and which ones would be left. Thinking over it, you realize that only two would remain—the younger one who couldn’t have been much older than a teenager, and the leader of the group who you haven’t heard from or seen him show himself as much as the others.

Angling your head a bit, you look to find Joel coming up on the younger one. The one who had made a comment about you.

Joel shoots him in the kneecap before swiftly kicking the gun out of the kid’s hand. A sharp cry of pain is heard from the boy as he begs for mercy. Looking through the foggy bakery case, you try to squint to see a better view of what was happening. What you find is the sight of Joel kicking the boy’s head back with the butt of his gun, repeatedly smashing it into his skull. The twisted sounds of bones breaking fill your senses, mixed in with garbled cries of pain and pleading words spoken from the boy.

You peek over the counter once again to fire out a shot in hopes that the sound makes the leader’s presence known, but you’re met with the soft click of the gun signaling you are out of bullets.

Dropping back down, you curse and force yourself to not panic but fail as you reach into your jacket pocket with shaky hands trying to find your spare ammo. In the process, you don’t hear the crunching sound of glass close to you until you feel a tight grip on your arm as you’re forced to a standing position. A sharp yelp leaves you from the movement and your eyes widen when they settle on the figure that grabbed you.

“Looks like you’re caught now, princess,” he sneers.

The leader of the group gives you a sick smirk and snarls as he yanks you out from behind the counter after taking your gun and throwing it off to the side. You desperately try to fight against him, wriggling your body to free yourself from his grasp and run away, but he just presses your back deeper into the front of his body. Locking his left arm in front of your chest with a bone-breaking grip, he drags you out onto the street a few feet away from Joel.

He’s still straddling the boy as he beats him far past death, seemingly distracted as he gives no indication he heard or noticed what happened. The realization that his right ear had been facing the coffee shop hits you, understanding why he wouldn’t hear above the sounds of his fist driving into the boy’s face.

The leader calls out to Joel with a wave of his knife before pressing it against your throat and applying enough pressure for you to feel the sharp edge dig into your skin, alerting you if you move too suddenly, it would slice you. In a desperate attempt to keep the knife away from you, you keep your left hand gripped on his arm across your chest and your right hand holding his wrist that holds the knife to your throat—hoping you could use the force to escape if his grip loosened in the slightest.

At the call, you see Joel straighten up. His head whips around as he looks wild and confused, before his eyes settle on yours and you watch his entire body freeze in an instant.

You don’t take your eyes off him as you try not to let panic consume you, trying to use Joel’s presence as a source of comfort, but you aren’t stupid. You are aware that there is little that can be done from Joel right now without triggering this man to hurt you in some way. What causes your composure to falter, is you can tell that Joel realizes it too.

Joel raises his hands slowly in front of him, his rifle still slung around his neck but the handle of it loosely held in his hand as he holds it out and away from his body.

“Let her go.”

The tone in Joel’s voice is one you haven’t heard before, one that makes you shudder. It’s a mix of pure blind rage, combined with complete fear, all while his eyes never stray from yours. Not once.

The man laughs disturbingly. “You think this is a fucking discussion? We just wanted to talk, and you killed my fucking men.”

You feel the grip from his arm wrapped around your chest tighten, simultaneously applying more pressure with the knife held in his other hand. You feel nauseous—bile rising in your throat for what seemed like the hundredth time today as you feel his body behind you press further into yours. 

Joel seems to notice the action as he looks down quickly to the lower half of your body before flicking his eyes up to the man, a sickening snarl on his face. You see his body twitching from anger despite the distance between the two of you, noticing the way his hand’s grip on his gun tightens.

The man brings his face against the side of yours, his nose pressed against your temple as you feel his breath fanning your neck. Side-eyeing Joel, he says, “Can’t say I blame you, though. I mean if I found something this pretty in a world so ugly, well… I wouldn’t want to let it go either.”

He looks between you and Joel, a smirk in his voice as he snickers. “It’s a good thing I’m willing to share.”

You try to slow your breathing back to a steady pace, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this situation. You know that it would be hard for Joel to make a sudden move without something happening to you in the process, and you can tell from his body language and from how well you know him that he realizes it too. But you can also see, feel, the anger in him and his growing impatience. 

Your eyes flick around the scene before you to figure something out. Out of the corner of your eye, you focus on the way the man holds the knife to your throat. His right arm is held up and out, and the knife is long enough to cover your whole throat. His grip on the handle makes it so his hand is not parallel to your body, but rather it is held just above your shoulder. Noticing the detail, you think of a plan.

God, you hope this will work.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Joel breaks eye contact with the man and settles his gaze back onto yours, his eyes softening in the slightest when they meet your own. You flick your eyes down to your grip on the man before very slowly taking your index finger you have on the man’s right wrist, and make two light taps on the back of his hand—the action so delicate that the man doesn’t notice. But Joel does.

The movement catches Joel’s eye instantly as he’s hyper aware of every single part of your body at the moment, making him look at the hand holding the knife. The furrow between his brows twitches in understanding, a movement only you would catch, before he locks eyes with you again. 

Silent words pass between you in mere seconds, and you know Joel understands what you need him to do. His jaw clenches briefly, a sign that tells you he isn’t happy with the plan, and he quickly looks back to the man’s hand before his eyes flick between both of yours, a sudden nervous look in them. 

The two of you understand the risk, but both know there isn’t another option.

Gritting his teeth, Joel moves with a swiftness as he tightens his grip on his rifle and positions the weapon to aim. The movement is so sudden that the man has no chance to process what is happening before Joel shoots once at the back of the man’s hand that holds the knife. 

You only feel a small sharp sting followed by relief as the bullet grazes the top of your shoulder instead of completely penetrating your skin as it goes through the man’s hand.

He yells in distress as he pulls his right hand off your throat and drops the knife in shock. The moment makes his grip on your chest loosen, allowing you to rip his left arm off you and elbow him in the stomach before throwing yourself forward. In the same moment, Joel reaches for you and catches you by your forearms to try and break your fall as you land on the ground from exhaustion.

Seemingly satisfied with your immediate safety, Joel begins walking over to the man that sits on the ground screaming in pain and repeatedly cursing, “You fucking bitch!”

His face shifts into one of fear when his eyes lift up to the sight of Joel marching towards him, whatever expression on Joel’s face makes him scramble to try and get up to run. Before he gets the chance, Joel reaches his cowering body and uses the toe of his boot to kick the man in the chin, sending him laying back down on the ground with another curse and blood rushing from his nose and mouth.

You stay on the ground, hands digging into the pavement behind you as you watch Joel tower over the man before climbing on top of him. Joel reaches forward to wrap his left hand around the collar of the man’s shirt and raises his right hand, balled into a fist, and brings it down onto the side of his face repeatedly.

Your senses are consumed by the violence before you. All you can focus your eyes on is the violence before you. All you hear is the disturbings sounds of the man wailing in pain, bones crunching, and Joel. His snarls and grunts fill your ears as he proceeds to slam his fist into the man’s face for what feels like forever.

Eventually, you stop hearing the sounds of pain coming from the man who had almost killed you. You realize he’s dead, but Joel doesn’t stop. 

Eyes unable to be taken off the right side of Joel’s body over his body, you watch as Joel begins to alternate between fists as he continues beating him—only using his dead body as a vessel to let out pure anger and adrenaline at this point. The sounds of impact become more wet as blood completely covers the dead man’s face, Joel pounding into him relentlessly with the occasional sounds of bones crunching still occurring. You didn’t even know there were so many bones in the face to break.

Time passes, you aren’t sure how long, before Joel’s movements slow down to a stop. You think he only stops because his body is exhausted as you hear his harsh breathing and watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His fists twitch as if holding himself back from continuing, and you look to see the knuckles on both of his hands are covered in deep bruises along with blood. So much blood, covering his hands, arms, and splatters of it on his face.

This is what Maria had meant that first day you were here. What Joel was capable of.

As if he entered his body again, Joel seems to freeze. Perhaps he was lost in the violence and forgot you were there. Maybe, with the right side of his body facing you, he didn’t hear your labored breathing. You watch him slowly stand up off the now dead body, hovering over it as he looks down with disinterest. He turns and begins to walk over to you silently, his head angled downwards as he extends a bloody hand to help you up. 

You take it, your fingers wrapping around his usually warm and calloused palm that now is wet and sticky with blood. Allowing him to pull you up, you try to duck your head to look at him, but he has his eyes trained on the ground since he stopped punching.

“Are you okay?”

The words come out broken through his hoarse voice, the question being the first thing he’s said in however long he was killing that man. His eyes don’t raise past your waist, still not making eye contact with you directly as his face is etched in a deep frown.

You just want him to look at you.

You nod your head for a second before speaking up, your own voice sounding so small—the effort of speaking being almost painful. “Yes.”

Joel doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer as he opens and closes his mouth for a second, his frown deepening even more before he harshly shuts his eyes for a moment.

“Did they–” The words sound as if they are being forced out of his throat, his voice catching and a choked sound coming out as he spoke. “Did he… did he touch you?”

“No,” you respond softly.

Joel nods slowly before looking around at the aftermath of the fight.

Why won’t he look at you?

After a few moments, Joel clears his throat and his voice breaks slightly as he says, “Sound could’ve attracted clickers. We better head back to Jackson. S’gonna get dark soon.” The words are factual, said with no real rush in them, as if he’s forcing himself to move on. He gestures towards the horses down the road behind you, walking past you for a few steps. You stand there, staring at the barely recognizable dead body ahead of you before you turn around and call out.

“Joel?”

Your voice cracks at the name and you watch as his movements halt, turning his body half towards you with his eyes still firmly fixed on the ground. All he gives you is a hum of acknowledgement before you take one hesitant step towards him, seeing him tense up and take an unconscious step back. The action makes a crack split in your chest.

“Joel,” you repeat, voice barely above a whisper. “Can you please look at me?”

Hearing the tremble in your voice, Joel slowly, yet carefully, lifts his eyes to yours. Seeing his brown eyes finally making contact with yours makes you take a shaky breath in. The same eyes that always look at you with so much warmth in them that it envelopes you in him. You feel so small at the moment, not knowing how to tell him what you want.

He studies you for a moment, his own breathing stuttering when he makes eye contact with you. His frown deepens at first until he sees something in your eyes that makes his hardened face soften into relief, as if he read your mind and could hear the thoughts you desperately wanted to convey.

You aren’t scared of him, as he feared. As he has feared, for almost two years. Fear that if you saw every side of him, you would recoil with disgust. Completely pulling yourself away from him and looking at him like a monster.

In that moment, he realizes you don’t fear him. You need him.

He lets out what must have been a breath he was holding in since the two of you heard the stranger’s voice for the first time, his entire body sagging before launching himself forward in your direction. The moment Joel moves toward you, you impatiently step forward too and throw yourself into his arms.

You wrap both of your arms as tight as possible around his waist, eyes screwed shut and burrowing your face into his chest. Smelling sweat, and blood, and him. His own arms wrap around your back, somehow holding you tighter than you were holding him, as if he wanted to feel every inch of your skin against his own. He brings his right hand to hold the back of your head, pushing you even further into him before resting his face against the top of your head and letting his eyes fall closed at the feeling of you safe in his arms.

The comfort somehow makes you want to crumble further, the freedom to be more vulnerable causing a sob to escape your throat. You try to stifle the sound but Joel already heard it, rubbing the back of your head with his thumb as he moves to dip his head into the crook of your neck and breathes you in deeply.

“I got you, darlin’. Always,” he whispers against your neck.

With those words, you let everything out.

The name he’s called you for months now somehow hits you harder than it ever has, making your knees buckle as the exhaustion and loss of adrenaline seems to catch up to you. You feel Joel adjust his grip to hold you tighter and keep you up, mumbling against your skin, “M’not gonna let you fall.”

His touch and his words provide you more sturdiness and protection than you have ever felt—more than you thought was humanly possible.

Your sobs and panicked breathing eventually even out into sniffles as you focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat that you faintly hear with your ears pressed against his chest. You stand there holding each other for what feels like too long, yet also not long enough. When you feel more calm, you begin to loosen your hold and pull away, but not before Joel’s grip on you tightens just a bit more before letting you pull yourself away first.

You lean only inches back from him, eyes trained on the base of his neck as you feel his breath on your mouth. He brings the hand that was on the back of your head over to gently cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb underneath your eye to wipe away tears and the tenderness of his touch has your eyes falling shut. You feel him lean his forehead against yours for a few seconds before he pulls back enough to place a gentle and lingering kiss to your forehead.

Taking a step back from you, he moves his grip to place one on your waist and another on your upper arm. His eyes move across your face, taking in every detail before he breathes out to say, “We gotta go home, darlin’.”

His words cause you to snap back into reality as he was right. The sun had begun setting and it would be a long trip back to Jackson—you two had to leave now. It didn’t stop the small part of you that wished you could stay in his arms for the rest of your life.

You turn your body to head down the street when you feel him slip his hand into yours, squeezing tightly, before leading you over to your horses.

Déjà vu is a funny feeling. It’s something that people tend to forget just how odd of a sensation it is.

The blinding white lights that make your head pound intensely. The sterile smell of the hospital room. The hushed voices between the medical staff as they poke and prod you. Your own dissociative state as you sit silently, eyes unfocused on the wall in front of you. It’s all eerily similar to what you remember as your first day in Jackson.

All you want to do is go home and go to sleep for as long as humanly possible.

Joel and you had made your way back to Jackson, arriving close to midnight, you think. Due to how far you two had gone, it got dark fast. You had spent the ride back feeling Joel’s eyes on you at any chance he could get, but you had just stared straight ahead, too exhausted from the events that just occurred. About an hour in you remember Joel had called out to you, offering for you to ride on his horse sitting behind him so you could rest and use his back as support. His offer was due to his notice that your eyes had started fluttering shut more and more often, worrying him further on your current state. You declined, knowing that him having to steer his own horse while holding onto the reins of yours as she rode beside would only make the journey go slower.

You just wanted to be home as fast as you could.

Once arriving back to town, you found Maria, Tommy, and a few other leaders in the town waiting at the gates restlessly. Your absences had made the others worry something was wrong, and they seemed prepared to head out in search of you two.

You vaguely remember shouting. Tommy’s face growing alarmingly concerned at the sight of the state you two were in. Maria’s own body sagging with relief at the fact you two were alive before matching her husband in his concern once her eyes scanned over your form. You had felt hands grabbing you, bringing Joel and you to the doctor quickly to get you both checked for injuries. 

Since riding into Jackson, Joel hadn’t seemed to have taken his eyes off you now that he didn’t have to focus on the road ahead. You faintly recall his sounds of protest when the doctor had separated you two into your own rooms—Joel only succumbing to their efforts when Maria laid a firm hand on his chest to hold them back. “We’re giving her a female doctor to check her over, and I’ll sit with her the whole time. I promise.” Her words brought Joel a tiny bit of peace before becoming nauseous at the need for their decisions regarding you.

A hand touching your shoulder brings you back to reality for a moment, causing you to flinch at the sudden touch. Looking up, you realize the doctor was speaking to you with Maria behind her and looking over her shoulder to watch your reactions.

“What?”

The memory of your first day arriving here comes back to you once again when you speak, remembering the overwhelming feeling you had so long ago. The feeling of being underwater while drowned-out voices echo around you and try to grab your attention.

The doctor sighs before looking at Maria, not impatiently, but knowingly. “I’ve checked her thoroughly. Besides the small wound on the top of her shoulder from the bullet, she doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Some bruising, sure, but I mainly think she’s just overwhelmed.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she leans closer to Maria, intending for you to not hear what she says. But you do. “The mental signs of infection are most likely due to the trauma.”

She talks about you like you aren’t there. Like you aren’t human. 

The question that races through your mind, the only question you care for the answer to, comes out of you. “Where’s Joel?”

Maria turns her attention to you when she hears your voice croak out the words. She gives a sad smile before replying, “Don’t worry honey, he’s just outside talking with Tommy right now. He’s alright, too…we figured you’d want your space–”

“I want Joel,” you say, leaving no room for argument in your tone.

Her eyes soften in understanding and she gives a small nod before the doctor opens the room to head out, Maria following her out. She leaves the door open a bit, allowing you to hear the hushed, broken sentences from Tommy and Joel—the door angled so you could see Joel leaning close to Tommy to whisper, their words fading in and out.

“...Where do you think they…”, you hear from Tommy first.

“Don’t know. Can't be too close. We were so far out and…”

“... Could be on their way if they see… Just like David was…”

David? Who was David?

“No, no… made sure they couldn’t follow…”

You wish they would speak up louder so you could hear more of what they were saying.

Then, in a weaker voice, you hear Joel say, “It happened again, Tommy… I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t–”

Their conversation is interrupted as Maria walks up. You see Joel’s body language straighten out and tense up as he looks to her with stoicism. It isn’t until you hear your name being said in the mix of words that you see Joel’s head snap in your direction before he takes quick strides to get to your door.

The moment it opens, his eyes are alert—worried. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, just… wanted to see you. Make sure you’re okay too.”

His features soften, his round eyes so heartbreakingly beautiful that you forget about what happened for a single moment and only focus on him.

“Yeah, I’m alright, darlin’. Doc said you’re cleared. They patched up your shoulder and everythin’.”

You nod, not caring much for the state of your injuries as you can only focus on one goal. “Can we go home now?”

Joel nods without hesitation. “‘Course we can,” he says, walking towards your chair. His hand seems to hover over your back, wanting to guide you but knowing you had been jumpy to anyone touching you the whole time you were here. You take the initiative to lean your body into his when you stand up, giving him a silent cue that his touch was welcome—craved, even. You hear a small sigh of relief leave his mouth as he wraps his arm around your back, holding you close to him as he guides you both outside the building. 

You catch Tommy and Maria speaking in hushed tones outside the front door of the hospital before stopping when they see you two. They both look down to Joel’s arm around you—Maria with a firm look on her face, lips tight and brows twitching together, while Tommy offers a more softer and sympathetic look. “You guys let me know if you need anythin’, alright?”

Joel gives a nod of acknowledgement to his brother before Tommy comes over to pat his shoulder, leaning in as you hear Tommy whisper to him. “Take care of your girl, alright, big brother?”

The words don’t impact you as much as they might have before today, letting you know that you aren’t completely there, but they seem to affect Joel as you hear him take a sharp inhale of breath before giving a single nod in response.

It’s a short and silent walk to your house until you turn onto your walkway. Joel leads you over to your door as you reach into the inside of your jacket to take out your house key in the pocket there. Your hands uncontrollably shake as you try to get them, but your struggle is stopped not long after by the feeling of Joel’s hand gently laying on top of yours.

You look up to meet his eyes, seeing his eyebrows pushed together and up a bit as he gives you the same tender look he’s given you, and only you, all night whenever he looks at you. “Let me,” he softly commands, taking over to reach into your pocket. As he grabs the key and opens your front door, he still supports your body with his other arm as you lean into his side.

He gently helps you into your home before closing and locking the door behind him while you just stand there, numb, and looking around the entryway. When he finally turns around to look at you, he’s met with the sight of your back, unmoving, and his worry only grows. 

Slowly walking around to stand in front of you, he lifts his hand to carefully brush away stray pieces of hair that have fallen in front of your face, as if he’s done the action a million times. You look at his chest, yet stare at nothing in front of you as your eyes continue to stay unfocused. Noticing this, Joel begins to frown as he feels a lump in his throat—a pain stabbing him in his chest.

He brings his hand that brushes your hair away to cup your chin, delicately guiding your head upwards to try and get you to focus on him. It seems to do the trick as your eyes meet his, blinking repeatedly to adjust your eyes to your surroundings.

The sight of you more focused eases Joel’s worry a bit. You lift your eyes to his and watch as he smiles sadly. “There she is. Missed ya.”

You become aware of how you’ve been acting. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to–”

Joel cuts you off with a shake of his head before speaking to you with sincerity in his voice. “Absolutely nothin’ you need to apologize for, darlin’. Just want you alright is all.”

You numbly nod your head, watching as Joel straightens up to look over to your staircase leading upstairs. “How about you go up there, take a shower, and get ready for bed. I’ll give you some space if you want and head home to do the same before I–”

The thought of being alone makes you frantically shake your head, eyes wide as you begin rambling. “No, please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone, please just–”

Surprised worry appears on Joel’s face as he places his hands on your arms to steady you and bring your attention back on to him, ducking his head down to level his eyes with yours once again. “Hey, hey,” he hushes soothingly. “I’m gonna come right back, make you some food to eat ‘til you fall asleep, okay?”

It’s not enough. You shake your head again. “Please don’t go yet… you can use my shower before I do and then we can eat. I have plenty of spare towels if you’re okay with that?”

Joel pauses for half a second before giving you a smile in response. “‘Course I can, darlin’. Let me go home to grab some clothes, then I can get washed up here and we can eat before you sleep. That sound alright with you?”

His suggestion is the most logical, so you nod in agreement. It doesn’t stop you from standing at your window and watching him as he walks across the street to his house, only to stare at his door waiting until he comes back out. The lights go on and off as he seems to move about the house before he comes back out shortly. Seeing him again has you letting out a breath of relief, taking no hesitation to swing open your door before he is even fully on your side of the street. 

The sound of you opening the door has his steps faltering for a brief moment, his movements pause until continuing to make his way inside—a small bag over his shoulder that you assume is filled with a change of clothes.

You hover close to him as you watch him cross the threshold and remove his shoes at the front of your door. He gestures upstairs with a nod of his head. “You take the first shower, okay?”

You try and argue, suddenly feeling bad about making him stay here with you, but he just shakes his head at you. “Nope, I’ll be alright ‘til you’re ready. I can start preparin’ some hot food for you so it’s nice and fresh for when you’re done. Take your time, okay?”

Nodding to him, you slowly make your way upstairs, turning at the top to see him watching you until you reach your bedroom. You then hear the sounds of him walking into your kitchen—the clanging sounds of pots assuring you he was still here.

Your body moves like a zombie. Your motions are on autopilot as you walk into your bathroom, turning on the shower to let it warm up before beginning to undress. Once completely stripped, you look at the pile of clothes that now lays on the bathroom tile—what looks like every inch of it covered in blood and fully ruined. You stand there for a few seconds too long, simply looking down and glaring at it as if its presence disgusts you, before deciding you would throw it out in the morning. Or maybe even burn it.

As you turn to step into the shower, you make an effort to avoid your mirror at any cost, forcing your legs to lift and settle into your position under the stream. The hot water burns your skin, a feeling you relish in that moment as you wish it would rip your skin off and allow your body to start over. You grab your various soaps and begin washing your hair, your body, your face—ending up scrubbing relentlessly in every spot you can possibly think of until the skin burns raw, the dried blood that was left on you far gone.

You aren’t sure how long passes after you finish removing the filth of the day from your body, but you stay standing under the water and let it cascade over your body—your arms folded across your midsection as you tilt your head down to stare at the drain as it turns from red to clear.

A knock on your bathroom door pulls your attention, followed by a call of your name. “You okay in there?”

It takes you a second to find the strength to speak before you’re able to call out a response. “Yes,” you reply, the broken sound of your own voice shocking you.

There’s a short pause before you hear Joel respond. “Alright… just wanted to let you know that the food’s ready, so you can come down whenever you’re done.”

Surprise hits you for a moment. “How long have I been in here?”

With a layer of worry in his tone, Joel calls out, “Uh, just lil’ over an hour… Why? Is somethin’ wrong?”

You shake your head before you realize that he can’t see you. “No… I’ll be out in a moment.”

You hear him say to take your time, but you already turned off the water and step out, beginning to dry off and put your pajamas on.

Once finished, you open your bathroom door expecting to see Joel standing in your bedroom. In his absence, panic begins to build inside you and has you calling out his name hurriedly before you see him poke his head into your bedroom door out of the corner of your eye. You turn to face him fully and sigh with relief, realizing that he was just standing outside in your hallway. 

“Sorry,” he sheepishly responds. “Just wanted to give you some privacy.”

You shake away his apology, feeling ridiculous for your reaction in the first place, and move to grab the clean spare towels you have in your cupboard and hand them to him. “Here.”

He gives you a polite smile before taking the pile of folded cloth into his hands, adjusting his grip to pick up the bag he brought here that was leaning against the wall outside your room.

“You go head downstairs and start eatin’. I’ll join you when I’m done. Should be only ten minutes, I promise.”

You nod and let him walk past you into your bathroom, closing that door behind him. 

For a moment, you stand in your bedroom doorway and look in the direction of your staircase. Hovering for a moment while fidgeting, you feel unsure of what to do with yourself until you decide to sit on your bed and wait there for him. The sounds of him turning the water on and moving around brought you a bit of peace, and you end up staring at the clock to watch the hands tick by while you wait for him.

He was right about the time as you hear the water turn off only twelve minutes… and thirty-seven seconds later—your eyes never straying from the moving lines on your clock until you hear shuffling, assuming he’s getting dressed before the bathroom door opens. 

Joel comes out with his head bowed down as he runs a towel quickly through his hair, wearing black sweatpants and a soft looking navy blue T-shirt. He takes two steps out of the bathroom before his head raises back up to see you sitting on the bed waiting for him with your legs folded beneath you.

He jumps slightly, not expecting you to be there, and looks out your bedroom before turning back to you with a confused expression. “Thought I told you dinner was ready?” He calmly says, no judgment or accusation in his tone.

You look down at your hands you’d been fidgeting with in your lap, picking at your fingernails. “I… I wanted to wait up here for you.”

He blinks once. The confusion stays with him for a second as he processes your response,  until his face shifts into warm understanding. “Okay. Let’s go down to eat.”

The moment he steps away from the bathroom door, the bright bathroom light he had shielded you from with his body no longer lays on you. When you stand, Joel takes a step towards you to help you up but freezes once he sees you under the light, his face hardening.

Confusion and worry consume you for a moment, but clarity strikes you when you see his gaze trained below your face. Due to the dim lighting of your house, and the fact your clothing up until now was covering most of your body, Joel had not yet seen the extent of your injuries that you avoided staring at in the bathroom.

His eyes stay glued to the brushing on your arms for a few seconds before they lift up to the bandage on your shoulder. His focus travels to your throat where you assume a long thing cut laid there from the knife that was pressed against you.

Still looking at your throat, you watch Joel’s top lip twitch before he swallows his emotions harshly. “C’mon,” he mutters softly, placing his hand on your shoulder and guiding you gently downstairs.

Reaching the kitchen, you see a pot of stew sitting on the now-off stove with two bowls next to the stovetop and a large ladle placed against the side of the pot. Joel pulls out a chair for you at your kitchen table, letting you sit before he goes over to fill up the two bowls with the food, coming back over to place them down in front of your respective spots before going to grab some water from the fridge.

You both settle into your seats and begin to eat silently, the only words spoken being a quiet thank you from you for him making you something to eat. He brushes off your appreciation lightheartedly, as if his sentiment was as natural as breathing and nothing worth being thanked for. The sounds of silverware clanking against the ceramic bowls mixed with the domestic nature of the two of you eating together in silence is enough for you a sense of safety and comfortability to wash over you, no words needing to be shared to fill the quiet.

When you finish your bowl, Joel moves to take it to the sink as he was done with his own a few minutes before, and starts to wash and put away everything. You watch his back silently as he moves, thinking you hear a very faint sound of humming coming from him, but it’s too quiet for you to be sure.

As he dries the last bowl left, you quickly rush out a question you've had on your mind since coming home.

Joel turns to face you, looking confused and making you realize you had spoken too quietly. You wait a few moments as he turns the water over, drying his hands on your dish towel and turning his body to face you directly as he leans back against the sink counter.

You clear your throat and look at the ground as you repeat your question. “Can you sleep here tonight?”

His lack of response for a few seconds fills you with shame, feeling stupid for even asking. Trying to rectify the embarrassment, you begin to ramble out more words with your head angled towards the floor. “I just… I don’t really want to be alone tonight. I know the couch is not the most comfortable thing to sleep on, so if you don’t want to I completely understand, I just–”

“Yes.”

The sound of his voice responding to you makes you shoot your head up to look at him, eyes wide as you hadn’t expected him to agree. Making eye contact with you, you see a sure look in his eyes mixed with… relief?

Did he want to sleep here tonight, too?

Mouth parted in a small “o” shape, you slowly nod. “Okay… um, I have some spare pillows and blankets in my bedroom closet. Let me go get them for you and I’ll set you up on the couch.”

Joel wordlessly nods, walking into the living room as you quickly make your eyes upstairs to grab the items. In your room, your eyes glance at the clock hung on your wall to see it was 2 am. Your body seems to snap back into its previously exhausted state as you realize how long the day has been—Joel’s presence since you arrived home seems to have distracted you from the reality of the toll your mind and body took on today.

You make your way downstairs to find Joel watching you carefully as you walk up to him and hand him the pillows and blankets. He takes them with a hum of appreciation before he begins to set up his space for the night.

The sight of him fluffing the pillow onto one end of the couch and stretching the fabric of your quilt across the narrow cushions has you wince. The guilt of making him, as big and broad as he is, spend the night on your cramped couch grows in you.

As he finishes his movements with a final flick of his wrist to throw one end of the quilt at the end of the couch, you open your mouth to tell him he can go home. Somehow, despite his back being towards yours, he turns to look at you before you can even speak, only to immediately say, “I want to be here.”

Your mouth flutters open and closed after he speaks with such confidence, momentarily stunned at the timing of your thoughts. Or perhaps he knew what you were going to say without even seeing that you had wanted to speak. 

You give him an attempt at a smile, your lips barely curling up in one corner, something that takes a bit of effort as you think you haven’t done it since before your run in earlier. You seem to be proven right when you see Joel’s shoulders sag with relief at the sight, grateful to have some emotion be shown out of you.

You look around the room, unsure how to say goodnight, while also not wanting to be away from him. He seems to notice your hesitancy, because he nods his head in the direction of your staircase. “Let me get you to bed, darlin’.”

Assuring him you can do so on your own, you shake your head and begin to protest. He carefully reaches his hand out to hold one of your hands as his eyes focus on you and speaks with the same confidence from before. “I want to.”

With that, you allow him to walk up with you to your bedroom—Joel opening the door for you and guiding you inside. You make your way over to your bed and watch with slight awe as Joel reaches over to pull the covers back, allowing you to slip in. The action makes your cheeks flush, and you become grateful for the darkness in the room as you crawl into bed and settle beneath the covers. You look at the lamp that sits on your dresser in the corner of the room before eyeing Joel nervously. His gaze follows yours to look at the lack of light with furrowed brows. 

“Could you… um…” you trail off, gesturing towards the lamp with your chin. He understands your request and walks over to turn it on so that a dim warm light fills your room. 

Embarrassment fills you for a moment, feeling like a fucking child who just woke up from a nightmare and needs their light on to sleep through the night. Maybe that’s what today was, you think. One big nightmare, and you’ll wake up tomorrow feeling normal again.

Logically, you knew you would recover. Having had these encounters in the past before, you always compartmentalized the experiences and moved on—forcing yourself to bury the complexities of your emotions in order for you to be able to keep going both physically and mentally. Today, though, you found yourself feeling safe in terms of your reactions. Joel’s patient and gentle nature with you makes you feel free enough to not need to keep it all in. For once, you could let yourself rely on someone else to be there for you.

As Joel makes his way back around to you, he sits on the edge of your bed beside you to begin adjusting the blankets until they cover you more properly. Satisfied with his effort, he rests one of his hands on top of yours that lay on your stomach overlapping each other. His eyes lift to yours with such warm intensity that it makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t recall a moment where anyone has ever looked at you with so much emotion and care in their eyes.

The two of you simply gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before Joel breaks the contact by leaning forward slowly, slow enough for you to stop him if you wanted, but you don’t want to. His lips press a lingering kiss to your forehead, a deep inhale leaves his nose before he pulls back.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he says as he stands and begins to walk backwards out of your room, eyes never leaving your face. 

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You watch him leave your room and notice how he keeps your door partly open so that you can see him walk down the staircase, deliberately leaving your dim staircase light on to give you more comfort.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: sorry for the emotional rollercoaster, and posting it after episode 6. feeling masochistic. 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @silksepia @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter Seven: Come Clean

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel deal with the fallout from the fight and the big secret finally gets revealed.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, physical violence, lots of anxiety, descriptions of injuries, reader has a little bit of a depresh but she'll be alright, have I mentioned reader has a strained relationship with her parents?

WC: 5.3K

Series Masterlist

It was finally quiet.

Darkness spilled into the room from outside. It was darker than usual — storm clouds rolled in off the ocean and threatened to dump buckets of rain any minute. The clock next to the bed flashed close to three in the morning. In front of it sat an orange opaque bottle of pain pills. Joel had taken one and fallen asleep thirty minutes later, but you were still wide awake, replaying the events from that evening, wide eyes pinned to the ceiling fan above your heads.

"Did you fuck my wife, Joel?"

Scott yelled it so it echoed throughout the lobby. Workers and the random guest still floating around late at night whipped around to stare.

Joel looked stunned. He blinked, mouth agape, as he struggled to answer. His eyes flashed briefly to Tammy, who had her arms wrapped around her middle, hovering over Scott's right shoulder. Her lower lip trembled and when Joel managed to catch her eye, she quickly let her gaze guiltily fall to her feet.

With his arm still stretched out behind him, fingers grazing your arm so he could make sure you were out of harm's way, Joel cleared his throat.

"Listen, let's calm down and—"

"You fucking prick!"

Spit sprayed from Scott's lips from the force behind his words. The fire in his eyes and the tight fist at his side warned you to back up further, right against your father. His arms shot up, fingers wrapping around your shoulders, and he walked you and your mother a few more feet away.

But when Scott's gaze snapped to lock with yours, your blood ran cold.

"Did you know?" he sneered. He took a step forward and Joel quickly stretched out an arm to stop him. Scott slapped his hand away and craned his neck, looking around Joel to address you.

"Did you know you're marrying a liar and a fucking cheat?" he asked louder. Your throat tightened. You couldn't form words. You felt frozen in place, wedged between your parents, staring at a man whose marriage was over and looking for someone else to blame.

Then, he dug a hand into his pocket and flicked a white card across the floor. It landed at your feet, facedown, but you knew. You knew what it must have said because the card-stock looked exactly the same as the other two notes you found up in your suite.

After that, it was a blur. You were pretty sure Scott shouted more things in your direction, and then at Joel again. Joel must have had enough because he gave Scott a mild shove to the shoulder, but it was all he had been waiting for.

Fists began to fly, expensive shoes squeaked loudly across the shiny marble floor. The two men wrestled to the ground, each landing punch after sickening punch, marring one another's skin until their shirts tore and blood smeared from their noses and mouths. Then, finally, Tommy rushed across the foyer to break the two men up, along with two bulky looking men from security.

It had only been a minute, but both looked utterly wrecked.

You watched with your hands pressed tightly over your mouth as Tommy hauled Joel to his feet. He angrily swiped at the blood trickling from his lip. His eyes looked dark and crazed in a way you only ever saw once before, back when Brooks assaulted you during your first stay on the island.

It scared you to see that anger lining his face again. The tight, torn fists at his sides and his clenched jaw had fear spiking through your veins. When he blinked, remembering where he was and who he was with, he swiveled around to look at you. You jumped. Instantly, his gaze softened and he forgot all about Scott and Tammy, who were being dragged out of the lobby behind him. Scott's angry, vicious words faded away behind a closed door marked security, leaving the four of you and a handful of guests, who were trying to act normally.

"Honey, I'm— I'm sorry," he rasped. He lifted one bloody hand up, stretched out towards you. Your eyes widened when two dark red drops of blood splattered on the pristine floor. You swallowed and remained planted firmly between your parents.

"Give her a second, Joel," your dad said, squeezing your shoulders. Tommy wrapped a hand around his brother's bicep and gave him a gentle tug, but Joel kept his eyes locked with yours.

"Please," he begged. His brows furrowed and his face filled with panic when you failed to snap out of it. "Please... it's just me. Still ju-just me, baby. I—I promise—"

"She needs time," your mother piped up next to you. She held her chin high, protectively, and it felt like you were back in school again. "She just learned a lot, and it's probably best that she has some time alone to sort through everything."

You shook your head then, your brain finally catching up. Your hands fell from your mouth and you gently slid from your father's grasp.

"No," you whispered, "no. I'm— I'm fine. It's okay, I'm—"

"I think it's best if you think things over. You'll stay with us tonight," your dad said sternly, but you shook your head again.

"No. I'm good. I'm staying with Joel." You took a few steps forward. Relief caused Joel's shoulders to sag and tears to well up in his eyes.

Your mother laughed dryly behind you as you tucked yourself under Joel's arm. He gazed down at you through red rimmed eyes and you managed a small smile.

"You just found out he had an affair with his friend's wife!" your mother exclaimed, exasperated. You twisted your head to look at her. "You don't think that deserves some time to... to—"

"No," you said firmly, cutting her off. "I was just startled. I'm okay, I promise."

The disbelief painted across their faces was obvious, and if it weren't for the public setting, you knew they'd have a lot more to say. Fortunately, they gave up. Your mother threw her hands in the air and looked at your dad, who pinned Joel with a deathly glare that you both ignored.

"C'mon," Tommy urged, pulling Joel's other arm. "Let's get you upstairs. The manager called a doctor, they'll meet you in the room."

"Suppose havin' me bleedin' in the middle of the damn hotel ain't good for business," Joel chuckled, following Tommy onto the elevator. His arm never left your shoulders the entire time. And although he was trying to laugh off what just happened, you knew it was just a mask. You knew having something so shameful being revealed so publicly must have felt like a knife to the gut.

The elevator ride was silent. Tommy helped you get Joel inside your suite, dumping his brother's tired body onto the couch while you disappeared back into the kitchen for some ice.

"Here."

You had just zipped a plastic bag closed and wrapped the cold compress with a towel when you heard Tommy's voice. You turned and when your eyes fell on the white envelope he slid across the counter, you stilled.

"Doc will be up any minute," he added. You nodded, eyes still stuck on the envelope and unable to speak. His knuckles rapped awkwardly across the granite before he sighed and headed towards the door.

"You need anythin', just give me a ring, doll."

You cleared your throat and managed to express your thanks before the door quietly opened and shut, leaving just you alone in the kitchen with the envelope.

With shaky fingers, you reached for it, morbid curiosity winning out against your anxious, racing heart. You flipped it over and held your breath, eyes tracing over every letter:

Joel Miller isn't the man you think he is. He treats women like possessions, including your own wife.

"Safe to say it ain't Scott and Tammy."

"All due respect, sir, I don't rule anyone out until I know for sure."

"That's a lot of bullshit to go through if it is them. 'Specially with no motive."

"I've seen people do much more for a lot less, trust me. What might not be a motive to you could be one for someone else."

Mark and Joel's voices filled the living space right outside your bedroom, where you remained tucked under the covers. You had hardly gotten any sleep, and what little energy you had, you didn't feel like spending talking about the night before, although you knew it was unavoidable.

When you checked your phone, you had a handful of texts and a few missed calls from your parents. Fortunately, their off-island excursion with spotty cell service would occupy them most of the day, but you knew you would have to see them that night since their flight home was early the next morning. You had no idea what you were going to say to try to explain what happened the night before. The longer you laid in bed thinking about it, the more you realized there wasn't going to be anything you could possibly say that would change how they viewed Joel at that point. For the rest of your life, you would have to deal with uncomfortable holidays and birthdays filled with fake smiles and polite conversation while ignoring the elephant in the room.

You wanted to feel angry — angry at Tammy, or Scott, or even Joel — but you couldn't. All you felt was a deep sadness that settled heavy in your chest.

With a sigh, you glanced at the clock next to your bed. After deciding you had moped around long enough, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the mattress. On the other side of the door, you could hear Mark and Joel bringing up Brooks's name. Already, a dull pain began to pulse between your eyes, but you still forced yourself to your feet.

You went to the bathroom, splashed some water on your face and brushed your teeth, then wandered into the closet. You stared blankly at the expensive clothes in front of you: the dresses, shirts, shoes, purses, and jewelry. If your mother knew the combined worth of everything in that closet was more than her house, it would take a crane to lift her jaw off the floor.

Just as you were starting to admit to yourself you could understand why they both had such a hard time wrapping their heads around your new life, Joel's voice softly saying your name from the opposite end of the closet pulled you out of it.

"Y'alright?"

A lump lodged tight in your throat when you turned to take in his bruised and battered face. The marks had grown darker and the swelling only appeared more enhanced from just one night.

"Yeah," you nodded, clearing your throat when your voice snagged on the word. You turned back to your clothes. "Just... deciding what to wear."

Joel watched you silently for a minute, hoping you would elaborate or maybe say anything else to help him understand what was going through your head, but when you slowly began to sift through your clothes without sparing him another glance, he nodded to himself and took a step back.

"Mark just left. I'll be waitin' for you."

"You aren't working?" you asked without looking his way.

"Not today."

You hummed and he disappeared back into the villa. Eventually, you picked an old shirt you had owned long before you met Joel and a pair of shorts, then got dressed.

Joel was at the dining room table, a folder opened in front of him with a few papers and pictures spread out. He looked up when he heard you walk in and shuffled the papers back together before closing the folder.

"What's that?" you asked.

"Mark's been busy," he said, "you remember the criminal Brooks was meetin' on that boat?"

You nodded but you already regretted asking. The stress from the mysterious notes combined with the fight from the night before was just too much and you could feel it taking its toll.

"Turned out it's a drug dealer," he explained, not catching the way your shoulders sagged, like the weight of the stress was physically pulling you towards the floor. Joel continued to explain how Mark believed Brooks relapsed, which would explain his erratic behavior, and therefore dropped Brooks from being the primary culprit.

"So we're no closer to figuring any of this out?" you asked, voice flat and unimpressed. Joel sighed.

"Not exactly," he said, "Mark's plannin' to set a trap. We know they're watchin' our room, right? So he's gonna set up cameras—"

"I thought we already had security cameras?"

"We do. Just not the right angles. So Mark's settin' some up now and he'll be monitoring them 'round the clock. They're bound to make demands soon 'n they're probably feelin' pretty cocky for workin' up Scott."

"But... Mark still thinks it could be Scott and Tammy?"

Your head was starting to hurt even more and your patience was wearing thin.

"He ain't rulin' 'em out."

"But we're ruling Brooks out?"

"No. Just 'cause the guy on the boat wasn't who we thought don't mean he ain't still a suspect," Joel added, "in fact, I told Mark the drug use makes him even more—"

"Can we maybe change the subject?" you asked, cutting him off. Joel instantly stopped talking, then something in his face changed when he noticed how distressed you looked.

"Yeah. 'Course," he said, standing to join you in the kitchen. Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you gently into his chest. He planted a kiss on top of your head and you closed your eyes, leaning back into him with a deep sigh. He smelled faintly like his cologne mixed with the sun and your muscles relaxed at the comforting scent.

"Don't worry, baby. We'll find out who it is. You don't gotta think 'bout this at all, I got it covered."

"Okay," you replied, hoping he didn't hear the strain in your voice when you spoke. But then he circled his other arm around you and hooked his chin over your shoulder, clearly trying to comfort you but it only made the tears well up faster and your resolve crumble.

"I just want this to be over," you whimpered, lower lip trembling. "I fucking hate this, Joel. I hate it. I want to go home."

He instantly spun you around so you could bury your face into his chest. He shushed you and rubbed your back as you sobbed quietly against him, soaking his linen shirt with a week's worth of tears.

"I know. I'm sorry," he murmured. "We'll be home in a few days. Mark will find out who it is and we'll put this all behind us."

"He's no closer to figuring it out than when he started," you protested, then finally pushed yourself away from his warm embrace to look up at him. Your face twisted into a pained expression when you saw his swollen eye and the bruise on his jaw up close. Carefully, you raised a hand to lightly stroke his cheek, then his nose, then his lips.

"Why do you always have to get into a fight when we're here?"

Joel smirked and you cracked your first small smile of the day.

"Promise I won't get into a fight when we come back for the wedding," he said softly.

"You better not," you sniffled, but the mere mention of the wedding had your face falling once again. With everything else going on, you had managed to put it out of your mind for the past few days. Now you could only imagine what people would be murmuring behind your back while they watched you exchange vows or cut the cake or share your first dance. You had no doubt rumors would begin to swirl about Joel's past affair with Tammy, but now with Mark no closer to finding out who was behind the letters, for all you knew, they'd be whispering about you being hired as a sugar baby, too.

You took a deep breath and took Joel's hands, bracing the both of you for the insane suggestion that was about to leave your mouth.

"What if we asked my dad for help?"

Joel stiffened like he had been slapped.

"...What?"

"He used to be a detective, Joel," you explained, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "He might be able to figure this out. Then—"

"Are you crazy? If he found out how we met, they-they'd... they'd fuckin' lose it."

"Would you rather everyone in the world find out, or just them?" you countered. "And let's face it — they don't have the highest opinion of you or me right now. How much worse could it possibly get?"

Joel pressed his lips together as he thought. He clearly didn't like the idea. Hell, you didn't like the idea, either. But the way things were going, it seemed like your parents would find out eventually, anyway.

"Maybe they'll cut us some slack if we tell 'em, first," he mused. "They ain't gonna like it. They're gonna be real upset, but... maybe if they hear it from us, they'll understand. Eventually."

"Eventually," you echoed. It made your stomach twist at the thought, but you were desperate and apparently, so was Joel. Or he just really didn't want to disappoint you again by saying no.

"We'll tell 'em tonight before they leave," Joel said, pinching your chin. "Whatever happens, we still got each other. This is all that matters, alright?"

You nodded, heart skipping nervously in your chest already.

It was a last resort that you fucking prayed would pay off.

After spending the afternoon going back and forth on how to deal with your parents, you made the difficult choice to go and speak to them alone. Joel didn't like it, but he understood you wanted to go to them without his presence holding anyone back from what needed to be said. You needed to clear the air, and your best chance at doing that would be alone.

Also, you didn't want to run the risk of your father taking a swing at Joel. Breaking up yet another fight was not on your to do list.

Which is how you found yourself in the back of a town car by yourself, heading in the direction of your parents' hotel. You were so nervous you could barely eat dinner. Joel could tell, too. He tried to distract you but you just kept pushing food around on your plate until he reached across the dining room table to take your hand.

"You wanna practice what you're gonna say?"

His thumb lovingly brushed over your knuckles and you gave him a tight smile.

"Yeah. Sure."

So, you did. Joel helped you when you needed advice on what to say and how to say it, reminded you not to get too upset and overwhelmed, and assured you he would come running at any time if you wanted him to. He even offered to sit in the car and wait, but you said no, that it would just make you more nervous, and you promised to call him if you got in over your head.

Your leg was bouncing anxiously as your driver pulled up to the front of The Sapphire. You absolutely hated how you felt like a teenager again, like you were about to tell your parents you just got detention or got into a fender bender. Mentally, you kept reminding yourself of the same thing, over and over: you're an adult, you do not need their approval, this is your life and you are happy.

"I should be done around ten—" you began to say, but your driver held up a hand and shook his head.

"Mr. Miller paid for the whole night. He insisted I stay right here, so whenever you're ready, just shoot me a text and I'll pull around to the front."

You gave him a relieved smile and thanked him before stepping out of the car.

The entire ride up in the elevator was spent softly rehearsing under your breath what you planned to say. You shifted foot to foot, eyes glued to the floor numbers above the doors.

You're an adult.

You do not need their approval.

The elevator slid to a gentle stop and the doors opened to an empty hallway. You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move, each step kickstarting your already racing heart more and more until you approached their room.

This is your life.

You are happy.

You raised a hand, hesitating only for a second before rapping your knuckles three times against the door.

You exhaled shakily while you waited and smiled at another hotel guest who was walking past you with a small dog in tow. Then the door swung open and your father greeted you with a wide smile.

No going back now, you thought.

"Hey, Kiddo," he said, pulling you in for a hug. You circled your arms around his middle, giving him a little squeeze as he patted your back, holding onto you just a little longer than necessary before letting go. "C'mon in. Your mother's packing up the bathroom stuff. We're glad you could stop by before we head out in the morning."

You smiled and stepped inside their entryway. Your father glanced back out into the hall before turning to you. "No Joel?"

"Uh, no," you said, sliding off your shoes. "Just me."

He shut the door then wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leading you further into their suite.

"Reckon he's still nursing a couple of shiners, huh?"

You nodded and cleared your throat. "Yeah but it's not so bad. He's — he's fine."

Your dad hummed and let his hand fall to his side before calling for your mother. Deeper into the room, you heard her shout she would be just a minute while you wandered over to their sitting room. The fire was going, casting the two white couches perpendicular to the fireplace in a warm glow.

"Can I getcha something to drink, sweetheart?"

Your dad was at the bar already clinking ice into a highballer glass.

"No, thanks."

You waited while he poured himself a bourbon, tucking your legs underneath you while silently practicing your speech.

"Gotta say, it's nice to have you to ourselves," he said, stepping down into the room to sit on the couch across from you. "We have some concerns about Joel—"

"I know," you told him, "I know you do. That's why I came alone. We need to talk."

Your father appeared shocked at first, then pleased, but you didn't clock his reaction right away. You were far too distracted with your own thoughts to notice he was beginning to misunderstand the reason for your visit.

"That — that's great," your dad stammered, eyes lighting up happily at you. "Your mother and I would love to talk."

"Talk?"

Your mom entered the room holding an armful of clothes that she plopped onto the couch next to you. "Hey, honey," she murmured, kissing you on the top of your head before eyeing you carefully. "Are you alright? After last night?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said hurriedly.

"And Joel?" she asked, her voice straining on his name. She walked around the glass coffee table to join your father on the other couch. "Those are the clothes you wanted to wear on the plane," she told him, pointing to the pile next to you.

"Joel's okay," you answered. Your father squeezed your mom's knee and gave it a little shake.

"That's why she's here," your dad said quietly, subtly nodding in your direction and giving your mom a look. "She wants to talk about Joel."

You frowned when your mother's face slowly lit up, and then you began to put it together.

"Did you have some time to think about things?" your mom asked hopefully. "Whatever you decide, just know your father and I are here for you. We even have your room just the way you left it—"

"My room?" you repeated, then your face screwed up in agitation when you realized what they were thinking. "I'm not leaving Joel, Mom. I'm not asking to move back home — what are you... nevermind," you sighed, falling back into the sofa. You couldn't let them get you off track. You needed to stay focused.

"I'm here because we need your help," you finally said, looking pointedly at your dad. His eyebrows raised a bit but otherwise his expression stayed neutral. You took a deep breath before continuing.

"We're being blackmailed," you said carefully, "and before things get worse, I wanted to ask for your help, Dad. We both wanted to ask for your help."

Your parents exchanged a look you couldn't identify before your father turned to address you.

"Blackmailed?" he repeated, and you gave him a nod. "Why?"

You swallowed and nervously began to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"Well, that's the other thing I wanted to talk about," you said, heart pounding so loud now you were sure they could hear it. "I need to tell you something. About how Joel and I met."

You told your parents the truth. Or, at least, what they needed to know. You explained that Celine introduced you to her agent, that the dating service was perfectly safe and vetted, that you wouldn't have done it if your options weren't so limited at the time but looking back on it now, it was the best decision you ever made. Their faces remained stoic as you told them Joel was the only man who hired you, that he had never explored an agency before, and without getting into the intention of deceiving Glenn to win the bid on the land, told them you ended up falling in love.

"I know this is a lot," you said breathlessly, hands shaking in your lap. "But I promise, it's just like hiring a matchmaker—"

"No, it's not," your mother said sharply, cutting you off. "Joel hired you for sex. He paid you for sex," she added, beginning to sound a little hysterical. You quickly shook your head.

"No, it wasn't like that," you replied defensively. "He just wanted someone to come with him to events and stuff like that. We didn't—"

"It's glorified prostitution," your father said, breaking his silence. Tears began to burn the backs of your eyes. You knew it wasn't going to be easy but fuck, you had at least hoped you were prepared enough to hear those words.

"It's... it's not," you sniffled.

"It is," he said, rising to his feet. "I was a detective for thirty years. You think I didn't come across my fair share of hookers? So he put you in expensive clothes and you think that makes it any better?"

Unable to meet his eye, you dragged in a shaky breath, fingers curling around your purse next to you.

"I blame myself," your mother suddenly said, throwing up her hands. "We must have gone wrong raising you. We never should have let you move to California. And we sure as hell should have never let you hang around that Celine. I always knew she was trouble, didn't I say?"

Your mother looked to your father for him to agree, but he was too busy glaring at you.

"You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed, you know that? You got any idea how fucking dangerous and stupid that was?"

"Stop!" you yelled, standing up with tears in your eyes.

"I always knew something strange was going on," your mom continued to mutter with her arms crossed. "It made no sense—"

"Just stop, I didn't tell you this to hear your opinions on it," you snapped, causing your mother to look at you with surprise. "I'm an adult, in case you forgot, and it was my choice. And I'm glad I did it because I met the most incredible man. He takes care of me, loves me — he would do anything for me."

Your father continued to fume, his eyes dark with anger and jaw clenched as tight as his fists.

Yeah, leaving Joel behind was the right move.

"You're right," your dad said, lowering his voice. "You didn't tell us until you needed something. So tell me — what kind of help do you think I can provide, hm? How can I help my daughter, who just finished telling me she dabbled in prostitution, and her fiancé, the man who dressed her up all pretty to pretend she was someone of status so he could fuck her?"

You winced, his words cutting like a goddamn knife. It was clear by that point your father wasn't going to help you. No amount of words or time would be able to change their minds, so you turned to pick up your purse.

"Nevermind. This was a bad idea. I'm leaving."

Your eyes landed on the pile of clothes your mother put on the couch next to you. A familiar looking football jersey laid on top, one your father always wore for good luck. He wore it whenever the Titans played, swearing up and down if your mother washed it, it would mess with the team's juju.

It made your heart break a little that he still had it. Countless memories of him wearing it throughout your childhood filtered through your mind. It wasn't always easy with your parents, but there were some good times, and football Sundays were always an event at your house.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step forward until something registered in your brain. You blinked and looked at the jersey again, the name on the back bothering you for some reason.

Behind you, your parents were bickering. Your mother wanted you to stay, wanted to start over. Your father was too heated. He was ranting about Joel and how he oughta go give him a piece of my mind when you slowly turned around.

"Mason?"

They both stopped speaking and looked at you like you had two heads. You clutched the jersey in your hand as you stared at them both.

"Yeah?" your father huffed. "What about it?"

"Steve Mason?" you asked. Your father rolled his eyes.

"Why are we talking about—"

"No. Not Steve," your dad said angrily. "Derrick Mason was the quarterback for the Titans."

You dropped it back onto the couch, strangely relieved. For a second, you thought —

"You're thinking of Steve McNair," your father said, "wide receiver. They were a dynamic duo back in '03."

"Who cares about football?" your mother shrieked, then turned to you again with her hands clasped. "Please stay. Let's talk about this. I know it's easy to fall into this lavish lifestyle, that this world can suck you in and you can easily lose yourself. I see it on television all the time, these reality shows — honey, you really should watch and see how these girls—"

"Steve McNair," you repeated, "and... Derrick Mason."

A chill ran down your spine. It felt like you couldn't move. The last twenty four hours had really done a number on you, it felt like you were operating at half speed, yet you still got there. It just took you an extra minute.

Slowly, you raised your eyes up from the couch and turned on your parents. Your mother was still squawking away and your dad was glowering at you, but it was nothing compared to the way you were looking at them.

"It was you."

Your mother finally shut up and they both gave you a confused look. You took a step forward and raised a shaky finger, pointing accusingly at them.

"You sent all those letters," you seethed, tears finally falling from your eyes.

To her credit, your mom tried to play dumb.

"Wh—what letters? What are you talking about? Don't change the subject!"

But your father knew the game was up. He could see it in your face, in the determination etched in your expression.

He sighed, his shoulders sagged, and he had the audacity to actually fucking smile.

"How'd you figure it out?"

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[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter Six: No Hard Feelings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A huge secret gets exposed after a (nearly) perfect day off with Joel.

Chapter Warnings: language, age gap, food and alcohol consumption, angst, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, sex in public, whatever it's called when both parties get off on getting caught having sex (specifically by one particular person), possessiveness

WC: 8.3K

Series Masterlist

Your head throbbed. Dried tears stained your cheeks, pulling your skin tight, almost painful. You wiped furiously at your eyes, hoping to find relief. Hoping to clear your vision so you could soak up the blood from Joel's face.

He sat before you on the bathroom floor. He looked exhausted, bruised, bloodied, and ashamed. His eye, the one that wasn't swollen shut, was pinned to his lap, unable to meet your own. His hair was a fucking mess and his shirt was ruined. How did it get to this point? How didn't you see this coming?

"'M so sorry, sweetheart."

His voice cracked. He rubbed at his neck and cleared his throat, still refusing to look at you. You sniffled and crouched down next to him. In one hand, you held a washcloth filled with ice. You pressed it against the cut on his forehead and you swallowed tightly.

What could you even say? You knew who Joel was when you fell in love with him. You knew what you were getting into. It was his fault, but it was also yours.

You remained silent. You let your tears fall while you tended to his wounds the best you could. You cleaned up the dried blood, disinfected his cuts, and bandaged them up. By the time you were almost done, he spoke again.

"Do you forgive me?"

You closed your eyes and let your hands fall to your lap. Two fat tears slipped past your eyelids and down your cheeks. Your chest ached, your throat felt tight, and all you wanted to do was go to sleep. Pretend that day never happened.

But that was impossible.

You had to deal with it. Had to wake up in the morning, take a deep breath, and fucking handle it.

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at him. The bruising was getting darker, but at least the blood was gone. Your breath caught in your throat and you bit back a sob.

"Joel..." your rasped, lip trembling, "what are we gonna tell everyone?"

Earlier that day

You were stressed. Burnt out.

So far, the trip to Fiji had been fun, yet absolutely exhausting. It was a constant juggling act, trying to divide your time evenly between wedding planning, work, Joel, and your parents. It felt like you hardly had any time to enjoy the hotel you both worked so hard on making a reality. So when Joel offered to take half a day off to spend some time together, just the two of you — no work, no wedding talk — you lit up. Even though your parents were leaving in two days and you felt guilty for being a little selfish with your time, you still took Joel up on the idea to relax around the resort. Besides, you had plans to get dinner and go dancing with them later that night.

The one part of the resort you were most excited about, even before the hotel was built, was the waterfall. It was gorgeous and added the perfect amount of ambiance to the space. The bubbling water and natural fauna surrounding it provided a peaceful little retreat in the middle of the bustling hotel. Guests were allowed to swim in the pool of water underneath it, and if they chose, could follow the narrow channel out towards the beach where it connected with the ocean.

It truly felt like an escape from all the noise and activity that otherwise filled the hotel. It was private due to the thick trees and plants surrounding the area, but in reality you were only just around the corner from the beach, which was filled with people, music, and activities.

"I can't believe we haven't spent any time here yet," you said in awe from your lounge chair next to the lagoon. The mist from the water kept you cool, but it wasn't even that necessary — the sun wasn't nearly as strong, almost unable to break through the thick greenery that spread up the rocky cliffs above your heads.

"Mhm," Joel hummed, sounding distracted, stretched out onto the lounger next to you. He was staring down at his phone and making a face you recognized all too well.

"You promised."

The whine in your voice would typically make you cringe but you felt it was warranted. He had taken the rest of the afternoon off so you could relax and it had hardly even been half an hour before he was already checking his phone.

"It ain't work," he assured you, then with a heavy sigh he held out his phone. You took it, squinting at the screen over your sunglasses. A giggle erupted from your throat when you saw the photo Sarah had sent of her pretending to break into Joel's liquor cabinet, followed up with another picture of her face down on the floor with an empty glass in her hand.

"Looks like she's having fun."

You handed the phone back to Joel, who still wore a scowl on his face.

"Gonna give me a stroke one day," he muttered before tucking his phone into the bag you brought down.

"Oh, come on. She's a good kid, you know that. It's what teenagers do," you laughed before settling back into your chair.

"Guess you're right," he huffed, "I'm still gettin' used to it."

You shot him a questioning look and he clarifies, "Bein' a dad to her. Feels like — I dunno... feels like I'm still catchin' up but she's got it all figured out."

You gave him a sweet smile, his vulnerability making your chest tighten for a second.

"You're a great dad," you told him softly. "Better than you think. She knows you love her and she feels safe. The rest will come in time."

The way he looked at you after made you wonder for a moment if you said something wrong. He was quiet and his face gave nothing away until he finally cleared his throat to speak.

"You're gonna be a great stepmom to her, too," he said, voice breaking a bit. "Already are, really."

Without hesitating, you reached over and pressed your lips firmly over his. His hand instantly came up to cup your face, holding firm and keeping you connected even after you tried to pull away. You only let his tongue dip inside your mouth for a few seconds before you giggled and squirmed away.

"Joel — there's people," you whispered. Your tone was meant to sound stern but you didn't sell it.

He glanced around the lagoon and shrugged. To be fair, there weren't that many guests around, and the ones that were seemed to be too preoccupied to pay you any attention.

"Is kissin' my future wife a crime?"

Your cheeks felt hot from the sudden rush you usually felt after Joel kissed you. Or touched you. Or looked at you.

"No..." you replied slowly, "but knowing you, a few more minutes of that would have led to one."

Something shifted behind his eyes, but it wasn't lust. It looked softer, deeper, like something was weighing on his mind. You sat up a little straighter and took off your sunglasses.

"What?"

He looked away. "What? Nothin'."

You frowned. "What were you thinking about just now?"

His lips parted and for a moment it looked like he was going to deny it again. Then he turned towards you with a deep breath, like he was steeling himself to tell you something. You leaned forward a bit, waiting while he thought it over.

"I've just been thinkin'..."

You swallowed at the serious tone in his voice, at how nervous he looked out of nowhere. It had a spike of adrenaline shooting through your veins.

"About what?"

His gaze fell to the ground and another agonizing ten seconds of silence passed before he said—

"Just thinkin' 'bout... Mark," he said. Your brows pinched together.

"Mark? The P.I.?"

He nodded and scratched his chin. "Yeah. Y'know, the crime stuff," he explained with a wave of his hand. "Just wondered if he got any further with Brooks."

He was lying. You knew Joel well enough to know that much, but you had no clue why. However, you decided not to push him. Whatever it was, you knew he would tell you in his own time.

"Well, the last he found out was Brooks is connected to some mysterious guy who lives on a boat, right?" you said.

"Not just some mysterious guy — a criminal," Joel corrected.

"Right," you agreed, mouth twisting a bit as you recalled the update from just the day before. Apparently Brooks had been caught visiting a man in the middle of the night. According to Mark, his body language and the time of night he chose to visit sent up some red flags. Within a few hours, Mark discovered the man on the boat had just been released from prison a few months ago for aggravated assault and attempted murder.

Needless to say, it just furthered Joel's argument that Brooks was behind the letters. And not only that, but raised valid concerns around your safety.

"This criminal wouldn't happen to be named Steve Mason, would he?" you asked.

Joel shook his head, poised to answer, when another voice cut him off.

"Steve Mason? Great goaltender."

You swiveled around in your chairs to find Scott and Tammy had just approached. You swallowed thickly and glanced nervously in Joel's direction.

"Uh, yeah," Joel stammered. He blinked the surprise away and stood to greet them. "Sorry, didn't, uh, didn't hear you come up."

Reluctantly, you stood and gave Tammy a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Your nose scrunched up when you smelled what you thought was hard alcohol coming from her breath, but it was barely lunchtime. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat, making it impossible to tell just by looking if she was drunk. Then your gaze dropped and you noticed they were also both in their swimsuits: Tammy in a teal one-piece with a white sarong tied around her waist and Scott with simple black trunks and boat shoes.

Unfortunately, it appeared they had the same plan as you.

"You a hockey fan?"

Joel's question had an edge to it that only you picked up on. Scott grinned before snagging the single empty lounger next to Joel.

"I'm a fan of anything I can gamble on." Once he spread out his towel and took a seat, he seemed to realize Tammy didn't have a spot next to him. He paused and shot her an apologetic look. "Sorry, hun. There ain't two together."

One look around the lagoon showed you at least three pairs of open loungers together, which caused a blanket of discomfort to settle over you all. Joel glanced your way once, quickly, confirming he felt it too, while Tammy slowly sunk down onto the lounger next to yours.

"Not over here, I meant," Scott clarified.

"We can shift down one," you offered, already standing. But Scott waved you off and stretched out.

"Don't worry yourself. We've been together a long time, we'll survive an hour apart."

His chuckle was meant to be good natured but the awkwardness was still palpable.

You slowly eased back down onto your seat. Were you seriously about to feel bad for Tammy? No. That would be insane. You decided you must have been misreading the situation and pushed it to the back of your mind.

"So," Joel began, "you enjoyin' your stay? Everything to your standards, I hope?"

His fingers laced together in his lap, thumbs fidgeting in quick circles. It was one of Joel's tells — when something else was on his mind, he always did the same two things. Sure enough, when you looked at his mouth, his jaw was subtly sawing back and forth.

Scott didn't seem to notice. Or care. He looked completely at ease, arms tucked behind his head, tanned legs stretched out across the lounger. Next to you, Tammy busied herself in her tote bag.

"Having a great time," he replied enthusiastically. "This place is truly something. And, hey, y'know Joel, I've been meaning to talk to you," Scott added, slipping off his sunglasses and sitting up. "There's no hard feelings about the bid. I know how this business works and as much as I'd have loved to build something here, you did a remarkable job, bud."

"Oh, uh — thanks," Joel said, accepting Scott's outstretched hand. Tammy huffed under her breath, quiet enough so only you could hear while raising her arm with an air of impatience to flag down an attendant.

"Yeah, I gotta say, when I first heard your plans, I thought it was a little ambitious," he continued, elbows propped on his bare knees, "but damn if you don't got one hell of a vision."

You tuned them out when they started to talk shop — you heard something about Scott's grand plan to open a resort in Australia and how ambitious of a project it would be. Instead, you settled into your lounger and closed your eyes. The water falling rhythmically into the lagoon drowned out Tammy ordering a stiff cocktail and Scott yapping about projections and succession plans.

As unpleasant as it was, you tried not to let them ruin your down time with Joel. You figured eventually they would go off on their own or Joel would find some excuse to extract you both, but when it was approaching an hour of Scott's non-stop talking and Tammy's second drink, you were beginning to wonder how the hell you were going to get out of this.

"... yeah, and last I heard, old Zach's went and married some young thing he knew for six months. Hope he's got an ironclad prenup, am I right?"

Scott's boisterous laugh echoed off the walls of the cliffs and you had never been more grateful for your sunglasses hiding your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Joel chuckled politely next to you and Tammy cursed under her breath when she spilled some of her drink onto her bathing suit.

Then you heard Joel clear his throat while picking up his phone, looking poised to make up some excuse to leave. You sighed quietly with relief and readied yourself to stand when Scott jumped in before Joel could even get one word out.

"Hey, walk with me for a second, will ya Joel?" he asked, standing and slipping on his shoes.

Joel glanced between you and Scott, clearly floundering for an excuse not to go. You grimaced when Scott's back was turned and gave Joel a subtle nod, as if to say, just be quick and we'll get the hell out of here when you come back.

"Yeah, alright," Joel said reluctantly. He shot you an apologetic look and you gave him a tight smile in return.

"Hurry back. You promised we'd swim in the ocean before our reservations, remember?"

"That's right. Thanks, darlin'," he replied, immediately rolling with the lie. Then he turned to Scott. "We won't be more than ten minutes, right?"

"You got it," Scott called over his shoulder.

Joel began to walk away and mouthed an I'm sorry when Tammy was too busy scrolling on her phone to notice. You held up all ten fingers, ten minutes, and he nodded again before twisting around and jogging after Scott.

Suddenly, it felt too quiet. Even though you were surrounded by other guests swimming and enjoying the lagoon, the air just thickened after the men left. What the hell were you supposed to talk about with Tammy? Nothing, you figured. You both knew where you stood with the other and there was no reason to pretend when no one else was around. Still, it was uncomfortable just sitting there, so close to this woman who hated you from the very moment you met and always seemed determined to insert herself in your lives whenever she was around.

Just when you were thinking about getting up for a swim to kill some time, she spoke, startling you.

"How's the wedding planning?"

You froze, taken aback for a moment before relaxing your shoulders and forcing yourself to look at her. She still held an almost empty glass of some clear liquor in one hand, her phone in the other. Her sunglasses were pushed onto the top of her head now as she scrolled, giving you a glimpse of the boozy, glassed over look in her eyes.

"Good," you said tightly. "Almost done, actually. I think we just need to sign off on the final touches and—"

"That's good," Tammy replied, cutting you off. You frowned. "Prenup?"

"Um... what?"

She dragged her eyes up to meet yours, her head a little wobbly when she clarified, "are you signing a prenup?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," you said defiantly.

She scoffed and looked back at her phone. "That's a yes."

You bristled instantly, and even though you shouldn't, you snapped back, "what does it matter to you?"

"Doesn't matter to me, hun," she shrugged, "but you oughta get a good goddamn lawyer to look that thing over, because men are fucking dogs. They'll steal the best years of your life and still drop you at the curb like you're trash."

You bit back the insult poised to leave the tip of your tongue and instead leaned back in your chair with your arms crossed tightly across your chest.

"Joel wouldn't do that."

Tammy barked out a laugh and set down her empty glass. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side so she was fully facing you, then leaned forward like she was about to tell you some big secret.

"Yes, he would. They all do. They're all liars. They think we're stupid, that we don't see what's really going on. But I do," she said, voice firm as she pointed angrily at her flushed chest. "And you should know better than anyone how fiercely people hide who they really are."

"Me?" you sputtered, pulse suddenly pumping fast in your throat. You swallowed dryly. "Why me?"

Tammy rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to answer when her phone rang next to her on the lounger.

"Oh," she said, as casual as can be. "It's my son. One second—"

"Wait—"

"Hello?" Tammy answered, standing and strolling away, leaving you with a giant pit in your stomach.

What the hell did that mean? Your head began to throb so you pinched your nose and closed your eyes. Was Tammy just being Tammy, or was she implying she knew your secret? Could she have been behind the letters all along? Plus, what was with her sudden hatred towards men?

Maybe she was just drunk and you were trying to make sense out of gibberish. Or maybe she was just stirring the pot and trying to get under your skin, like she always had a habit of doing.

It was too confusing. There were too many threads to follow and it was becoming too stressful.

You bit your nail nervously and glanced over your shoulder, hoping to see Joel coming back your way, but unfortunately he was no where to be found.

What the hell was taking so long?

"You ever have a huge secret, Joel?"

Joel blinked slowly, hoping his facial expression wasn't giving away his true emotions.

"Uh..." he trailed off, idly scratching the back of his neck while Scott paid for the shots he insisted they take. "Sure. I mean, who hasn't at one point or another?"

Scott sighed heavily, slid two bills across the bar as a tip, and handed Joel a glass of tequila.

"Cheers," he mumbled, clinking his own against Joel's before tossing back the liquor with a wince.

Joel was a little slower to bring the glass to his lips, but he drank it down all the same, making a face when the liquid burned his throat.

"Why d'you ask?"

Scott held up two fingers to the bartender and Joel shook his head.

"I'm good—"

"C'mon man, just one more," Scott urged, then gave the pretty young bartender a flashy smile. "Two more, sweetheart, thanks."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, shot him a grin, and turned to sashay down the other end of the bar for the bottle. Scott leaned over a bit to watch her hips move and made a pleased noise in the back of his throat before turning back to Joel.

"Huh?"

"Why'd you ask? 'Bout a secret?"

He sighed again, leaning against the bar on one elbow.

"After this trip, I'm gonna ask Tammy for a divorce."

Joel's jaw dropped right as the bartender returned with their drinks. Scott turned to thank her and send her a wink while Joel tried to collect himself.

"Wh- what?" was all he managed to stammer as Scott pushed a glass into his hand.

"It just ain't working anymore," Scott shrugged before swallowing down his tequila in one smooth move. This time, Joel didn't hesitate. He threw it back, needing the alcohol now to calm his racing heart. On one hand, he felt relieved that Scott's secret wasn't some veiled threat towards him and the blackmail letters. But on the other, he felt guilty. Scott was about to share intimate details about his marriage to the man who used to fuck his wife behind his back.

"We've been glorified roommates for years, Joel," Scott said with a shake of his head. "And I've tried. Trust me — I don't wanna blow up my family. But the lives we have now... it's like we got nothing in common anymore. Y'know what I mean?"

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat. Of course he didn't know. You were everything to him, and the one time he thought he lost you for good was the worst month of his life. He couldn't imagine not waking up next to you everyday and sharing every moment with you. Hell, he hated being away from you at work, even if you were only a few floors below.

Scott must have noticed the conflict in Joel's face because he laughed and plopped down on an empty stool.

"'Course you don't. You're about to be newlyweds. It's always easy at that stage, but fuck... what I'd give to go back and slow down for a minute instead of marrying the first girl in college who looked at me like I had all the answers."

"Shit..." Joel murmured. He scratched his chin, gaze scanning the beach, the water, the boats... anything in order to collect his thoughts and come up with something meaningful to say. He wasn't usually the guy people went to with their personal problems. He had some friends, sure, but they were surface area friends. They were people he spent time with to maintain connections, usually business related. And he only just recently rebuilt his relationship with Tommy, so even his own brother hasn't come to him in confidence for many years.

Fortunately, it didn't seem like Scott wanted advice or words of wisdom. He just wanted someone to talk to because he just kept going.

"There's someone else, Joel."

That knocked him on his ass. Slowly, Joel sank down into the stool beside Scott, mind racing.

It shouldn't even come as a surprise, really. Joel knew more than anyone that their relationship couldn't have been as strong as they put on, but it still felt odd to sit there and listen to Scott talk about some young girl he started to see a few months ago, all the while knowing Tammy had done the same.

"She says she loves me. Calls me or texts me every single day. She's just so fucking easy to get along with — no drama, no nitpicking... and she's so grateful. You know what that's like? To have a beautiful woman fall at your feet like that?"

Joel shifted uneasily in his seat and flagged down the bartender for two more shots. Did you fall at his feet? To him, it felt more like him falling at yours, but if he was being truthful, you both fell equally as hard.

"What am I saying? Of course you do," Scott chuckled, gripping his third shot in his hand. "You figured it all out. Even fucking Zach figured it out. Younger women..." He nodded to himself before bringing the glass to his lips. "That's what I should've been doing all along. Now I'll be lucky if I can open a spot in Australia with the way Tammy's gonna take me to the cleaners. We got married so young, a prenup was never even a thought."

Joel didn't say anything. He just tossed back the shot and stood up. Something about the way Scott spoke about his new girlfriend and even Tammy left him feeling uneasy.

"I oughta get back," he said, jutting a thumb over this shoulder. "I promised—"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Scott said, waving him off. "Thanks for listening to me, but — hey, one second."

Scott stood, closing the few feet of distance Joel had managed to make by backing up, and held out his hand.

"Just in case I don't see you before we leave tomorrow, I wanted to thank you, Joel. I know we've always had a bit of a competition between us, but, y'know... thanks."

Joel shook his outstretched hand and nodded. "'Course. Safe travels."

When he turned away, hands shoved into the pockets of his swim trunks, he shook his head in disbelief.

Not that he needed any more reason, but after that conversation, he couldn't have been happier to have you in his life.

Your shoulders sagged with relief when you finally spotted Joel rounding the corner, back into the lagoon. Quickly, you packed up your things and stood up.

"Thank god," you breathed, eyes darting around once to make sure Tammy was still out of hearing range. You tossed your tote bag over your shoulder with a scowl as he got closer.

"Where the hell—"

Joel's hands cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a deep kiss, temporarily silencing you. For a moment, you didn't move. You allowed yourself to melt a little bit in his comforting embrace, that is, until he flicked his tongue out and you tasted tequila. You screwed up your face and immediately pulled away with a disgusted noise.

"Joel, it's like, two in the afternoon!"

He grinned and dropped his hands to his sides.

"Sorry. Just... I love you."

You rolled your eyes with a smirk. "Yeah? How much did you have to drink?"

"Not that much," he replied defensively while gathering his things. "A man can't be happy to see the love of his life waitin' for him in the most beautiful place on earth?"

"Oh, boy..." you muttered. "C'mon. Let's get the hell out of here. You promised me the beach."

Joel's eyebrows furrowed when he turned to follow you back the way he just came.

"I thought you made that up?"

"I did, but now I feel like I'm owed it after you left me with—" You glanced around quickly and lowered your voice to a hiss when you said, "—Tammy."

Joel just grinned as you both stepped out onto the hot, white sand. Most of the loungers were already taken, but it didn't matter. The cabana reserved for Joel and his guests wasn't being used. When you spotted it, bright white canvas fluttering in the wind, beckoning you into what you knew to be cool air underneath, you couldn't have been more relieved.

That is, until you spotted the name on the cabana reservation next to yours.

You groaned after recognizing Scott and Tammy's last name and marched up the two little steps into privacy. Even the cooler air and mist from the fans couldn't temper your mood.

"Why are they fucking everywhere?"

"They're leavin' tomorrow, don't worry," Joel assured you after setting down his things.

"Not soon enough," you grumbled. You opened the small fridge and fished out a bottle of water, taking a sip with a huff.

Joel checked the flaps of the cabana, making sure it was tied tight on each section. "You wanna open these, or—"

"Absolutely not," you said, "not with our new neighbors."

"C'mon, now, they won't bother us," Joel assured you, but still kept them closed with the exception of the front of the cabana, facing the sea.

You sighed, sinking into the massive square couch.

"Sorry. She just... gets under my skin," you mumbled. He watched you flick the hair from your neck, cooling down the skin underneath, and adjust your bikini.

"What'd she say this time?"

You shrugged. "Nothing. Just her usual bullshit."

As if right on cue, you heard Scott and Tammy's voices growing closer somewhere outside. You pursed your lips and braced yourself for when they walked by the front of your cabana and gave you both a wave. You shot back a tight smile but once they disappeared from view, your face fell.

"She was saying shit like you're gonna leave me one day and that I should rethink the prenup."

Joel scoffed and sat down next to you.

"First of all," he said, dropping everything so he could turn and face you. "She don't know nothin' 'bout us. You know I'd never do that to you. You know how much you mean to me. There's no one else on earth I'd want to spend my life with."

You fought back the grin that tugged at the corners of your mouth, still determined to sit with your foul mood a little longer. But there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice — he was right. Tammy didn't know shit.

"She might know more about us than we think," you reminded him. Joel shook his head.

"I don't think they're behind the letters."

"Joel, I know you think it's Brooks, but I'm telling you, she said something to me today like, I should know more than anyone that people hide who they really are. And aside from that, this entire week she's been acting weird, even for her—"

"She's actin' weird 'cause they're havin' problems," Joel said, immediately stopping your train of thought. Your jaw dropped and you tilted your head to the side curiously.

"What?"

"Scott just told me he's 'bout to ask for a divorce. Says he's found someone new."

Joel picked up his phone, giving you a chance to think.

Slowly, you began to piece things together, bit by bit. The drinking, the abrupt lunch cancellation, Tammy boldly flirting with Joel right in front of her husband.

"Maybe she knows," you finally said. He glanced up at you. "About the other woman, I mean." Joel nodded and leaned back into the sofa.

"Probably."

"She certainly seemed to have a low opinion of men in general today," you mused, only half-watching as a beginners surf lesson started far down by the shore.

It was quiet for a beat and then Joel reached out to grasp your hand, snapping you out of your trance.

"If you don't wanna do the prenup, then we don't do the prenup."

Despite the drinks he had, his eyes looked clear and his voice sounded so sure. He pinned you with his dark gaze, dragged his thumb lovingly over the back of your hand, and smiled.

"I mean it," he added, as if he could read your mind. "I don't give a shit. None of this means anythin' without you."

Alright, that made you cave. You grinned and scooted closer to him on the couch.

"Putting that in your vows, too?"

Pleased to see your bad mood fade, he leaned in with a smirk, breath hot against your ear.

"There's my girl," he murmured, hand sliding up to circle your wrist.

You hummed, letting yourself get lost in his touch, his voice, his scent — everything. No matter what, he always had a way of calming you down.

"Sorry," you grumbled before tossing one leg loosely across his lap. You tilted your head to rest on his bare shoulder and you sighed. "I shouldn't let her get to me. And I know I complain about her a lot."

"'S'okay," Joel murmured, hand now drifting to your knee. He rubbed soothing circles into your skin and you closed your eyes. "I think it's kinda cute when you get all territorial."

"Oh, yeah?" you grinned, "then maybe I should have done what I really wanted and yanked those tacky fucking extensions right off of her head. You'd've loved that."

You were joking, obviously. And Joel did laugh. But then you felt him swell underneath his swim trunks and your smile faltered. When you opened your eyes to look up at him, you noticed the tightness in his jaw and there was a pink tint to his ears that wasn't there before.

You gasped, holding back a laugh, and sat up straighter.

"Oh, my god, you really would have liked that."

He gives you another laugh, but that time it sounded more strained, and without a shirt to hide it, you could see the flush blooming across his chest.

Your gaze flickered briefly through the opening in the cabana, and back to him. Then, with a streak of boldness, you dropped your hand to his lap, palm cupping the hard outline of him through his shorts. He grunted and his hips lifted, urging you to move your hand. So, you did.

"Should we go back to the room?" you asked, voice low in his ear.

He spread his legs a little wider, eyes glued to the way you stroked up and down his clothed length.

"Think we can make do right here," he replied, then stole a glance up at you, grinning when he spotted the flicker of excitement you tried to hide. He leaned forward, teeth grazing your ear, pulse fluttering when he added, "What'dya think?"

The arousal was already flooding your veins when you stole another look towards the front of the cabana, the only area where someone could see. Being a few feet off the ground and in a relatively private part of the beach afforded you even more security, but the prospect of someone walking by and catching a glimpse set your skin on fire.

Joel's lips moved to your jaw as you contemplated what he was asking. Your eyes slid shut, already feeling yourself giving in, but just as you craned your neck to the side to grant him better access, you heard Scott's voice somewhere outside.

"You sure you don't wanna go for a dip? Water looks perfect."

"I told you, I'm not ruining my hair!"

Their voices were distant but still close enough to remind you just how thin the walls were.

"He's going to swim, b-but Tammy's not." Joel smirked at the tremble in your voice.

"So?"

"Sh— she might hear..." you murmured, gasping when Joel hauled you onto his lap. Your eyes snapped open in surprise and you pulled your hand from his lap to grasp onto his shoulders for support. He smirked, tipping his head back to rest on the back of the couch.

"Yeah. She might."

Something about the way he said it made you believe he wanted her to hear. And, fuck... you kind of wanted that, too.

Joel glanced over your shoulder once, quickly, before untying his swim trunks. You leaned back, nervously biting your lip, and watched when he lifted his hips a fraction to pull down his shorts.

You held back a moan when he freed his cock, the heaviness of it slapping obscenely against his stomach. But before you could admire it any further, he was urging you forward, tapping your hip so you hovered above his lap. He hooked two fingers into the fabric of your bikini bottoms and tugged them to the side with a shaky, eager breath that had the muscles in your stomach pulling tight.

"Christ," he growled, then stretched his hands wide across your hips. His thumbs slipped down, spreading your pussy, groaning at the sight before swiping two fingers through your folds. You jumped a little at his touch, anticipation getting the best of you.

His chest heaved when his slick fingers emerged. Then, he locked eyes with you, popped them greedily into his mouth, and grabbed you by the back of your neck.

"C'mere," he whispered right before your mouths collided in a hungry, frantic kiss. It was rushed, the way you devoured one another, tongues dancing and noses bumping together, not because you were worried someone would see, but because your desperation for one another created such a deep ache that it made it nearly impossible to breathe.

"Gonna be quiet?" he asked, nipping at your lower lip. You gave him a nod and held your breath when he dropped one hand to wrap around his cock. You both watched, parted mouths inches apart, while he gave himself a few strokes. When he dropped his fist to his base, you scooted forward with an eagerness that made him chuckle.

"Want it bad, huh?" he teased, "Need it to make you feel better?"

"Yes," you whispered.

He hummed his approval, but when you lifted your hips and felt the fat tip of him nudge at your entrance, you leaned forward to murmur into his ear, "I wanna feel you leaking out of me next time I have to see her."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, your possessiveness taking him off guard, but before he could react you were already sinking down onto his cock and all he could manage was a choked noise as your heat enveloped him.

"Jesus," he groaned, low and filthy as you took another inch. His hands flew to find a home on your ass, fingers spreading wide across each cheek. He had to fight the urge to pull you down, to make you take him all at once, but god help him — he fucking loved the strangled noise you made and the borderline painful look on your face whenever he did that. But he resisted.

You frantically grabbed at his shoulders, his arms, the back of the couch — anything within reach to keep you grounded. The way he stretched and filled you left you breathless. It had your vision blurring and your heart kicking against your chest. And once you finally dropped all the way down so your hips sat flushed with his, you completely forgot where you were, forgot that anyone could walk by and see you straddling his lap, and certainly forgot all about Tammy.

In that moment, it was just you and Joel. Nothing else.

Your eyelids fluttered shut and you tipped your head back with a sigh.

"Feel so good, Joel," you mumbled. You rested your forehead against his, just barely rolling your hips. The heaviness of him inside you was exquisite, addicting, overwhelming. His fingers slowly traced over your spine, his touch delicate and loving. When he reached your shoulder blades, he flattened his palms and pressed you forward. There was hardly a sliver of air between you, so close that you could only flex your hips but you didn't mind because the angle had him so deep inside of you, nothing else mattered. Not Tammy, not the letters, not your parents or even Brooks — your mind was blissfully blank.

Joel seemed just as lost in it as you. His forehead rolled back and forth over yours before he let his head fall to your shoulder, burying his face in your neck. His hot breath fanned across your skin, lips suctioning mindlessly to your collarbone as you began to move faster. You could feel the blunt edge of his fingernails digging into your back. It sent a jolt from your sternum straight down between your legs, adding to the pressure already building.

You hadn't even realized you were making soft moans until the grating sound of Tammy's voice somewhere outside snapped you back to reality. Your hips stalled and you held your breath as you listened. It sounded like she was talking on the phone, maybe pacing back and forth based on the way her voice traveled: louder, then softer, every few seconds.

"Shit," you hissed, still unmoving in Joel's lap. You cocked your head to the side, listening, hoping she would go back into her cabana. But Joel didn't hear. Or, more likely, Joel didn't care.

"Keep goin'," he grit out, words muffled by your skin. You shook your head.

"She's—"

Then he lifted his hips, snapping against you harshly. A cry slipped past your lips and you slapped your hand across your mouth, but Joel didn't stop. His arms tightened around you, holding you in place while he took over. He lifted his head from your shoulder and met your clouded gaze.

"I said — keep — goin'."

Each strained word was paired with a deep thrust. Your eyes rolled back, you nodded, and resumed bouncing in his lap. But his eyes never left your face. Joel watched, entranced, as you fought like hell to be quiet, stifling the urge to whimper and moan each time his cock buried inside of you.

"Look at me," he pleaded. The wrecked sound of his voice made you refocus on him, and the sight of his flushed face and heated stare had your cunt clenching around his girth. His brows furrowed and he moaned, but you quickly shook your head, thinking too loud.

"I don't care," he quickly said, then to further prove his point, took your wrist and tore your hand away from your mouth. Your eyes widened, jaw dropping the harder he fucked up into you, and that was when you realized it — he wanted her to hear.

"Joel, I — I can't," you stammered. You heard him tut under his breath and then his hands dropped to your waist, holding you down so he could grind against you. Your thighs shook and you gasped at the sudden friction against your swollen clit, just barely keeping yourself from crying out.

"C'mon, I wanna hear you," he begged, hips still rolling, cock so deep that it knocked the air from your lungs. "Wanna hear how good I make you feel, darlin'."

It felt like you were short circuiting. One half of you desperate to please him, to give him what he wanted. But the other half pulling in the opposite direction, screaming at you, reminding you how embarrassed you'll be if you give in.

So, you cheated. Just a little.

When you heard Tammy's voice fade, indicating she was walking in the opposite direction, you knew you had a few seconds. You moaned his name, panted obscenities, whimpered unintelligible noises until her voice floated back a little clearer and you dropped forward, sealing your lips hastily over his.

Joel might have realized it, he might not. You didn't know. He slid his tongue into your mouth, greedily licking past your teeth. Your legs shook, stomach twitched — muscles pulled so taught, it felt like you might snap at any moment. Tears burned the backs of your eyes and when that familiar white hot heat low in your stomach burst, you couldn't hold back. You slumped forward, moaning his name, every nerve ending sparking until your muscles finally relaxed and you closed your eyes, content.

Vaguely, you heard Tammy's voice suddenly pause, but you were too far gone to care. That was when Joel wrapped his arms around you and stilled, throwing his head back with a loud groan of his own. You sighed, buried your face against his neck, breathing him in as he pumped you full of his cum.

It was about ten seconds after you both quieted down that you heard Tammy clear her throat and continue speaking. Your eyes snapped open when you heard the tone in her voice: the discomfort, the shock. She must have heard something. You weren't exactly as quiet as you wanted.

"Fuck," you whispered, embarrassment clawing up your chest. But Joel just chuckled and leaned back, still holding you firmly against his chest.

"Do you think she heard us?" you asked, still sounding a little breathless.

You felt him hum, the sound rumbling against his broad chest. "I hope so."

Your cheeks burned. "You're disgusting," you scolded, but he could hear the smile in your voice without even having to open his eyes.

"I just gave you what you wanted, baby," he cooed, voice smooth as silk when he added, "you're gonna feel me drippin' outta you when we walk outta here."

You scoffed and sat upright with a tired groan. Joel opened his eyes and gazed up at you with that soft, sated look you loved so much.

"I'm not stepping foot out of this cabana until they leave."

Joel twisted his mouth and shook his head. "Don't be a tease, now. Gotta back up what you say." He gently lifted you off him with a grunt, sliding out of you. You winced and before you could do it yourself, Joel shifted your bathing suit bottoms back into place.

"Here's what we're gonna do," he said lowly, cupping your mound with his palm. You inhaled sharply, still far too sensitive for any pressure, but you didn't shy away. His eyes drifted back up to you and a slow smile stretched across his face. "We're gonna walk outta here, you're gonna look her in the eye, wave, 'n all the while my fuckin' cum is gonna be leakin' outta that pretty little pussy."

You tried to swallow the thick lump in your throat, but it was no use. His deep voice and firm touch had you like putty in his hands.

"Joel—" you rasped, but he shook his head again and stood up to adjust his swim trunks.

"Nuh-uh," he said. He wasn't going to hear any arguing. "C'mon, let's go for a swim."

A swim? A fucking swim? How, when your legs still felt like jelly? You would sink like a stone.

But when he tossed you an impatient look over his shoulder, you sensed there was no getting out of it. So you got to your feet, and a little unsteadily, joined him at the opening of the cabana. He grinned, happy to see you had stopped trying to resist, and pecked a quick kiss to your lips.

With his arm draped proudly across your shoulders, he led you out of the cabana and back onto the pristine white sand. Scott was just walking up the beach, drying off with a towel as he moved. He gave you both a friendly wave, completely oblivious. Joel waved back and dropped his hand to your side, lightly pinching you. A quiet reminder. You swallowed and forced your gaze to your right, spotting Tammy in the shade of their cabana holding her phone. Her cheeks looked pink and sure, it could have been from the tropical heat, but the way she struggled to meet your eye when you brought a heavy arm up to wave made you think otherwise.

"Feel it?"

Your breath hitched. Stomach pulled tight. Then, between your legs, you felt a thick, sticky drop fall and roll through your folds.

"Yeah," you breathed, following Joel down the beach in a haze. He chuckled.

"Good."

Foolishly, you thought you had seen the last of Scott and Tammy. At least, for that trip.

Joel had said they were supposed to leave the next day and your evening was dedicated to one last hurrah with your parents. They had two days left on their trip, but they had planned an all-day excursion for their last day in Fiji, so you didn't anticipate running into them again.

And much to your delight, you actually had a very fun night of dinner and dancing. Your parents seemed relaxed, like they had finally come around to understanding not only Joel, but you. They laughed at Joel's jokes, talked about the wedding like they were actually looking forward to it, and when your dad pulled Joel aside to smoke cigars, your mom asked for your opinions on her dress for the big day.

You had no idea what caused their change of heart but you were too grateful to care. It was the first time in a very long time that you felt like everything may actually work out. It made you feel light. It gave you hope.

Until you returned to The Parador, and all that flew right out the window.

"The waterfall looks especially beautiful at night," you gushed to your mom, pulling her up the stairs and into the lobby. "There's lights built into the cliffs behind the water and — oh, you just gotta see it up close before you leave."

Behind you, Joel and your father were discussing golf, a topic you know Joel loathed but familiarized himself with given how many millionaires enjoy spending time on the golf course. Needless to say, Joel was very good at pretending to love the sport. It seemed like he was saying all the right things because your dad was talking about follow through and backswing when a loud, angry voice boomed across the almost empty lobby.

You skid to a stop, both you and your mom, and whipped around to locate the man who shouted Miller! with an undercurrent of anger that sent a shiver of fear down your spine.

Across the lobby, a red faced Scott followed closely by Tammy stormed your way. With each menacing step, the pure disgust and rage on his face became clearer and clearer. Right when you noticed Tammy's makeup was smeared across her eyes and cheeks from countless tears, Joel moved in front of you to act as a shield.

"You got something to say to me?" Scott yelled, still advancing closer. Joel's arm shot backwards, blindly locating you. He ushered you further back while outstretching his other hand towards Scott.

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, but you've—"

"You don't know what I'm talking about?" Scott echoed. His mouth contorted into a nasty sneer. Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest, you could hardly hear when he came to a stop a few feet away and asked loudly—

"Did you fuck my wife, Joel?"

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[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter Five: In A Tight Spot

Paring: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel spends a lot of time and money trying to figure out who is behind the letters while you are unexpectedly forced to confront someone from your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, food and alcohol consumption, fluff, reader having some PTSD type symptoms, anxiety, possessive/protective joel

WC: 7.2K

Series Masterlist

Joel spent a good portion of the next morning on and off the phone with his lawyers while you nervously bounced around the room. You had lunch plans with Zoe and Mary at the house, and you knew Joel must have had about one thousand things he would rather be doing, but unfortunately both of your attention had been preoccupied with the stupid, anonymous note.

It wasn't your fault — you knew that. But you still felt the guilt weighing you down as you got ready for lunch.

He sought you out through the agency. He made that choice. He knew what the ramifications would be if the truth ever got out.

But he always expected your arrangement to be temporary. That was the deal — neither of you ever expected to fall in love and actually get married.

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom mirror when you heard Joel's voice in the bedroom. It sounded like he was wrapping up yet another phone call and he sounded tense. You watched your face fall even more in the mirror at his tone, that heavy feeling continually pulling at your chest, suffocating you.

He grumbled under his breath and you heard his phone get tossed carelessly onto the soft comforter before he appeared in the doorway, arms crossed tightly and leaning against the frame.

"You look pretty," he said after a minute, nodding towards the floor length turquoise sundress you picked.

"Thanks." But when the smile didn't reach your eyes, Joel frowned.

"'S'alright, darlin', we'll figure it out," he assured you. He pushed off the frame and stepped into the room, hovering behind you as you slipped on your jewelry. You silently watched each other in the mirror until your face eventually crumpled. As if he was expecting it, he was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and press a kiss to the top of your head.

"Don't cry," he murmured into your hair. You leaned back into his chest, lower lip trembling as you fought back the tears that threatened to ruin the makeup you literally just put on.

"Why is this happening?" you whimpered, turning around. Your palms slid up the pristine white dress shirt he had on, hands lacing together around the back of his neck. Shit — now you really had to be careful. Your smeared makeup would ruin his shirt in a heartbeat and you couldn't stand the thought of fucking up one more thing.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a half sad smile. "The more money y'got, the more likely this kind of shit happens. I'm just sorry you got dragged into it."

You sniffled and blinked the last of your tears away, wishing more than ever that you could press your face into his neck, just to get as close as possible.

"Wha— what did the lawyer say?"

Joel searched your face for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether or not to tell you, but ultimately he caved with a heavy sigh.

"Said there ain't much to do til demands are made," he began, "but... they made a few calls, did a little diggin' — called the agency, maybe some source, I don't know — and they found a lead."

When your eyes brightened with hope, he quickly shook his head. "Just a fake name. But it was a man who made a suspicious call about a week ago askin' 'bout..."

When he trailed off, letting his gaze settle somewhere behind you, you curled a finger around a lock of his hair and gave it a firm tug, pulling his attention back to you.

"What did they ask?"

"He asked 'bout — you," Joel said bluntly. "Asked if you were available, what your rates were — shit like that."

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it was no use. Anxiety was already crawling up your spine. You could feel it stretching and clawing at your skin.

"What— what did t-the agency say?" you whispered. Joel could hear the fear in your voice and he tugged you closer.

"They got a strict policy. They don't give away information like that," he said. Your shoulders relaxed a bit at that, until he said, "Doesn't really matter much. Whoever it is knows — they were just tryin' to confirm it. You're absolutely sure your contract is still in the safe at home?"

You nodded. "Yes. I'm sure," you told him confidently. You never had any reason to take it out after you watched Joel lock it away the week before you moved in together.

"Good. The lawyers think he's tryin' to spook us — get one of us to confess. So they said don't say shit to anyone, no matter what proof they think they got. Alright?"

"Yes," you said. "I promise."

"Did you ever tell Zoe 'bout—"

"No," you replied, cutting him off with a firm shake of your head. "I wouldn't do that without running it by you. Only Liam and Celine know."

"Alright, then we're fine," he shrugged. He gave you a reassuring smile, but it wasn't really working. You felt like there was a pit in your stomach, and even though it was irrational, you still felt guilty.

"C'mon, what is it?" Joel urged when he saw the look on your face.

You dropped your chin to your chest. You could feel the emotion bubbling up inside you again and you were doing everything you could to keep yourself from crying when you finally whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"What'dya got to be sorry for?"

He swayed you a bit, side to side in his arms, trying to get you to snap out of your funk.

"I feel like — like this is my fault somehow."

Joel laughed and it had you tipping you head up to look at him.

"How's me fallin' in love with you your fault?"

You blinked, then a small smile pulled at your lips. He saw it, cupped your cheek and leaned down, brushing his lips softly over yours before straightening back up.

"I don't care how we met. I'm just so fuckin' glad every single day that we did."

Your smile stretched wider and your fears were temporarily forgotten.

"You gonna put that in your vows?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Sounded pretty good, huh?"

"Lose the curse word," you giggled, then squealed when Joel tightened his grip on your waist and nipped playfully at your neck.

"Not my style," he mumbled.

Yeah, he had you there.

"Hey! You're gonna make me late," you whined when his lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses across your bare shoulder.

"Can't help it. Y'look so goddamn beautiful in this dress."

You sighed, relaxing into his hold. Life threw you a curveball, sure — but you've been through worse together. Could Joel lose unfathomable amounts of money if the stock tanked due to your secret being exposed? Sure. But at least you'd still have each other, and that would be enough.

Right?

"Shit," he growled into your skin when his phone rang from the spot where he tossed it on the bed. He took a step back and let you go, but before he left the room, he scanned your face one last time.

"You alright now?"

You nodded and gave him a convincing smile, but before he dipped into the bedroom you called out for him to wait.

"What was the fake name?"

He looked confused for a moment before answering.

"Steve Mason," he said, swiveling back around and disappearing into the bedroom. "The investigators ran a scan — no one by that name's got anythin' to do with us. Unless you know the goaltender for the Flyers."

You heard him answer the phone with a sharp yeah? and you frowned. That name sounded vaguely familiar, but you couldn't place it. You snatched up your phone and googled the name, finding Joel was right — Steve Mason was a retired hockey player.

You decided to brush it off. It's a common name, maybe you just thought it sounded familiar.

When you closed out of Steve Mason's Wikipedia page, you noticed the time and cursed under your breath. If you didn't hurry, you would be late for lunch with Mary and Zoe.

From the moment you and Zoe locked eyes at lunch, you could tell she was practically salivating to find out what Joel thought of the letter. Naturally, with Mary sitting right between you in her luxurious sitting room, it was impossible to talk about it. Instead, you politely sipped your mojito and chatted about the stifling heat on that particular day.

"I was hoping the forecast would be wrong and we could sit outside, but my makeup nearly melted just from taking poor Effie out to do her business."

Mary pouted in the direction of her little white Pomeranian, who was fast asleep on a custom orthopedic dog bed that probably cost hundreds of dollars.

You fanned yourself for effect and nodded. "I thought I was used to island heat, but this really is something else."

"Hopefully this heat wave won't last too long. Trevor and I have that charity event this weekend and I'm almost certain it's outside," Zoe added. She leaned forward to gingerly pick up a water cracker, then scooped a small amount of caviar on top. You shuddered to yourself and focused on your cheese plate — caviar was never your thing and you had a sneaking suspicion rich people just pretended to like it so they could prove they can afford it.

"The one on Moala? We used to go every year but we grew tired of the travel. It takes half a day to get there by boat," Mary sighed. "We just send a check now."

One of the many people Glenn and Mary employ to run their house silently entered the room. Without interrupting the conversation, she placed a note next to Mary's chair. She glanced up and gave the girl a kind smile, and just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

"How's wedding planning going, dear?" Mary asked, ignoring the note card for the time being.

"It's going well," you replied, "it's a lot, but it's coming together."

"We can't wait to attend. I'm sure it's going to be utter perfection," she said warmly. "I'm so pleased you two found one another. You suit each other so well. From what Glenn said, before you, Joel was shaping up to be the perpetual bachelor."

"He was very focused on work and creating a successful empire. I think that kept him from dating much," you shrugged.

"Or maybe he was just waiting for the right girl to come along," Zoe winked. You grinned and felt your cheeks begin to warm.

Mary smiled and nibbled on some cheese before dabbing her lips with her napkin. "I've been around a lot longer than you girls," she said, primly spreading her napkin across her lap. "And I've seen a lot of couples come and go. What you have — what you both have — is very special. Hold on to it fiercely and never take it for granted."

You hummed and nodded, then dropped your gaze to your plate. "Thank you. We've come a long way. I feel very fortunate that we found each other."

Given the argument you had the night before, that statement never felt truer. Considering how rocky your relationship was at the start and how difficult it was for Joel to open up, you'd think he was a completely different man now. When your relationship got put to the test, like with the anonymous note and your unfortunate decision to keep it from him as long as you did, you didn't turn on each other. Instead, you came together to fight it head on.

It really was remarkable how much you both have grown.

"Oh, dear..."

You glanced up to realize Mary had checked the note that was discreetly laid next to her on the table.

"What is it?" Zoe asked.

Mary tsked and put the card face down before addressing you both. "Tammy couldn't make it today. Something unexpected came up — I do hope everything is alright. She seemed a little off last night at the country club."

You blinked rapidly, fighting to catch up without making your discomfort obvious.

"Oh, I didn't realize she was going to be joining us..." you said, hoping you sounded sincere. Zoe locked eyes with you and made a face when Mary wasn't looking.

"I asked her to join us last night. I know it was a last minute invite but I was hoping to see her before they leave in a few days," she sighed. Then she seemed to shake it off, giving you both a wide smile before standing. "No matter. Things happen. No need to wait on lunch now... follow me, girls."

You stood and sidled up next to Zoe.

"That was a close one," you said softly.

"She's like whack a mole — get rid of her once and she pops up again somewhere else."

You both dissolved into giggles, pulling Mary's attention. She gave you a curious smile but Zoe quickly waved her off.

"I was just telling her about that hilarious play you suggested."

"Oh! That's right! How did you and Trevor like it?"

The three of you sat down at the table still set for four. Zoe began to tell Mary all about some play while you only half listened.

What if Tammy had come to lunch? What would you have done? Would you have been able to stop yourself from accusing her of blackmail in front of everyone? Something told you it was very good fortune that something conveniently came up that prevented her from coming to lunch that day.

You were just finishing up your lunch — some kind of fish native to the island that you forgot the name of — when the same girl as before hurried into the room. Except that time, she didn't have a card in her hand and if you didn't know any better, appeared slightly concerned.

"Excuse me," she said softly, cutting into the conversation. The three of you paused and looked at her. When Mary waved her over with a slightly annoyed hand, you and Zoe exchanged glances.

You assumed it had something to do with the food. Maybe dessert burned or something spilled. But whatever she whispered into Mary's ear had her jumping up from her seat with a look of panic.

"Uh, excuse me, girls. I'll be right back."

She shot you a tight smile before following her housemaid out of the room, finally leaving you and Zoe to yourselves.

"That was weird," she said first. You nodded.

"Yeah. I hope everything's okay."

"I'm sure it's fine," Zoe shrugged. "It's probably Glenn on the phone or something."

You nodded slowly, figuring she was right. When you reached for another roll, she sharply swatted your hand.

"Ow!"

You glared at her and rubbed your wrist.

"I've been dying to know what's going on with the letter. We finally get five seconds to ourselves and you're not gonna spill?" She crossed her arms and she narrowed her eyes at you. "You did tell him, right?"

You sighed and leaned back. "Yeah. I told him."

Zoe heard the despair your voice and her shoulders dropped.

"Oh, no. Did he freak out?"

"Well, kind of," you admitted. Your eyes flashed towards the closed door quickly before lowering your voice. "When we got home from dinner, there was another note. But he found it before I could explain. It was... a fucking mess."

"Another note?" she repeated, eyes wide. "What'd this one say?"

You opened your mouth to answer, then caught yourself at the last second. You couldn't tell her the truth. You promised Joel. So, you came up with a quick, feeble lie.

"Uh, pretty much the same as the first one."

"Oh, wow," she breathed, seemingly buying it. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Yeah. So I came clean and told him everything. He... well, he was pissed. But he got past it and contacted his lawyers. They're already working overtime back home. I'm sure they'll figure out who it is and this will all be a distant memory soon."

"Did you tell him our theories about Scott and Tammy?"

You could hear voices echoing off the walls in the front of the house. Mary was talking with someone, but her voice was growing louder. She would be back soon, so you leaned forward.

"Yeah, but he doesn't think it's them."

"Then who?" Zoe asked, cocking her head to the side.

"He thinks it might be—"

Just then, the door opened and Mary breezed back in. Your eyes dropped to your plate, hoping to hide the guilty look on your face, so you didn't notice when a second person entered the room a moment after her.

"Oh— Brooks. Hey."

Zoe's flat tone cut right through you. The air thinned, your head went fuzzy, and for one excruciating minute, you thought you might faint.

Three pairs of eyes circulate around the room but lingered on you. You could feel it. They burned and made it hard to breathe. Mary said something but it felt like you were in a long, deep tunnel — you could hardly make out the words. Her tone sounded apologetic, then her voice raised in her son's direction, but you still couldn't look. Your gaze was fixed on your plate while you tried to collect yourself and slow your pulse, but it wasn't working. Blood was rushing in your ears and your hands were beginning to shake.

Betrayal flooded your veins when you slowly dragged your eyes up to Mary, but to your surprise, she looked rattled. She was the type of wealthy woman who carried herself with grace and confidence. She was always calm and collected. She knew the appropriate thing to wear or say or gift to give — she rarely shouted or got angry. But when you looked at her, even through the sheer panic that was taking over your entire body, you saw something unusual.

She was fucking pissed.

Her cheeks were flushed pink and her brow furrowed as she spoke to her son, who was standing at the head of the table. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Flashes of that night in the restaurant bathroom where he hurled insults and pushed you, causing you to fall into the sink, flickered behind your eyes. The cuts and bruises didn't fully heal until you returned home, a sickening reminder every time you looked in the mirror.

Your hearing began to slowly return. Mary's voice was raised and she was pointing angrily at Brooks. Next to you, Zoe reassuringly gripped your arm, silently reminding you of her unwavering support.

"—as part of your recovery, and you need to accept that!"

Mary's words filtered into your brain and you blinked.

"Considering it's the entire fucking reason I was in rehab and I'm working the program like you said, I think granting me five goddamn minutes to apologize isn't too much of an ask!"

"Nobody wants to talk to you when you're yelling, Brooks," Zoe said, voice low and threatening. You glanced in her direction — she was staring daggers at him. "Least of all somebody who's been on the receiving end of your abuse—"

Brooks scoffed and threw his hands in the air. "Abuse? Come on, isn't that a little harsh? I was fucked up, I made a mistake — you're acting like I put her in the goddamn hospital. Which, I may add," he said, raising his thick eyebrows in your direction and shifting his weight. He pointed at you and you swallowed. "I seem to remember being the only one who ended up in the hospital that night. I didn't run to the tabloids or the fucking gossip rags — hell, I didn't even call the cops. I let it go. And all I want is five minutes now to clear the air and check a box off my goddamn list so my sponsor—"

"The cops? Brooks, be serious," Mary exclaimed. "The cops weren't called because Joel agreed not to throw you in jail. They did that to us as a favor."

Brooks rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. It was hard to make it out, but it sure sounded something like bullshit... dad's land.

Mary sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are you done? We'd like to get back to lunch and enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

He whirled around and pinned you with his dark gaze. "You really aren't gonna give me five minutes?"

Your eyes darted around the room, pulse thrumming fast in your throat as you struggled to gather up the courage to speak to the man who you had hoped you never would have seen again.

"No," you finally said, and although your voice cracked, you kept talking. "You barged in here unannounced. You— you completely ignored your own mother's requests. You are talking over everyone a-and your temper is still out of control." You dragged in a deep breath before continuing. "I think you need to understand that sometimes things don't go your way. This is one of those times."

Brooks stared at you, stunned and slack jawed. He blinked slowly as if he were processing your little speech, then finally broke the silence and cleared his throat.

"You seriously think I'm gonna hurt you again or something?"

You shook your head. "No, I don't think you're going to hurt me. But I do think you need to get used to hearing the word no. Yelling and trying to force others to give in to what you want is not how you treat people. I thought your program would have taught you that."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Mary cut him off.

"No means no, Brooks."

You could feel the frustration radiating off him from across the room. He knew he wasn't going to get his way and he would need to leave with his tail tucked between his legs. What he said next was most likely just a way for him to save face. He was embarrassed and out of his depth. And if you hadn't already gotten two vaguely threatening notes that required Joel's lawyers to work overtime back in California, you wouldn't have thought twice about it. Yet...

"This is a mistake. You know it's a mistake. Sitting there acting like you and your fiancé are perfect? Like you don't make stupid mistakes, too?"

You forgot how to breathe for a second but you kept your composure. Brooks raked his fingers through his black hair and whirled around, making to leave. But before he did, he turned towards you once more.

"You'll wish you gave me a chance one day. I promise you that."

Then he was gone.

Zoe glanced briefly in your direction before dropping her gaze to her lap. She must have picked up on the same thing as you. Stupid mistakes? Ominously implying something bad would happen now that you didn't give him the time of day?

Fuck, maybe Joel was right. Maybe Brooks was behind the letters.

"He did what?"

"You promised you wouldn't get mad!" you reminded him, but you knew it was a lost cause as you watched Joel pace around the patio, still dressed in his work clothes. He aggressively loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Even from across the pool you could see the red creeping up his neck.

You could practically see the gears in his head turning. His eyes shifted around wildly, avoiding you even when he turned to stalk back in your direction. His shoulders were pulled tight under his white dress shirt and his fists clenched repeatedly at his sides while he struggled to process everything you told him about your eventful afternoon.

"I can't fuckin' believe this," he muttered angrily. You let him pace back and forth — it seemed to help burn off his excess energy.

"Nothing happened," you repeated, "Mary and Zoe were there the whole time. He didn't do anything."

"We said no when he first asked to talk to you. I said no," he growled. "Who the fuck do they think they are? Ho-how could they think—"

"It wasn't Mary's fault," you said defensively. Joel stopped pacing and finally looked at you. His jaw looked so tense that it had you worried he'd crack a tooth. "She tried to get rid of him. She stood up for me. It- it wasn't an ambush. She really did seem just as pissed off as me."

He still looked angry but you could tell his eyes softened just a bit. You took a step forward and held out your arms. Joel's gaze dropped. His stubborn streak kicked in and he remained planted in the same spot a few feet away.

"Come on," you said softly. He shifted his weight but stayed put. You sighed and wiggled your fingers. "Joel? Let's not let this ruin our night, okay?"

His shoulders sagged and he dragged his gaze back up to meet yours. His skin looked less flushed now, leaving behind the gorgeous tropical tan he had managed to get within two days of arriving. You smiled and tilted your head to the side.

"I have an idea," you said, voice dropping an octave. It was like you were watching the rage leave his body with each passing second. His fists relaxed, his breathing returned to normal, and his frown finally smoothed out.

"What?" he asked gruffly, taking one step forward. You did the same and reached for his hands.

"Why don't we get you out of these stuffy clothes," you said, pulling him forward. He rolled his eyes but still wrapped his arms around your waist. You plucked at the stiff white button down before looking up at him. "Then I can make you a drink and rub your shoulders. Wouldn't that feel nice?"

Joel hummed at your soothing tone and lifted his gaze to look somewhere behind you. "Then what?"

You grinned and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Well... then we have to leave or else we'll be late for dinner."

Joel slid his eyes shut with a groan. "Shit," he mumbled when he remembered your dinner plans with your parents.

"Sorry," you whispered as you worked on the fourth button. "But we can pick up where we left off later."

He exhaled and dropped his arms to his sides so you could untuck his shirt from his slacks. He studied your face for a moment while your attention was elsewhere, examining you closely before asking, "You sure you're alright?"

You nodded and gave him a bright smile. "I'm positive."

"I shoulda been there," he said, "I don't want you dealin' with him on your own."

"I wasn't alone. Zoe was there."

"Y'know what I mean."

You shrugged and took him by the hand as you began to lead him back into the villa.

"As much as I love it, you won't always be there to be my knight in shining armor, Joel."

"The hell I can't," he grumbled behind you.

You stepped back inside the cool air conditioning of your bedroom and laughed over your shoulder.

"That's very sweet, but it's impossible."

You dropped his hand to wander towards your closet when he suddenly reached out and spun you back around to face him.

"I wasn't there the first time," he said solemnly. The playful smile instantly faded from your face when you realized just how serious he was all of the sudden. "I couldn't protect you then and... and now, it could've happened again."

"But it didn't," you reminded him. He shook his head.

"But it could've," he repeated. His gaze darted between your eyes and you could see the anguish he had been trying to hide behind rage. It pulled at your heart. It made you want to wrap your arms around him and make it all go away. "Promise me if he ever shows up again that you'll call me."

"Joel—" you sighed, but he cut you off.

"Please. Just — promise me."

It wasn't worth the fight. You nodded in agreement and his shoulders instantly relaxed.

"Good. Thank you."

"I can take care of myself, you know," you said, only half teasing. He grinned and slid his palm firmly down your back, stopping only when he reached your ass. He gave it a squeeze, rocking you forward onto your tiptoes and making you inhale sharply.

"I know you can," he said lowly. His breath against your ear sent a shiver down your spine. "But we both like it better when I take care of you."

Before you had a chance to respond, he let you go and disappeared into the closet, leaving you alone to catch your breath.

"He did say something strange though," you eventually called out after him. Joel reappeared holding a fresh, more casual shirt in his hand.

"What?"

You swallowed, hands fidgeting at your sides when you said, "He accused us of acting like we're perfect and... and he said something about us making bad mistakes." Joel's face fell and you quickly shook your head. "It's probably nothing. It sounded like he was just deflecting, like he's annoyed that he's the only one who has issues worth mentioning. But, you know, I— I just wanted to tell you. In case."

He nodded slowly and let his gaze drop to the floor. You pursed your lips and waited while he thought things over. It was a difficult situation to navigate — on one hand, you didn't want to stress him out even more. But on the other, you didn't want to keep anything from him again.

"My gut still says it's him," Joel finally said. You remained silent. "Why else would he push so hard to see you? He's gotta be tryin' to find a way to get you alone and make demands."

"He said he was working a program—"

"Bullshit," Joel scoffed. He leaned against the wall and thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "He's too chickenshit to come to me directly so he's tryin' to get to you. Tryin' to scare you again so we pay whatever he wants."

"Maybe," was all you offered. Something just didn't feel right about it though. Your instincts were telling you it wasn't Brooks, but you just didn't have enough to back it up.

Joel sighed and pulled out his phone. "Lemme talk to the lawyers, see what they got." Then his eyes met yours and he nodded towards the closet. "Get yourself ready for dinner. Won't take me long."

He strolled out into the living room, button down open and still clutching his new shirt, leaving you to freshen up by yourself.

You were trying really hard to not let the notes ruin what was supposed to be a fun and exciting trip, but it was becoming more difficult to ignore with each passing day.

"Joel seems distracted. Is everything okay?" your mom asked. You sighed and glanced over your shoulder. You couldn't see him, but you could imagine him pacing around the lobby of The Parador.

Earlier, Joel had been glued to his phone the entire car ride to the restaurant. He managed only one decent conversation over a drink and an appetizer before his phone started to light up with notifications and then he had stepped away right after your main course arrived to take a phone call. By the time he came back, you were sure his dinner must have been cold, but he didn't seem to care. His mind was elsewhere, and even though he tried to be polite and engaging throughout the rest of the meal, it was obvious to everyone that something was going on.

"Yeah, I think it must be work," you lied, giving your mom a tight smile. "It's really stressful for him. Opening this hotel has been his dream for so long, he just wants everything to be perfect."

And perfect, it was. You led them through the gorgeous, impeccably kept courtyard filled with guests slowly filtering towards the beach where a fire pit surrounded by cabanas and temporary seating waited.

After dark once a week, native Fijians put on a Meke performance at the hotel, something you helped organize months ago. It was a beautiful and important part of Fijian culture where song and dance tell stories about love, legends, spirits, and the history of the island. You thought your parents would appreciate seeing it while they were there so you invited them to come by after dinner.

Unfortunately, Joel had to take yet another call, so it was just the three of you until he could catch up.

"Busy man," your father murmured. Then you watched him look around the outside of the hotel, at the pools and at the waterfall bubbling peacefully in the distance, everything perfectly lit in a soft glow and looking like an absolute paradise.

"But I suppose I can see why. Lot of hard work went into this place. It's... it's stunning, honey. You did a great job."

Your dad gave you a soft smile and squeezed your shoulder affectionately. You thanked him and tried to not let yourself get too excited, but your parents really seemed more at ease that night. It was a relief to see them finally relax a little and be more accepting of your new life.

"I'll admit, I wasn't sure what to think about the abrupt career change, but I can see you have a knack for this," your mom added, looping her arm through yours. "Just maybe build the next one not so far away."

You giggled and nodded before ushering them towards a cabana permanently reserved for Joel and his guests. It offered a little privacy from the rest of the crowd while also giving you a good view of the performers.

Almost immediately, a worker rushed over with a huge smile and an iPad tucked dutifully under her arm.

"Welcome! I hope you had a lovely day," she said as you settled into your seats.

"Oh, yes, we did. Thank you," your mother replied. She adjusted the skirt of her dress and you watched her eyes briefly dance around the beach. She seemed eager and excited by the atmosphere and it made your chest burst with pride.

"Wonderful! Is there anything I can get you? Any drinks or perhaps a small plate to share?"

"Nothing for me, just wa—"

Your father stopped talking mid-sentence when a young man appeared out of thin air with two tall glass bottles of chilled sparkling water and four empty glasses. Your dad grinned and tossed his hands in the air.

"Got a million bucks, too?" he joked when the other worker expertly poured the waters without spilling a drop and silently placed them next to each chair.

You shared a laugh and dismissed them after expressing your gratitude, then settled in for the performance.

"Oh! Did I tell you James is getting a divorce?" your mother asked. You shook your head.

"Our neighbor, James?" you clarified. She nodded.

"Turns out the girl cheated on him while he was away for basic training. Can you believe such things?" She tsked under her breath and sighed dramatically. "He's moving back home with his parents, so he'll be next door again. I know you used to be close — maybe next time you visit you can catch up."

"Uh, yeah. Maybe," you shrugged.

"I think he always had a thing for you," your dad chimed in. You raised an eyebrow in his direction but he kept his gaze fixed on the dancers setting up.

"No, Dad. James didn't have a thing for me. I was the one madly in love with him for two years. He just led me on and it broke my heart," you reminded them pointedly. Your dad frowned and looked at you in surprise.

"Is that what happened?"

You nodded and gave him a look like he was crazy.

"Well, seems like a good man now. Military man."

You rolled your eyes and leaned back into your chair, scanning the crowd in the hopes of catching sight of Joel.

"You were both so young," your mother said, rubbing your arm with an air of comfort. "Kids do foolish things at that age. You've both grown and matured so much since then. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, I'll keep that in mind," you muttered.

A beat of silence passed as you watched a group of children push their way to the front of the crowd so they could sit cross-legged in the sand, right up close.

"Is Joel joining us?"

She didn't mean anything by the question but it irked you that your mother asked about Joel, the man you were going to marry, hot on the heels of bringing up a boy from your past. You shook it off, telling yourself you were overreacting and just on edge from the drama of the past few days.

"I think so. He—"

You trailed off when you glanced down at your phone. A missed text from Joel lit up your screen. You slid the notification open and your face fell.

"Oh. He had to go back to the room," you said, voice dropping sadly as you read the message. "Something urgent came up."

"Do you have to leave?" your mom asked.

You shook your head and locked your phone. "No. He said to enjoy the show and he apologized. Said he would see you tomorrow."

Behind your back, your parents exchanged looks, then the tribal drums began to beat, pulling everybody's focus to the beach.

You tried to enjoy the performance, but you were far too preoccupied. Joel never would have abandoned you like that unless it was for a good reason, but it still ate away at you. By the end of the evening, you couldn't get your parents into a car and back to their hotel fast enough. All you could assume was Joel figured out who was behind the notes. You were desperate to finally put an end to this disturbing chapter of your trip and — something you didn't think you would ever wish for — get back to wedding planning.

You didn't bother to text Joel and let him know you were on your way back up to the room. You wanted answers and your mind was running a mile a minute.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you hurried down the empty hallway towards your room.

"Joel?" you called out before the door was even shut behind you. Your heels clicked on the tile in the foyer, dress bunched up in your fist as you walked. He didn't hear you at first, but you heard his voice murmuring somewhere deeper in the room. Had he been on the phone the entire evening?

"Joel? Where—"

You stopped dead in your tracks when you stepped into the dining area to find Joel sitting across from a bald older man with a white beard you didn't recognize. Joel had a whiskey in front of him, the man had a glass of still water, seemingly untouched. They both stopped talking when you entered the room and glanced up at you.

"Hey," Joel said, quickly standing to cross the room. He leaned down and pecked your cheek, and when he got closer you could see how tired he really was. His hair looked like he had run his fingers through it countless times and there were bags under his eyes.

"Wh-what's going on?" you stammered, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the older man. He slid his glasses off and stood, hands clasped at his front and back perfectly straight. Joel turned and extended an arm towards his guest.

"This is Mark. Mark Driscoll," he said. "He's a private investigator. He's been in touch with our lawyers and he's agreed to help us out."

"Oh," you breathed, hesitating only a second before you shook the hand he offered you. "Nice to meet you. I— I didn't realize you hired..."

You trailed off, suddenly too tired to keep up.

"Mr. Driscoll comes highly recommended. He's discreet and has an excellent success rate. He also happened to be in Auckland wrappin' up some business and was nice enough to rearrange his plans for us," Joel explained with a comforting hand on your back.

"Pleased to meet you."

His voice was deeper than you expected but he paired it with a warm smile intended to put you at ease. You tried to return it but you must have failed because the two men exchanged glances and Mark went to gather his things from the table.

"It's late. I'll get out of your hair," he said once he tucked his briefcase under his arm. "I think we reached a good stopping point anyway. I'll be in touch."

Joel thanked him and Mark shook your hand again after wishing you good night. You mumbled a similar response and sunk down into one of the dining room chairs while Joel walked him out.

"You alright?"

Joel reappeared, startling you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah," you said numbly. "It just feels so serious all of the sudden."

He sighed and pulled a chair in front of you so he could hold your hands and study your face.

"It is serious, darlin'," he told you softly. Your head began to ache, a dull throb pulsing steadily right between your eyes. You squeezed his hands and dropped your gaze to the floor.

"I know. It could ruin your reputation, you could lose business—"

"No," he replied firmly, ducking his head to catch your eye. "I don't care 'bout any of that. I just care 'bout you. Us. I don't want this causin' you any stress. I don't want you to have to explain this to your family one day. I just — I want you to be okay. Fuck the rest of it."

The thought of your parents finding out the truth of how you met Joel crushed you. It would surely ruin any progress you made, and just when things finally felt like they were turning around. A tear fell unwillingly down your cheek and Joel gently wiped it away.

"C'mon. You're tired. Let's get you to bed."

You nodded and let him lead you into your bedroom, where you slipped off your shoes and gathered your pajamas. Joel watched you carefully. He could tell how fragile you felt and wanted to fix it, but didn't know how.

"Joel?" you said quietly once you were washed up and under the covers, your voice sounding so small in the dark room.

"Yeah?"

You turned onto your side to face him. "Tell me everything's going to be okay."

He reached for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest. His lips brushed against your forehead and you closed your eyes.

"Everything's gonna be okay."

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[bittertasteofhoney]

Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 9

Some, And Now None of You

Summary: Joel lets his insecurities determine the next step in your relationship, hurting you in a way no one else has.

|| angst, jackson!joel,  jackson!joel x f!reader, age gap (but legal!), reader is afab, joel really is an asshole in this one ||

Notes: This is definitely one of my shorter chapters because it honestly hurt to write. I’M SO SORRY! But to apologize, I will be posting the next chapter super soon. Please don't hate me too much. <3 I promise this fic will be happy again.

Previous Chapter.

For days, Joel struggled to breach this knot in his stomach. It grew so considerably that even seeing your smile briefly wouldn’t untie it. Every whisper in town, every sideways glance and stare felt like lightning through his veins, and he was almost at his limit. 

He knew people were talking, and he felt insecure for the first time in his life that was already filled with twisted bumps and curves in the road. And it wasn’t even your fault. But he saw how people reacted when you were in the same room together. People talked no matter how private the two of you tried to keep it. You could be in the kitchens helping stock the prep stations. He could be on the opposite end eating with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, and the room would be filled with hushed whispers.

It began to fracture the two of you’s loose concept of a relationship. You were in your head with your own insecurities, and he was worried about how it was affecting you. Were you regretting this entire thing? Should he have followed you home that night?

But then he would remember the look on your face moments before coming. Your smile when he would comb his fingers through your hair as you sat on the patio between his legs. Your happy humming when cooking. The feeling of you snuggling into his side each night. And it would gut him.

How could all that happiness still be why your lips were always slightly downturned? He wanted to run through town and tell everyone to keep their mouths shut and he was half-tempted. But they would only talk more. 

After a few days of this internal back-and-forth, he finally sat Ellie down in the kitchen, asking her advice, fully aware that he was going to a child for relationship help. However, he didn’t feel comfortable going to Tommy just yet, and Maria would hit him with a hard-as-stone glare for hurting you to any degree, no matter how indirect. 

They were sitting at the kitchen table with two bowls of his infamous chili between them and Ellie shoveling spoonfuls in quick succession into her mouth. 

“Ellie! Slow down for god’s sake.”

She mumbled something about him minding his own business, and he just shook his head in response and continued to eat his own dinner. A few moments later, he broached the subject. 

“So, uh, I wanted to pick your brain about something.” He nervously scratched his head. “Actually, I need some advice.” 

Her spoon paused halfway between the bowl and her mouth. “Advice? From me? Joel, I’m fifteen.”

He shook his head again in annoyance. “I know. I just-I don’t know what to do and I figured. You’d at least have an open mind.” 

She dropped her spoon and leaned forward, twirling her hands in a get-on-with-it gesture. 

He took a deep breath before continuing. “People around town have been talking and, it’s starting to cause some tension.”

“Between you and Sunshine?” He nodded again.

“I guess people are talkin’ shit and she heard it. She’s been in her head for a while now and I can’t tell if she’s happy anymore. And I don’t know what to do because ultimately, this is my fault.”

Ellie nodded. “It is.” He shot her a look, and she threw up her hands. “What? I’m just agreeing with you. Look, I’ve heard some of what people are saying and it’s not cool. You kind of made her look like a fool.”

“Because we-” He was twirling his hands around, trying to communicate your relationship with awkward swipes through the air. Ellie held up a hand to cut him off. 

“Because you’re fucking”

“Ellie!” 

“Sorry! I mean, it’s true! I’m not stupid. I know why you spend the night at her place.” Joel just blushed. “This is all happening because you were an ass to her when we first got here. Not everyone knows how charming your personality truly is.” She smiled at him mockingly. 

“So, what do I do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to her? I’m no relationship guru but I at least know you have to communicate.”

He sat there, staring at his chili. “I’m thinkin’...I’m thinkin’ I let her go. She looks so sad and I can’t keep being the reason.” He looked up, nervous to see what new lens he just placed over Ellie’s eyes. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. I think she really likes you.”

“I really like her too. More than like, I think. But she deserves better.” His voice was gruff, already drenched in his regret. 

Ellie just shook her head and returned to eating, unable to look at him. Even she couldn’t stand what he was about to do.

After dinner, he fell back into his regular routine of walking to your house, but this time, his steps were much slower. He’d already made up his mind, and every step to your front door dragged, his decision weighing him down. 

When he got to the door, he knocked in three slow taps. He heard your footfalls inside and looked at his feet when you opened the door. You wore a confused look on your face. Usually, he walked right in if you were home. 

He looked up and saw you standing in a sundress. That sundress. He took a shuddering breath and looked back down at his feet.

“Look, we need to talk.” You leaned on the door frame, wondering why he wouldn’t meet your eye. 

“Why aren’t you coming inside?” 

Another breath. He felt like he couldn’t let in enough air for this conversation. His eyes were still glued to his boots.

“I’m not coming in.”

“Joel.” He studied the stitching around his soles. “Joel. Look at me.” Your honeyed voice tempted him. He just wanted to walk inside and carry you straight to your porch. He could play his guitar while you read your latest paperback find. 

He shook his head again. He see the look on your face. “I think we should take a pause on…whatever this is.” He could almost feel you stop breathing. “Go back to being neighbors. We kind of skipped the whole friend part and…I think we should just put this behind us.”

“Why?! Where is this coming from?!” You stepped forward, but he kept his eyes pinned to the ground. 

“It’s been on my mind for a while.” You took another step, and he froze. He didn’t want to say his next line. It was like a horrible movie that he couldn’t hit pause on even though he wrote the script. “I just don’t see this going anywhere.”

“Going anywhere? We live in a world where we could be killed at any instant. I didn’t realize we were on the path to marriage. I thought we were just enjoying time with each other.” 

A beat passed between the two of you. “Joel, look at me.” Finally, he lifted his gaze to yours, which was shining with tears. God, you looked so tired. “Why are you doing this?”

He forced himself to shrug. And to continue to lie. “It’s the age thing. You’re too young for me. It feels dirty.” He forced himself to keep looking at you. “We pushed this too far and it shouldn’t have happened.” A short exhalation. “It was a mistake.”  The spark officially extinguished from your eyes. Little Miss Sunshine had no light anymore.

Tag List :) @silksepia @hello-nah817 @longlivetheloneliness @keseqna @millers-girl @treacherqus @lemonboi @spnfic85 @secretlettersfromyourlove @nosebeers @boscogirlsworld

[fic-girlie]

Is it possible to have a fic with Joel Miller with Y/n being his youngest daughter? She was four when Sarah died and got accidentally separated from her family during the chaos, only to be picked up and trained by an adult man who is this old military dude.

He does have a soft spot for her, but he ain't acting on it. His reason for saving her was selfish. He's this relentlessly strict trainer, not allowing his adopted daughter to take breaks and yelling at her during the training sessions to not yield or falter.

Because of this, Y/n turned out to be cold, calculating, self-aware, quick-witted, and withdrawn. Y/n doesn't pretend to be anything. She's a selfish person. She has no political beliefs and never will. Right now, her only concern is returning to her military dad. She may be absent for days at a time because she works odd jobs for a living.

When she meets Joel again, it's during a mission that pays well. Joel and Ellie happens to be in the way of that, although she dosen’t remember her real pops, she does hesitate because he seems familiar.

Ashes between us

Pairing: dad!Joel Miller x daughter!reader (father-daughter realtionship) Summary: You were lost in the chaos. Years later, hardened and unrecognizable, you cross paths with the man who once called you his daughter. Warnings: reader being cold towards Joel, sadness

You pick your way through the skeletal remains of the town, eyes sharp behind the cracked lenses of your goggles. The cold is bitter but doesn’t touch the part of you that’s been frozen for years. The wind carries dust and ash, smells of burnt wood and rust, memories you’d rather keep buried. Your boots make little sound on the broken concrete, but your every sense is tuned to the slightest shift in the air.

Money is scarce. Work even scarcer. But there’s a contract in your pocket now, one that might finally cover a few weeks of food and ammo, maybe even let you skip town for a while. You don’t think in terms of “home” anymore — only survival, and the next job.

You tuck the rifle closer and scan the cracked storefronts. Everything looks abandoned, but you know better. The world is full of ghosts, some with guns, some worse.

Ahead, two figures move carefully — a man, stocky and rough, with eyes like old leather, and a girl no older than fifteen trailing close behind, her gaze darting like a wild animal’s.

Your breath catches, not from fear, but something else. Something ancient, buried beneath years of training and numbness.

You freeze, muscles taut, every instinct screaming to stay hidden.

But then their eyes meet yours — the man’s gaze piercing, holding a familiarity that unsettles you.

“Kid,” he says quietly, voice rough with disbelief.

You don’t recognize the word as a name, and the chill in your gut twists deeper.

You hold your ground, though your heart drums against your ribs like a warning bell. You don’t belong here, not anymore. Not with him.

He steps forward cautiously, arms open in an offering, or maybe just a plea.

“You’re—” he starts, then falters. “You’re mine.”

Your laugh is dry and bitter, cutting through the cold air. “I’m nobody’s.”

Ellie’s eyes flash, tense and uncertain, gripping her bow tighter. The girl is wary, like a shield waiting to strike.

The man — Joel — looks torn in a way that twists your insides. Like he’s fighting between holding on and letting go.

You remember a time before the fire, before the chaos that stole your childhood. You remember a man who held you close, told you stories about the stars, promised to protect you. But those memories are fragile, like shards of glass you don’t want to touch.

Instead, you look away.

“I’m here for the job,” you say flatly. “Nothing more.”

Joel’s gaze lingers, searching your face as if looking for a clue you don’t have to give.

He speaks low, the gravel in his voice rough and honest. “You don’t remember?”

You don’t answer. Because the truth is — you don’t know. Not really.

You only know the man who raised you now, the one who drilled discipline into you with cold, merciless hands. The one who taught you to shut down every flicker of weakness.

The man who called you his daughter, but never let you rest.

You think of the endless drills, the shouting, the pushing until your body begged for mercy and your mind refused to break.

That life made you sharp. Made you quick. Made you dangerous.

But it also made you distant. Cold.

And selfish.

Because in a world that tore you apart, you learned the hard way: You look out for yourself, or you don’t survive.

Joel steps closer. His eyes soften for a moment — a flicker of the man who loved you once.

“I lost you in the fire,” he says quietly. “I thought you were gone forever.”

A scar runs deep beneath your skin — a wound you thought had healed.

But it bleeds open now.

You take a breath, steadying the rush of emotions you refuse to show.

“I survived.”

Ellie watches silently, her eyes full of questions she doesn’t ask.

Joel nods, eyes glistening with something fierce and raw.

“Let’s talk,” he says.

You hesitate, then nod.

Because despite the armour you wear, despite the cold shield around your heart, there’s a part of you that’s still a little girl — scared, lost, and searching.

You follow Joel and Ellie to a crumbling building with cracked windows and graffiti bleeding down the walls. Inside, the air is stale and thick with dust, but it’s quiet — a rare commodity in this broken world.

Joel sets down his pack and lights a small fire with practiced hands. The flickering flames cast shadows across his rugged face, revealing lines etched by years of grief and survival.

Ellie pulls out a worn pack of crackers and offers you one without a word. You take it silently, your fingers brushing hers — a small touch that sets off a spark you don’t dare acknowledge.

The fire crackles between you, the silence heavy and fragile.

Joel finally breaks it.

“You’re older than I thought,” he says, voice rough but gentle.

You shrug. “I’ve been busy.”

Joel studies you for a long moment, then nods slowly.

“Military type?” he guesses.

You don’t answer immediately. Truth is, the man who raised you wasn’t military exactly — more a ghost from a forgotten war, a strict, unyielding mentor who moulded you in fire and discipline. But “military” is close enough.

“Something like that,” you say.

Joel lets it go.

Ellie watches you both with quiet intensity.

The room shrinks around the three of you, the distance measured in years and unspoken words.

You remember the man who found you in the chaos — the strict trainer who never let you stop, never let you feel safe.

You remember the pain of losing your family, the anger that burned behind your eyes.

You remember the cold, calculating version of yourself that emerged from the ashes.

Joel’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he says.

You laugh bitterly.

“Alone is safer.”

Joel’s eyes harden with understanding and regret.

“Maybe,” he says. “But maybe not.”

Ellie shifts beside him, her presence a reminder of the world beyond pain and loss.

You stare into the fire, the flames reflecting the storm inside.

You want to run — back to the life you know, the cold discipline, the distance.

But a small voice whispers beneath the ice:

Maybe you don’t have to.

[sweetlovepascal-deactivated2025]

cold hands, warm joel

pairings joel miller x reader

summary you forgot your gloves on the coldest patrol of the season. so joel takes your hands in his, warming them with his breath and calloused fingers.

tags established relationship, unspecified agegap, gentle intimacy, protective!joel, soft!joel, hurt/comfort, acts of service, jackson era, soft angst, fluff with feelings.

masterlist

the wind had teeth that day, biting through layers of your clothing like it had something personal against you.

snow drifted lazily from the overcast sky, and your fingers had long stopped tingling. they’d gone past cold into numb.

you rode slightly behind joel, the two of you keeping a steady pace along the north perimeter, heads ducked against the chill. your horse snorted against the cold, hooves crunching over packed snow.

no trees, no cover, just endless white and wind.

the gloves. you’d forgotten them.

you didn’t realize how bad your hands had gotten until it was too late.

your gloves were back at home. left on the kitchen table in the early-morning rush.

you’d thought the coat pockets would be enough. they weren’t.

you shifted in the saddle, trying to hide the way your fingers trembled.

you’d been flexing them, squeezing them into fists, tucking them under your arms for warmth when you could. but the cold had sunk in deep, and they were stiff.

but joel noticed.

he always did.

he turned in the saddle, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“you good back there?”

you nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. “fine.”

“don't lie to me,” joel said, clearly unconvinced. his eyes narrowed slightly, watching how you held the reins in a strange, awkward grip.too tight, too stiff.

“you’re not wearin’ your gloves.”

you hesitated.

you sighed, caught. “left them. was in a rush.”

joel slowed his horse until you were side by side. he didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at you.

long enough that it made your stomach twist.

joel let out a breath that sounded more like a growl.

“why didn’t you say somethin’?”

you shrugged, not looking at him. “didn’t want to slow us down.”

there was a beat of silence behind you, then the horse came to a halt. you turned your head in confusion.

“joel—”

before you could finish, he was already climbing down from the saddle. you blinked as he reached up to help you down too, his hands warm against your waist.

“let me see your hands.”

“joel, it’s fine—”

“now.”

reluctantly, you pulled one hand free and offered it. he took it immediately, and you winced as his warm fingers wrapped around your cold ones.

“goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, he said softly, running his thumbs over your knuckles, his brows drawing together.

“they’re like ice. jesus, it’s fifteen degrees out here.”

“i’m fine,” you tried, but your voice betrayed you with a tremble.

he didn’t say anything, just grumbled under his breath—something about “damn stubborn woman” and “gonna be the death of me”—while cradling both your hands between his.

he brought them up close to his face and blew gently into the space between your palms, again and again.

warm air, rough hands, and a quiet intensity you knew too well.

“here.”

you frowned. “joel, i can’t—”

his jaw flexed. “don’t argue. not about this.”

“take ’em,” he said firmly, already reaching for your hands.

“you can’t feel your damn fingers.”

he gently took your frozen hands in his warm ones and began slipping his gloves over your fingers.

one hand at a time, careful, like you might break.

the gloves were still hot from his body heat. it made your throat tighten.

“you’re shaking,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“i know.”

once your hands were covered, joel reached up, thumb brushing against your cheek. “you should’ve told me.”

“didn’t want you to lecture me.”

“well, too late for that.”

his arms wrapped around you fully now and you didn’t protest. you let yourself lean back into him, let your cold cheek rest against the warmth of his shoulder.

“next time,” he muttered, lips brushing your ear, “you forget your gloves, you tell me before we leave.”

“okay,” you whispered.

“or i’ll turn us around and drag your ass home.”

“you don’t get to freeze on my watch. not happenin’.”

you smiled, a little.

he gave you a look. “i care about you.”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to.

"let's go home right now, sweetheart."

the cold had settled into your bones. joel kept glancing at you the whole way back, and when you finally got inside your shared place, he practically manhandled you onto the couch.

“you’re getting under the blanket,” he ordered, tossing the threadbare quilt from the back of the couch over your legs.

“and you’re not movin’ until you’re warm.”

you smirked, but said nothing, too tired and chilled to argue.

joel disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two mugs of tea, setting one in front of you before sitting down beside you.

then he tugged you closer.

“c’mere,” he said, dragging your hands under the blanket and into the front pocket of his hoodie. “there. better?”

your hands slid easily into the soft warmth of the fabric and the heat of his stomach beneath it.

you nodded, leaning against him. “yeah. better.”

his arm came around your shoulders, fingers tracing idle circles against your arm.

“you gotta take better care of yourself,” he said again, voice quiet now, more tired than angry.

you turned your face up to him, smirking.

“that’s your job now, isn’t it?”

he raised a brow, something fond tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“damn right it is.”

[littlejoels-deactivated20260202]

request: Hi lovely person ! Could I request an angst to fluff piece with Joel miller? So I was thinking.. we always see Dbf! Joel smut, but I would really like something angsty with that trope. Maybe something along the lines of the reader and Joel being together in secret because you know being scared of judgment because of the age gap and stuff and not the father finding out. But then there's this woman, more to Joel's age coming into the picture, making reader insecure thinking she's not enough and too young and naive but in the end all turns out good? I'm a sucker for angst loll" word count: 1,2k warnings: cursing!

you were supposed to be past this by now. the self-doubt. the little pinpricks of anxiety you never used to feel before joel. the kind that bloom right in your chest; it hadn’t always been this bad. at the start, it had been electric—hiding, sneaking, the way his hands used to shake the first time he touched you like he couldn’t believe what he was doing. what you were letting him do.

but that was when it was new. now it’s just uncertain.

you came home early. you tell yourself you’re doing it to surprise him, but deep down, it’s selfish. you missed him, wanted to see him and hear that voice all rough and possessive. you were gonna kiss his neck and make him groan like he always does when you wrap your arms around his middle from behind.

but, once you get there, the front door’s already open. maybe he forgot to close it all the way? no way not joel.

within that small moment of you questioning why the door was open, you hear his sweet laugh and a woman’s voice.

you freeze in the entryway, sneakers still on, keys tight in your hand. you see them before they see you.

he was in the kitchen, leaning on the island like he lives here. it’s an image you always love—him comfortable in your house. like it’s his too. but next to him is her. she’s got one elbow on the counter, her whole body tilted toward him, her legs crossed while she’s laughing at something he just said, flipping her shiny brown hair off her shoulder with practiced ease.

your throat goes dry seeing him grin widely at her..he was yours for fucks sake.

your feet move before your brain decides where to go. you make a little too much noise, keys clattering on the hallway table, and the door clicks harder behind you than it should. you know you should smile. a joke, maybe? just say something.

joel turns around fast at the sound.

“hey, baby,” he says, but it’s careful, like he’s trying to read your mood before you’ve even said a word. he straightens up, steps away from the island.

the woman turns to you too. she’s prettier up close, older too. just right..like if he wasn’t with you, she’d be the natural fit. not your frayed little heart that’s too young to have any right wanting something this serious.

“hi,” you say, and it’s clipped and fake.

you try not to look at him. because you know if you do, it’ll all show. how suddenly, irrationally fucking insane your brain’s gotten.

joel must see it anyway, because his eyes narrow, not angry. just—watching, somewhat worried. the older woman pushes off the counter, smoothly. “i should head out,” she says, glancing at joel. “thanks for the help. you’re a lifesaver.”

joel nods, kind of tight-lipped now. “no problem. let me know if it doesn’t start again.” she smiles at you on the way past. you can’t bring yourself to return it. your face feels frozen in place.

joel waits until the door clicks behind her before he speaks.

“you good?” you’re still standing by the entryway, arms crossed like you were cold.

“who was that?” you ask, and it comes out cooler than you meant.

he runs a hand through his hair, sighs, steps toward you, rushing out the words. “her name’s elena. neighbor’s cousin. she’s in town for a bit; had some car trouble.”

you blink at his simple explanation. “oh.”

he studies you. “okay darlin', what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

you almost laugh—but it’s bitter and sharp in your throat.

you walk past him toward the living room, not sure what you’re doing. you feel stupid, childish, pathetic. and still—you can’t stop. it’s gnawing at you. inside your chest, inside your bones.

you don’t sit down, just turn to face him.

“nothing. just…she’s pretty and normal. and probably not some big secret.”

he flinches. “what the hell does that mean?”

you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. “you know what it means. i’m the one you sneak around with. the one you don’t talk about. and then i walk in and you’re laughing with her like..like you’re not ashamed to be seen with her.”

his jaw works, tightens, then softens again.

“ashamed?” he echoes, incredulous. “is that what you think this is?”

you don’t answer. you just keep going because now that you’ve started it, it’s like you can’t stop. every thought you’ve shoved down in the last few months starts rising like bile in your throat.

“sometimes i just wonder how long this’ll last, you know? how long before you realize i’m too much or not enough. that this is all some dumb phase and you’re just waiting for a reason to bail. like maybe you wake up one day and look at me and wonder what the fuck you’re doing wasting time with some girl barely out of college who still calls her dad to ask how to fix her tires.”

joel walks to you, leans over you in an endearing manner. “hey..hey..look at me.”

you don’t want to. your eyes are wet and you feel like an idiot. but he cups your face in both hands, rough thumbs brushing your cheeks, and you have no choice.

he leans down, rests his forehead against yours.

“i love you,” he says. “i’m not goin’ anywhere. and don’t you ever—ever—talk about yourself like that again.”

your lip trembles as his grip tightens.

“you think i don’t wish i could take you everywhere? shout it from the rooftops that you’re mine? i do, baby. every fuckin’ day. i just…” he sighs, jaw clenching again. “i worry, alright? i know how people see me. old enough to know better. and you? you’re this bright, gotdamn beautiful thing, and i don’t wanna drag you down into all my mess.”

you shake your head, fast, angry now. “you don’t get to decide that for me, joel.”

he smiles fondly, even with the tension thick between you.

“i know. you keep remindin’ me. but this? this ain’t a fling. you’re not some secret i’m ashamed of. you’re the best thing in my life, i swear.”

you swallow. “then why does it feel like you’re always waiting for it to fall apart?”

he pulls you in—both arms around you, holding you so tight it aches. his lips press to your hair.

“’cause i don’t deserve you. but i’m selfish enough to keep you anyway.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in his chest.

his voice rumbles in your ear. “you’re not too young. you’re not too much. you’re not anything but exactly what i want. every second. every day.”

you’re quiet a long time. his hand strokes your back comforting you.

“you smiled at her,” you whisper. “like it was easy to do.”

he leans back, just enough to look at you. “and you smile at bartenders when they spell your name right on your smoothies. doesn’t mean you wanna fuck ‘em.”

you snort against your will.

he grins. “see? there she is.”

you wrap your arms around his waist and hold on tight.

“i hate how much i love you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“nah,” he mutters, kissing your temple. “you love how much you love me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t let go. and never will.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @lowrisemiller

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter nine

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: fully recovered from your injury, you and joel go on a typical routine patrol that takes a sharp turn wc: 11.5k. buckle up rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, angst, graphic violence, gore, blood, TW: topics surrounding SA (nothing happens, it’s mainly just alluded to the subject but please be careful while reading and feel free to message me beforehand for specific details), hurt/comfort, trauma, small bits of fluff, reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn a/n: double update this weekend because i will be gone next weekend and won't be able to post until the last week of may. enjoy this long one (also as an apology for the last chapter being so short). be kind to yourselves. ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon)

IX. X&Y

I dive in at the deep end You become my best friend I want to love you but I don't know if I can I know something is broken And I'm trying to fix it Trying to repair it Any way I can

As you had assumed, your shoulder had healed well, courtesy of Joel’s fine stitching, and you soon were more than capable of returning to your usual routine. With the weeks that had gone by, the spring steadily unfolding into the welcoming heat of summer allowed you to become more appreciative of this season, considering the colder temperatures this city was capable of having. 

Your continuing friendship and abundant amount of time spent with Joel had settled any previous anxieties you had—the two of you falling into a pattern of familiarity that made his presence comforting and one that you purposefully sought out.

One thing that had changed was Ellie, specifically in regards to Joel. 

You hadn’t pushed, or even asked about it in the first place, but all you know is that things had been more… tense between them. A part of you chalked it up to her being so close to becoming an adult, and wanting more freedom. She was beginning patrol training soon, and the idea made Joel nervous with her being out there outside of his watch. Joel had asked Tommy to get her supervised shifts set up with the two brothers, you, or Jesse—the young man you had gone on patrol with the day your shoulder was injured, who had proven himself to be a good fit as an up-and-coming leader in Jackson.

The extent of what you had learned was that a certain patrol shift ended up with Joel and Ellie fighting off a decent sized group of infected when checking out a music store. Since that day, Ellie had been standoffish to Joel, and you could see the impact it left on him. He seemed more on edge and uncertain around her—a stark contrast to the easy understanding that usually flows between the two of them. It was a simmering tension that didn’t raise an eyebrow to all of Jackson, but you saw it.

The advice you had tried to give him was that she was a teenager who was growing and wanting her independence, but his reactions always gave off the impression something else had been going on—subconscious nods that told you your perspective on it wasn’t the full story. You had never, and would never, push the topic though. The most you’d been doing was hoping that Joel knew he could confide in you if needed. 

To you, Ellie was changing—not just physically, but also with the people she surrounded herself with. You stopped hearing much about Cat, her close friend you have briefly spoken to occasionally, and seen Ellie around a newer friend of hers that she has been spending an increasing amount of time with. Dina. She was a sweet girl. Very vivacious and teasing—her energy making it difficult for her to not capture everyone’s heart. You understood why Ellie had gotten close to her, and the idea warmed your heart. Ellie seemed more comfortable around Dina—the girl bringing Ellie out of her shell just a bit. It was a reassuring feeling to know that, whatever was going on in Ellie’s life, she seemed to have others she was close to that she could rely on.

“You all set?”

You’re brought out of your thoughts when hearing a voice as you were locking your front door behind you, turning to see Joel standing at the end of your walkway as you lock your front door—the warm air hitting your skin telling you that patrol would be good today.

“Yup. All good,” you respond with a smile.

Joel gives you a warm look in response as you make your way over to him, the two of you falling into pace with each other seamlessly as you make your way through town and over to the stables. Reaching the area, you find that Jesse is posted out front, and feel pleased as he greets you with a kind smile the moment he sees you.

“Hey Jesse, how’s your mom been?” You ask. 

You hadn’t spent so much time with the man at first, but ever since your injury, you had spent enough moments with him after that that you felt comfortable being friendly with him. He was polite enough to check on you after that day—occasionally stopping when he saw you around town to catch up and see how things were. Being one of the newer recruits, he was younger, probably early to mid twenties, but just as prepared as any of the others who went past the gates for patrol.

“She’s been alright. She told me Dina brought over some lemon cakes that were a recipe of yours she and Ellie made—it was amazing. Think she’d smack me if I didn’t pass along the compliment to you.”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest at his words, but your attention is cut off when you hear someone clear your throat behind you. 

You look back to see Joel standing closer over your shoulder, glaring down at Jesse. You didn’t notice how, or when Joel had gotten so close to you, but his frame hovers over you and nearly engulfs you in his presence. 

“Think we should head out now,” Joel says, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Turning back to say goodbye to Jesse before heading out, you feel bad when you see the young man look down to the ground sheepishly. You assume that Jesse being with you when you were shot had made Joel act odd around him, at least when the topic revolved you. Joel was always fine with Jesse being around Ellie, even agreeing that Jesse has proved himself of his capabilities, but perhaps Joel didn’t like him when it came to your own safety.

Watching Jesse walk away, you and Joel mount your horses—a playful comment leaves your lips as you turn to him, prepared to make your way over to the gates. “Ready, partner?” 

Your words seem to make Joel’s body relax from his previous tense state around Jesse, a half-smirk gracing his lips before shaking his head lightheartedly—his chest moving a bit as you see him try to suppress a laugh. “Sure am, darlin’,” he says, before tugging the reins of Callus to alert him to begin moving with you following them close behind.

The trek to your destination went quick and without any difficulty. Finished checking your designated area, Joel suggested the two of you venture a bit further into a neighboring city. 

“Tommy told me ‘bout it. He said we could find some extra supplies in the area. Apparently he and Eugene had found it and said the area seemed mostly clear of infected. It’s a bit of a trip, but, I have the time if you feel up for it?”

You nod in agreement as the two of you ride your horses over to the city. As he said, it did take some time, but the two of you dismounted and tied up your horses before walking through the city, checking in and out of different stores for some items.

One store that you pass happens to be a coffee shop. The moment he notices the sign in the shop window with a faded coffee cup design, Joel lets out a half-sigh, half-groan—a vocal cue of nostalgia that makes you smirk.

“You know, you do have coffee at home. Like, so much.”

Joel makes a soft tsk sound. “Not the same, darlin’. S’good enough to make me pretend like it’s the real thing, but not the same.”

His words that end in a sigh have you breaking into a small laugh. “Ah, yes. Possibly the only thing worse than living with infected is not having Starbucks, huh?”

Joel catches the sarcasm in your town, side-eyeing you as you two continue to make your way in and out of the various shops along the street. 

“Okay, little miss trouble, you tellin’ me you ain’t got nothin’ you’d kill to have again?”

The nickname he’s used for you more often causes your face to flush, making you look down at your feet to try and shove the feeling away as you think about his answer. You let out an exaggerated hum, tilting your head to the sky and squinting as you try to figure out your answer. 

“Something for pleasure? Chocolate covered strawberries. Something practical? A silk pillowcase.

You turn to face Joel and see him give you an amused look. “Chocolate covered strawberries, huh?”

“Mhm. Chocolate covered strawberries were my favorite dessert.”

“Think you could make it?” Joel asks.

You ponder on the idea. “I think chocolate would be technically possible. Probably just wouldn’t taste as sweet as all those artificial things they threw in food. I know I seem to make good carrot cake and lemon cakes, but I’m not sure I even know what I would need to make chocolate.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel open his mouth to speak before he seems to quickly shake away the thought. Instead, he twists his face in confusion. “And a pillowcase? You have those?”

His tone makes you slightly laugh. “A silk one, Joel.” Your clarification only makes him roll his eyes playfully, none the wiser of the difference. “It’s gentler on your hair. Guess I just miss tiny things for self-care. I always slept with a silk pillowcase before. Made my hair softer or whatever.”

For some reason, the memory stings more than you had thought as you miss the simple luxuries of the world before. You swallow down the thought and sigh. “Now… that is something I have no idea how to get.” With a teasing, yet wishful sigh, you say, “I’ll live, though.”

Joel breathes out what sounds like a laugh. “Still, I’m sure it’d be nice to have.”

You look over at him to see him giving you a thoughtful look, the intensity of his gaze causing you to break eye contact and look forward. 

The two of you continue roaming through the stores, only finding a few bits of supplies that could be taken back to Jackson.

“So,” Joel says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Jesse’s cute.”

You look over to him, a surprised look on your face at the sudden topic, when you see him with a firm look on his face.

“Didn’t know you swung that way, Miller.”

He laughs loudly, not expecting your response before clarifying. “I meant, like, for you or… somethin’.”

You scrunch up your face at that. “He’s kinda young isn’t he?”

“He’s around 23, I think… Not that far off from you.”

“I’m in my early thirties Joel,” you say while laughing awkwardly. “Not exactly the age range I’m looking for.”

“Closer to his age than mine. ‘Bout ten years is not much of a difference compared to the twenty-somethin’ year difference to mine.”

His persistence on the topic has you looking at him quizzically, only to find him looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with you as you see a muscle tick in his jaw. 

Trying to ease the odd tension that’s built, you laugh and ask, “You implying my only options are between Jesse and you?”

Joel tenses up at the question briefly, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The rigidness goes away as quickly as it came as he shrugs with no other response, his lips settling into a tight line and a frown appearing on his face.

The awkwardness that’s been created from your words has you biting the inside of your cheek while trying to come up with a response to redirect the topic. “I mean, I guess? He’s cute and all but… no. He’s not someone I see like that.”

Joel gives a thoughtful nod as you two cross onto the other side of the street. “Thought it might be an option for you, is all. Assuming you aren’t with anyone–”

You give him a deadpan look at the suggestion before he can finish. “Trust me, you’d be the first to know if that was the case. Plus, I don’t know… I’ve had people ‘flirt’ with me without knowing because I just didn’t even think to see them that way. Maria and Ellie always have to call it out when it happens because I’m apparently ‘too blind’.”

The memory makes you laugh before another thought comes to your mind. “How about you? Anyone around?”

The mere thought has Joel scoffing as he shakes his head. “Think I’ve solidified myself as someone who is unapproachable.”

You laugh at that. “Hey, you didn’t scare me off that easily,” you say pointedly. The two of you continue walking side by side as you push a bit further. “What about Esther?”

Joel suddenly whips his head to look at you as if you spoke another language. “Esther? What about her?”

“Oh come on Joel,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “She’s always staring at you, trying so desperately to get you to talk to her. She seems cute—nice enough.” 

You’ve seen her around before and spoken to her. She was… fine. Pretty, though. An older woman, closer to Joel’s age, whose voice was a bit too high-pitched with a smile that was a bit too fake. You first picked up on her advances to Joel at the bars when she’d come sit beside him at the counter, leaning her body a bit too close to his to get him to look at her. He never did.

Your mention of Esther comes with a tinge of distaste in your tone, one that Joel doesn’t seem to miss as one corner of his lips quirk up just a bit before he shakes his head. “No chance in hell darlin’. She reminds me too much of the PTA moms I’d have to deal with at Sarah’s schools. Gonna be a big pass from me on that front.”

As you take in the information while nodding, an odd sense of relief falls off your shoulders. Something in you has you not wanting to drop the topic just yet. “So… there’s no one you got your eye on?”

You ask the question while looking at him, still walking side by side down the sidewalk, and see him turn his head to meet your gaze. His mouth parts open slightly as he looks down at your lips, his expression indicating he has a response.

“Hey there!”

At the sound, a chill runs down your spine as the two of you quickly spin your bodies around to see six men across the street a couple stores down, slowly walking closer to you. The one in the front and center appears to be older, with a handgun stationed at his hip, and a wide smile spread on his face. Two of the men stand on one side of him while the other three stay on his other side. Some are younger than the others, but each is seen holding shotguns and assault rifles in their hands positioned in front of them. 

Joel angles his body slightly in front of you, shielding their view of you as much as possible as he hisses, “Stay behind me.”

Complying, your hand slowly goes to rest on your own gun stationed at your hip as you take one step back to stand half-behind Joel.  You watch him as he grips his assault rifle slung around his neck a bit tighter.

The group settles about twenty feet away from you before the man in the middle speaks up with the same disturbing smile, making you realize it was him who spoke up in the first place. 

“You guys from around here?”

Resting your left hand on Joel’s back for comfort, you feel his body tense up further and see a slight tick in his jaw as he clenches it repeatedly, gritting out in a monotone voice, “Just passin’ through.”

The man waits for a few seconds to see if Joel will continue speaking before saying, “We don’t usually get many people come by here, so… it’s nice to see some friendly faces after looking at so many dead ones.” The words slip past his lips in an unsettling saccharine tone. “You two have a community of your own?”

Joel doesn’t respond verbally, and instead gives a single shake of his head, lying to the group so as to not let them know anything about Jackson. 

His smile falters for a moment before widening again. “You know, we got a settlement about a couple hours to the west… you two are more than welcome to come with!” His eyes trail away from Joel to settle on you before he adds, “We got plenty of women so your missus won’t feel too scared.”

The moment he looks at you to speak to you directly, you feel Joel shift in his feet for a moment before a low growl leaves his throat that’s only loud enough for you to hear. Voice thick and gruff, he responds, “We’re alright. Again, just makin’ our way through.” It’s clean. Final. Leaving no room for argument, but it doesn’t seem to satisfy them.

A younger one from the group speaks up, eyes on you over Joel’s shoulder. “Now, my mama raised me right, so I can’t in good conscience let a beautiful young lady go on her own when I could help her.” His eyes trail over Joel’s form before smirking. “Can’t imagine an old man like you is able to take… proper care of a woman like that in a world like this.”

The words insinuate something darker that has bile rising in your throat. Your palm on Joel’s back has you able to feel his reaction—his body tensing before practically vibrating in anger. Looking up to eye his profile, you see his jaw clenching and moving as he grinds his teeth together. From your view, Joel’s eyes can be seen shifting between the group frantically as his mind races with what the best move is.

Somehow, the group seems to realize his intentions before you do as you see them all grip their weapons tighter. At the same moment, Joel quietly spits out a sharp go to you. You waste no time at all as you immediately move to duck behind the abandoned car for cover that is parked to your right while you hear shouting before the men begin to shoot in your direction. You feel Joel’s hand on your back as he throws you both to the ground—the two of you pressing yourselves low against the side of the car.

The sounds of gunshots stop for a moment as you hear them walking closer to your position. You look at Joel with a panicked expression to see a focused look on him, but not before you see a flash of fear in his eyes when he looks at you.

Frantically, he looks around before he settles on one of the stores a few feet to the right of the car. You follow his gaze to notice that, in their attempt to shoot you two, the men had shot up the coffee shop you had gone into earlier—the glass windows shattered as shards of glass line the sidewalk below. Joel looks back at you for confirmation and you give him a single nod, knowing his plan without any words spoken between the two of you. He jerks his head in the direction of the café, instructing you to make a run for the shop as he peeks over to the car to cover you from the men. 

The place was further down from where the men were approaching from, allowing more distance to be created between them. Joel and you use the mailboxes and old bus stop benches for cover as you each take turns shooting at the men as you move. Making your way into the opening created from the broken windows, Joel makes sure to stay close behind you as you run in, the protection allowing you to duck behind the counter and bakery case before he jumps over to sit behind as well.

The continuous shooting as you two ran now stops. A voice you recognize as the first man who had spoken, the one who you assume is their leader, calls out to you both. “Oh come on, now. We don’t want to hurt you guys! Just want to make sure you both find your way out safely.” His voice drips with malice at the end, causing another bone chilling fear to course through you. 

Fear begins to wrap a hand around your throat and causes you to lose focus. You look at the wall in front of you while breathing erratically, trying to swallow down the panic and think of something. Joel nudges your shoulder to grab your attention, the contact briefly snapping you out of your thoughts. He gestures to your weapons that you both hold and nods in the direction to the group outside. You give your own nod of understanding, and he takes a deep breath while looking at you before you both take turns to poke your bodies out and shoot off a few shots to the group.

In the time you spend out of cover, you notice they are spread out around the front of the shop, surrounding you while using their own forms of cover.

The ordeal goes on for what feels like an eternity–the two of you only getting one man down in the process. Joel drops down next to you for cover again before cursing quietly. He looks around the shop and leans his body to look past you. Getting your attention, Joel leans in close to you to quietly rush out a command. “M’gonna go sneak around the side to try and catch ‘em off guard. You keep shootin’ them from the front to distract ‘em, alright?”

No time to debate, you simply nod in agreement and Joel wastes no time to crouch down and crawl his way behind the counter and back his way around. You lift your body to peek over the tops of the counter and fire off a few more shots at them before dropping back down. In that time, Joel’s plan succeeds by surprising them with the angle and getting down one of them in the process. More shouting is heard from the men, alerting you that Joel killed the one he snuck up on.

Two down, you tell yourself. You can do this.

The back-and-forth continues. You fire off a couple shots at them, take cover when they shoot at you. Inevitably, you knew someone would have to make a move that caught more off guard.

Thankfully, you’re able to take one more down and soon after, Joel takes his own down from behind one of the cars. You do a mental scan of the group, remembering who was a part of it and which ones would be left. Thinking over it, you realize that only two would remain—the younger one who couldn’t have been much older than a teenager, and the leader of the group who you haven’t heard from or seen him show himself as much as the others.

Angling your head a bit, you look to find Joel coming up on the younger one. The one who had made a comment about you.

Joel shoots him in the kneecap before swiftly kicking the gun out of the kid’s hand. A sharp cry of pain is heard from the boy as he begs for mercy. Looking through the foggy bakery case, you try to squint to see a better view of what was happening. What you find is the sight of Joel kicking the boy’s head back with the butt of his gun, repeatedly smashing it into his skull. The twisted sounds of bones breaking fill your senses, mixed in with garbled cries of pain and pleading words spoken from the boy.

You peek over the counter once again to fire out a shot in hopes that the sound makes the leader’s presence known, but you’re met with the soft click of the gun signaling you are out of bullets.

Dropping back down, you curse and force yourself to not panic but fail as you reach into your jacket pocket with shaky hands trying to find your spare ammo. In the process, you don’t hear the crunching sound of glass close to you until you feel a tight grip on your arm as you’re forced to a standing position. A sharp yelp leaves you from the movement and your eyes widen when they settle on the figure that grabbed you.

“Looks like you’re caught now, princess,” he sneers.

The leader of the group gives you a sick smirk and snarls as he yanks you out from behind the counter after taking your gun and throwing it off to the side. You desperately try to fight against him, wriggling your body to free yourself from his grasp and run away, but he just presses your back deeper into the front of his body. Locking his left arm in front of your chest with a bone-breaking grip, he drags you out onto the street a few feet away from Joel.

He’s still straddling the boy as he beats him far past death, seemingly distracted as he gives no indication he heard or noticed what happened. The realization that his right ear had been facing the coffee shop hits you, understanding why he wouldn’t hear above the sounds of his fist driving into the boy’s face.

The leader calls out to Joel with a wave of his knife before pressing it against your throat and applying enough pressure for you to feel the sharp edge dig into your skin, alerting you if you move too suddenly, it would slice you. In a desperate attempt to keep the knife away from you, you keep your left hand gripped on his arm across your chest and your right hand holding his wrist that holds the knife to your throat—hoping you could use the force to escape if his grip loosened in the slightest.

At the call, you see Joel straighten up. His head whips around as he looks wild and confused, before his eyes settle on yours and you watch his entire body freeze in an instant.

You don’t take your eyes off him as you try not to let panic consume you, trying to use Joel’s presence as a source of comfort, but you aren’t stupid. You are aware that there is little that can be done from Joel right now without triggering this man to hurt you in some way. What causes your composure to falter, is you can tell that Joel realizes it too.

Joel raises his hands slowly in front of him, his rifle still slung around his neck but the handle of it loosely held in his hand as he holds it out and away from his body.

“Let her go.”

The tone in Joel’s voice is one you haven’t heard before, one that makes you shudder. It’s a mix of pure blind rage, combined with complete fear, all while his eyes never stray from yours. Not once.

The man laughs disturbingly. “You think this is a fucking discussion? We just wanted to talk, and you killed my fucking men.”

You feel the grip from his arm wrapped around your chest tighten, simultaneously applying more pressure with the knife held in his other hand. You feel nauseous—bile rising in your throat for what seemed like the hundredth time today as you feel his body behind you press further into yours. 

Joel seems to notice the action as he looks down quickly to the lower half of your body before flicking his eyes up to the man, a sickening snarl on his face. You see his body twitching from anger despite the distance between the two of you, noticing the way his hand’s grip on his gun tightens.

The man brings his face against the side of yours, his nose pressed against your temple as you feel his breath fanning your neck. Side-eyeing Joel, he says, “Can’t say I blame you, though. I mean if I found something this pretty in a world so ugly, well… I wouldn’t want to let it go either.”

He looks between you and Joel, a smirk in his voice as he snickers. “It’s a good thing I’m willing to share.”

You try to slow your breathing back to a steady pace, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this situation. You know that it would be hard for Joel to make a sudden move without something happening to you in the process, and you can tell from his body language and from how well you know him that he realizes it too. But you can also see, feel, the anger in him and his growing impatience. 

Your eyes flick around the scene before you to figure something out. Out of the corner of your eye, you focus on the way the man holds the knife to your throat. His right arm is held up and out, and the knife is long enough to cover your whole throat. His grip on the handle makes it so his hand is not parallel to your body, but rather it is held just above your shoulder. Noticing the detail, you think of a plan.

God, you hope this will work.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Joel breaks eye contact with the man and settles his gaze back onto yours, his eyes softening in the slightest when they meet your own. You flick your eyes down to your grip on the man before very slowly taking your index finger you have on the man’s right wrist, and make two light taps on the back of his hand—the action so delicate that the man doesn’t notice. But Joel does.

The movement catches Joel’s eye instantly as he’s hyper aware of every single part of your body at the moment, making him look at the hand holding the knife. The furrow between his brows twitches in understanding, a movement only you would catch, before he locks eyes with you again. 

Silent words pass between you in mere seconds, and you know Joel understands what you need him to do. His jaw clenches briefly, a sign that tells you he isn’t happy with the plan, and he quickly looks back to the man’s hand before his eyes flick between both of yours, a sudden nervous look in them. 

The two of you understand the risk, but both know there isn’t another option.

Gritting his teeth, Joel moves with a swiftness as he tightens his grip on his rifle and positions the weapon to aim. The movement is so sudden that the man has no chance to process what is happening before Joel shoots once at the back of the man’s hand that holds the knife. 

You only feel a small sharp sting followed by relief as the bullet grazes the top of your shoulder instead of completely penetrating your skin as it goes through the man’s hand.

He yells in distress as he pulls his right hand off your throat and drops the knife in shock. The moment makes his grip on your chest loosen, allowing you to rip his left arm off you and elbow him in the stomach before throwing yourself forward. In the same moment, Joel reaches for you and catches you by your forearms to try and break your fall as you land on the ground from exhaustion.

Seemingly satisfied with your immediate safety, Joel begins walking over to the man that sits on the ground screaming in pain and repeatedly cursing, “You fucking bitch!”

His face shifts into one of fear when his eyes lift up to the sight of Joel marching towards him, whatever expression on Joel’s face makes him scramble to try and get up to run. Before he gets the chance, Joel reaches his cowering body and uses the toe of his boot to kick the man in the chin, sending him laying back down on the ground with another curse and blood rushing from his nose and mouth.

You stay on the ground, hands digging into the pavement behind you as you watch Joel tower over the man before climbing on top of him. Joel reaches forward to wrap his left hand around the collar of the man’s shirt and raises his right hand, balled into a fist, and brings it down onto the side of his face repeatedly.

Your senses are consumed by the violence before you. All you can focus your eyes on is the violence before you. All you hear is the disturbings sounds of the man wailing in pain, bones crunching, and Joel. His snarls and grunts fill your ears as he proceeds to slam his fist into the man’s face for what feels like forever.

Eventually, you stop hearing the sounds of pain coming from the man who had almost killed you. You realize he’s dead, but Joel doesn’t stop. 

Eyes unable to be taken off the right side of Joel’s body over his body, you watch as Joel begins to alternate between fists as he continues beating him—only using his dead body as a vessel to let out pure anger and adrenaline at this point. The sounds of impact become more wet as blood completely covers the dead man’s face, Joel pounding into him relentlessly with the occasional sounds of bones crunching still occurring. You didn’t even know there were so many bones in the face to break.

Time passes, you aren’t sure how long, before Joel’s movements slow down to a stop. You think he only stops because his body is exhausted as you hear his harsh breathing and watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His fists twitch as if holding himself back from continuing, and you look to see the knuckles on both of his hands are covered in deep bruises along with blood. So much blood, covering his hands, arms, and splatters of it on his face.

This is what Maria had meant that first day you were here. What Joel was capable of.

As if he entered his body again, Joel seems to freeze. Perhaps he was lost in the violence and forgot you were there. Maybe, with the right side of his body facing you, he didn’t hear your labored breathing. You watch him slowly stand up off the now dead body, hovering over it as he looks down with disinterest. He turns and begins to walk over to you silently, his head angled downwards as he extends a bloody hand to help you up. 

You take it, your fingers wrapping around his usually warm and calloused palm that now is wet and sticky with blood. Allowing him to pull you up, you try to duck your head to look at him, but he has his eyes trained on the ground since he stopped punching.

“Are you okay?”

The words come out broken through his hoarse voice, the question being the first thing he’s said in however long he was killing that man. His eyes don’t raise past your waist, still not making eye contact with you directly as his face is etched in a deep frown.

You just want him to look at you.

You nod your head for a second before speaking up, your own voice sounding so small—the effort of speaking being almost painful. “Yes.”

Joel doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer as he opens and closes his mouth for a second, his frown deepening even more before he harshly shuts his eyes for a moment.

“Did they–” The words sound as if they are being forced out of his throat, his voice catching and a choked sound coming out as he spoke. “Did he… did he touch you?”

“No,” you respond softly.

Joel nods slowly before looking around at the aftermath of the fight.

Why won’t he look at you?

After a few moments, Joel clears his throat and his voice breaks slightly as he says, “Sound could’ve attracted clickers. We better head back to Jackson. S’gonna get dark soon.” The words are factual, said with no real rush in them, as if he’s forcing himself to move on. He gestures towards the horses down the road behind you, walking past you for a few steps. You stand there, staring at the barely recognizable dead body ahead of you before you turn around and call out.

“Joel?”

Your voice cracks at the name and you watch as his movements halt, turning his body half towards you with his eyes still firmly fixed on the ground. All he gives you is a hum of acknowledgement before you take one hesitant step towards him, seeing him tense up and take an unconscious step back. The action makes a crack split in your chest.

“Joel,” you repeat, voice barely above a whisper. “Can you please look at me?”

Hearing the tremble in your voice, Joel slowly, yet carefully, lifts his eyes to yours. Seeing his brown eyes finally making contact with yours makes you take a shaky breath in. The same eyes that always look at you with so much warmth in them that it envelopes you in him. You feel so small at the moment, not knowing how to tell him what you want.

He studies you for a moment, his own breathing stuttering when he makes eye contact with you. His frown deepens at first until he sees something in your eyes that makes his hardened face soften into relief, as if he read your mind and could hear the thoughts you desperately wanted to convey.

You aren’t scared of him, as he feared. As he has feared, for almost two years. Fear that if you saw every side of him, you would recoil with disgust. Completely pulling yourself away from him and looking at him like a monster.

In that moment, he realizes you don’t fear him. You need him.

He lets out what must have been a breath he was holding in since the two of you heard the stranger’s voice for the first time, his entire body sagging before launching himself forward in your direction. The moment Joel moves toward you, you impatiently step forward too and throw yourself into his arms.

You wrap both of your arms as tight as possible around his waist, eyes screwed shut and burrowing your face into his chest. Smelling sweat, and blood, and him. His own arms wrap around your back, somehow holding you tighter than you were holding him, as if he wanted to feel every inch of your skin against his own. He brings his right hand to hold the back of your head, pushing you even further into him before resting his face against the top of your head and letting his eyes fall closed at the feeling of you safe in his arms.

The comfort somehow makes you want to crumble further, the freedom to be more vulnerable causing a sob to escape your throat. You try to stifle the sound but Joel already heard it, rubbing the back of your head with his thumb as he moves to dip his head into the crook of your neck and breathes you in deeply.

“I got you, darlin’. Always,” he whispers against your neck.

With those words, you let everything out.

The name he’s called you for months now somehow hits you harder than it ever has, making your knees buckle as the exhaustion and loss of adrenaline seems to catch up to you. You feel Joel adjust his grip to hold you tighter and keep you up, mumbling against your skin, “M’not gonna let you fall.”

His touch and his words provide you more sturdiness and protection than you have ever felt—more than you thought was humanly possible.

Your sobs and panicked breathing eventually even out into sniffles as you focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat that you faintly hear with your ears pressed against his chest. You stand there holding each other for what feels like too long, yet also not long enough. When you feel more calm, you begin to loosen your hold and pull away, but not before Joel’s grip on you tightens just a bit more before letting you pull yourself away first.

You lean only inches back from him, eyes trained on the base of his neck as you feel his breath on your mouth. He brings the hand that was on the back of your head over to gently cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb underneath your eye to wipe away tears and the tenderness of his touch has your eyes falling shut. You feel him lean his forehead against yours for a few seconds before he pulls back enough to place a gentle and lingering kiss to your forehead.

Taking a step back from you, he moves his grip to place one on your waist and another on your upper arm. His eyes move across your face, taking in every detail before he breathes out to say, “We gotta go home, darlin’.”

His words cause you to snap back into reality as he was right. The sun had begun setting and it would be a long trip back to Jackson—you two had to leave now. It didn’t stop the small part of you that wished you could stay in his arms for the rest of your life.

You turn your body to head down the street when you feel him slip his hand into yours, squeezing tightly, before leading you over to your horses.

Déjà vu is a funny feeling. It’s something that people tend to forget just how odd of a sensation it is.

The blinding white lights that make your head pound intensely. The sterile smell of the hospital room. The hushed voices between the medical staff as they poke and prod you. Your own dissociative state as you sit silently, eyes unfocused on the wall in front of you. It’s all eerily similar to what you remember as your first day in Jackson.

All you want to do is go home and go to sleep for as long as humanly possible.

Joel and you had made your way back to Jackson, arriving close to midnight, you think. Due to how far you two had gone, it got dark fast. You had spent the ride back feeling Joel’s eyes on you at any chance he could get, but you had just stared straight ahead, too exhausted from the events that just occurred. About an hour in you remember Joel had called out to you, offering for you to ride on his horse sitting behind him so you could rest and use his back as support. His offer was due to his notice that your eyes had started fluttering shut more and more often, worrying him further on your current state. You declined, knowing that him having to steer his own horse while holding onto the reins of yours as she rode beside would only make the journey go slower.

You just wanted to be home as fast as you could.

Once arriving back to town, you found Maria, Tommy, and a few other leaders in the town waiting at the gates restlessly. Your absences had made the others worry something was wrong, and they seemed prepared to head out in search of you two.

You vaguely remember shouting. Tommy’s face growing alarmingly concerned at the sight of the state you two were in. Maria’s own body sagging with relief at the fact you two were alive before matching her husband in his concern once her eyes scanned over your form. You had felt hands grabbing you, bringing Joel and you to the doctor quickly to get you both checked for injuries. 

Since riding into Jackson, Joel hadn’t seemed to have taken his eyes off you now that he didn’t have to focus on the road ahead. You faintly recall his sounds of protest when the doctor had separated you two into your own rooms—Joel only succumbing to their efforts when Maria laid a firm hand on his chest to hold them back. “We’re giving her a female doctor to check her over, and I’ll sit with her the whole time. I promise.” Her words brought Joel a tiny bit of peace before becoming nauseous at the need for their decisions regarding you.

A hand touching your shoulder brings you back to reality for a moment, causing you to flinch at the sudden touch. Looking up, you realize the doctor was speaking to you with Maria behind her and looking over her shoulder to watch your reactions.

“What?”

The memory of your first day arriving here comes back to you once again when you speak, remembering the overwhelming feeling you had so long ago. The feeling of being underwater while drowned-out voices echo around you and try to grab your attention.

The doctor sighs before looking at Maria, not impatiently, but knowingly. “I’ve checked her thoroughly. Besides the small wound on the top of her shoulder from the bullet, she doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Some bruising, sure, but I mainly think she’s just overwhelmed.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she leans closer to Maria, intending for you to not hear what she says. But you do. “The mental signs of infection are most likely due to the trauma.”

She talks about you like you aren’t there. Like you aren’t human. 

The question that races through your mind, the only question you care for the answer to, comes out of you. “Where’s Joel?”

Maria turns her attention to you when she hears your voice croak out the words. She gives a sad smile before replying, “Don’t worry honey, he’s just outside talking with Tommy right now. He’s alright, too…we figured you’d want your space–”

“I want Joel,” you say, leaving no room for argument in your tone.

Her eyes soften in understanding and she gives a small nod before the doctor opens the room to head out, Maria following her out. She leaves the door open a bit, allowing you to hear the hushed, broken sentences from Tommy and Joel—the door angled so you could see Joel leaning close to Tommy to whisper, their words fading in and out.

“...Where do you think they…”, you hear from Tommy first.

“Don’t know. Can't be too close. We were so far out and…”

“... Could be on their way if they see… Just like David was…”

David? Who was David?

“No, no… made sure they couldn’t follow…”

You wish they would speak up louder so you could hear more of what they were saying.

Then, in a weaker voice, you hear Joel say, “It happened again, Tommy… I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t–”

Their conversation is interrupted as Maria walks up. You see Joel’s body language straighten out and tense up as he looks to her with stoicism. It isn’t until you hear your name being said in the mix of words that you see Joel’s head snap in your direction before he takes quick strides to get to your door.

The moment it opens, his eyes are alert—worried. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, just… wanted to see you. Make sure you’re okay too.”

His features soften, his round eyes so heartbreakingly beautiful that you forget about what happened for a single moment and only focus on him.

“Yeah, I’m alright, darlin’. Doc said you’re cleared. They patched up your shoulder and everythin’.”

You nod, not caring much for the state of your injuries as you can only focus on one goal. “Can we go home now?”

Joel nods without hesitation. “‘Course we can,” he says, walking towards your chair. His hand seems to hover over your back, wanting to guide you but knowing you had been jumpy to anyone touching you the whole time you were here. You take the initiative to lean your body into his when you stand up, giving him a silent cue that his touch was welcome—craved, even. You hear a small sigh of relief leave his mouth as he wraps his arm around your back, holding you close to him as he guides you both outside the building. 

You catch Tommy and Maria speaking in hushed tones outside the front door of the hospital before stopping when they see you two. They both look down to Joel’s arm around you—Maria with a firm look on her face, lips tight and brows twitching together, while Tommy offers a more softer and sympathetic look. “You guys let me know if you need anythin’, alright?”

Joel gives a nod of acknowledgement to his brother before Tommy comes over to pat his shoulder, leaning in as you hear Tommy whisper to him. “Take care of your girl, alright, big brother?”

The words don’t impact you as much as they might have before today, letting you know that you aren’t completely there, but they seem to affect Joel as you hear him take a sharp inhale of breath before giving a single nod in response.

It’s a short and silent walk to your house until you turn onto your walkway. Joel leads you over to your door as you reach into the inside of your jacket to take out your house key in the pocket there. Your hands uncontrollably shake as you try to get them, but your struggle is stopped not long after by the feeling of Joel’s hand gently laying on top of yours.

You look up to meet his eyes, seeing his eyebrows pushed together and up a bit as he gives you the same tender look he’s given you, and only you, all night whenever he looks at you. “Let me,” he softly commands, taking over to reach into your pocket. As he grabs the key and opens your front door, he still supports your body with his other arm as you lean into his side.

He gently helps you into your home before closing and locking the door behind him while you just stand there, numb, and looking around the entryway. When he finally turns around to look at you, he’s met with the sight of your back, unmoving, and his worry only grows. 

Slowly walking around to stand in front of you, he lifts his hand to carefully brush away stray pieces of hair that have fallen in front of your face, as if he’s done the action a million times. You look at his chest, yet stare at nothing in front of you as your eyes continue to stay unfocused. Noticing this, Joel begins to frown as he feels a lump in his throat—a pain stabbing him in his chest.

He brings his hand that brushes your hair away to cup your chin, delicately guiding your head upwards to try and get you to focus on him. It seems to do the trick as your eyes meet his, blinking repeatedly to adjust your eyes to your surroundings.

The sight of you more focused eases Joel’s worry a bit. You lift your eyes to his and watch as he smiles sadly. “There she is. Missed ya.”

You become aware of how you’ve been acting. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to–”

Joel cuts you off with a shake of his head before speaking to you with sincerity in his voice. “Absolutely nothin’ you need to apologize for, darlin’. Just want you alright is all.”

You numbly nod your head, watching as Joel straightens up to look over to your staircase leading upstairs. “How about you go up there, take a shower, and get ready for bed. I’ll give you some space if you want and head home to do the same before I–”

The thought of being alone makes you frantically shake your head, eyes wide as you begin rambling. “No, please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone, please just–”

Surprised worry appears on Joel’s face as he places his hands on your arms to steady you and bring your attention back on to him, ducking his head down to level his eyes with yours once again. “Hey, hey,” he hushes soothingly. “I’m gonna come right back, make you some food to eat ‘til you fall asleep, okay?”

It’s not enough. You shake your head again. “Please don’t go yet… you can use my shower before I do and then we can eat. I have plenty of spare towels if you’re okay with that?”

Joel pauses for half a second before giving you a smile in response. “‘Course I can, darlin’. Let me go home to grab some clothes, then I can get washed up here and we can eat before you sleep. That sound alright with you?”

His suggestion is the most logical, so you nod in agreement. It doesn’t stop you from standing at your window and watching him as he walks across the street to his house, only to stare at his door waiting until he comes back out. The lights go on and off as he seems to move about the house before he comes back out shortly. Seeing him again has you letting out a breath of relief, taking no hesitation to swing open your door before he is even fully on your side of the street. 

The sound of you opening the door has his steps faltering for a brief moment, his movements pause until continuing to make his way inside—a small bag over his shoulder that you assume is filled with a change of clothes.

You hover close to him as you watch him cross the threshold and remove his shoes at the front of your door. He gestures upstairs with a nod of his head. “You take the first shower, okay?”

You try and argue, suddenly feeling bad about making him stay here with you, but he just shakes his head at you. “Nope, I’ll be alright ‘til you’re ready. I can start preparin’ some hot food for you so it’s nice and fresh for when you’re done. Take your time, okay?”

Nodding to him, you slowly make your way upstairs, turning at the top to see him watching you until you reach your bedroom. You then hear the sounds of him walking into your kitchen—the clanging sounds of pots assuring you he was still here.

Your body moves like a zombie. Your motions are on autopilot as you walk into your bathroom, turning on the shower to let it warm up before beginning to undress. Once completely stripped, you look at the pile of clothes that now lays on the bathroom tile—what looks like every inch of it covered in blood and fully ruined. You stand there for a few seconds too long, simply looking down and glaring at it as if its presence disgusts you, before deciding you would throw it out in the morning. Or maybe even burn it.

As you turn to step into the shower, you make an effort to avoid your mirror at any cost, forcing your legs to lift and settle into your position under the stream. The hot water burns your skin, a feeling you relish in that moment as you wish it would rip your skin off and allow your body to start over. You grab your various soaps and begin washing your hair, your body, your face—ending up scrubbing relentlessly in every spot you can possibly think of until the skin burns raw, the dried blood that was left on you far gone.

You aren’t sure how long passes after you finish removing the filth of the day from your body, but you stay standing under the water and let it cascade over your body—your arms folded across your midsection as you tilt your head down to stare at the drain as it turns from red to clear.

A knock on your bathroom door pulls your attention, followed by a call of your name. “You okay in there?”

It takes you a second to find the strength to speak before you’re able to call out a response. “Yes,” you reply, the broken sound of your own voice shocking you.

There’s a short pause before you hear Joel respond. “Alright… just wanted to let you know that the food’s ready, so you can come down whenever you’re done.”

Surprise hits you for a moment. “How long have I been in here?”

With a layer of worry in his tone, Joel calls out, “Uh, just lil’ over an hour… Why? Is somethin’ wrong?”

You shake your head before you realize that he can’t see you. “No… I’ll be out in a moment.”

You hear him say to take your time, but you already turned off the water and step out, beginning to dry off and put your pajamas on.

Once finished, you open your bathroom door expecting to see Joel standing in your bedroom. In his absence, panic begins to build inside you and has you calling out his name hurriedly before you see him poke his head into your bedroom door out of the corner of your eye. You turn to face him fully and sigh with relief, realizing that he was just standing outside in your hallway. 

“Sorry,” he sheepishly responds. “Just wanted to give you some privacy.”

You shake away his apology, feeling ridiculous for your reaction in the first place, and move to grab the clean spare towels you have in your cupboard and hand them to him. “Here.”

He gives you a polite smile before taking the pile of folded cloth into his hands, adjusting his grip to pick up the bag he brought here that was leaning against the wall outside your room.

“You go head downstairs and start eatin’. I’ll join you when I’m done. Should be only ten minutes, I promise.”

You nod and let him walk past you into your bathroom, closing that door behind him. 

For a moment, you stand in your bedroom doorway and look in the direction of your staircase. Hovering for a moment while fidgeting, you feel unsure of what to do with yourself until you decide to sit on your bed and wait there for him. The sounds of him turning the water on and moving around brought you a bit of peace, and you end up staring at the clock to watch the hands tick by while you wait for him.

He was right about the time as you hear the water turn off only twelve minutes… and thirty-seven seconds later—your eyes never straying from the moving lines on your clock until you hear shuffling, assuming he’s getting dressed before the bathroom door opens. 

Joel comes out with his head bowed down as he runs a towel quickly through his hair, wearing black sweatpants and a soft looking navy blue T-shirt. He takes two steps out of the bathroom before his head raises back up to see you sitting on the bed waiting for him with your legs folded beneath you.

He jumps slightly, not expecting you to be there, and looks out your bedroom before turning back to you with a confused expression. “Thought I told you dinner was ready?” He calmly says, no judgment or accusation in his tone.

You look down at your hands you’d been fidgeting with in your lap, picking at your fingernails. “I… I wanted to wait up here for you.”

He blinks once. The confusion stays with him for a second as he processes your response,  until his face shifts into warm understanding. “Okay. Let’s go down to eat.”

The moment he steps away from the bathroom door, the bright bathroom light he had shielded you from with his body no longer lays on you. When you stand, Joel takes a step towards you to help you up but freezes once he sees you under the light, his face hardening.

Confusion and worry consume you for a moment, but clarity strikes you when you see his gaze trained below your face. Due to the dim lighting of your house, and the fact your clothing up until now was covering most of your body, Joel had not yet seen the extent of your injuries that you avoided staring at in the bathroom.

His eyes stay glued to the brushing on your arms for a few seconds before they lift up to the bandage on your shoulder. His focus travels to your throat where you assume a long thing cut laid there from the knife that was pressed against you.

Still looking at your throat, you watch Joel’s top lip twitch before he swallows his emotions harshly. “C’mon,” he mutters softly, placing his hand on your shoulder and guiding you gently downstairs.

Reaching the kitchen, you see a pot of stew sitting on the now-off stove with two bowls next to the stovetop and a large ladle placed against the side of the pot. Joel pulls out a chair for you at your kitchen table, letting you sit before he goes over to fill up the two bowls with the food, coming back over to place them down in front of your respective spots before going to grab some water from the fridge.

You both settle into your seats and begin to eat silently, the only words spoken being a quiet thank you from you for him making you something to eat. He brushes off your appreciation lightheartedly, as if his sentiment was as natural as breathing and nothing worth being thanked for. The sounds of silverware clanking against the ceramic bowls mixed with the domestic nature of the two of you eating together in silence is enough for you a sense of safety and comfortability to wash over you, no words needing to be shared to fill the quiet.

When you finish your bowl, Joel moves to take it to the sink as he was done with his own a few minutes before, and starts to wash and put away everything. You watch his back silently as he moves, thinking you hear a very faint sound of humming coming from him, but it’s too quiet for you to be sure.

As he dries the last bowl left, you quickly rush out a question you've had on your mind since coming home.

Joel turns to face you, looking confused and making you realize you had spoken too quietly. You wait a few moments as he turns the water over, drying his hands on your dish towel and turning his body to face you directly as he leans back against the sink counter.

You clear your throat and look at the ground as you repeat your question. “Can you sleep here tonight?”

His lack of response for a few seconds fills you with shame, feeling stupid for even asking. Trying to rectify the embarrassment, you begin to ramble out more words with your head angled towards the floor. “I just… I don’t really want to be alone tonight. I know the couch is not the most comfortable thing to sleep on, so if you don’t want to I completely understand, I just–”

“Yes.”

The sound of his voice responding to you makes you shoot your head up to look at him, eyes wide as you hadn’t expected him to agree. Making eye contact with you, you see a sure look in his eyes mixed with… relief?

Did he want to sleep here tonight, too?

Mouth parted in a small “o” shape, you slowly nod. “Okay… um, I have some spare pillows and blankets in my bedroom closet. Let me go get them for you and I’ll set you up on the couch.”

Joel wordlessly nods, walking into the living room as you quickly make your eyes upstairs to grab the items. In your room, your eyes glance at the clock hung on your wall to see it was 2 am. Your body seems to snap back into its previously exhausted state as you realize how long the day has been—Joel’s presence since you arrived home seems to have distracted you from the reality of the toll your mind and body took on today.

You make your way downstairs to find Joel watching you carefully as you walk up to him and hand him the pillows and blankets. He takes them with a hum of appreciation before he begins to set up his space for the night.

The sight of him fluffing the pillow onto one end of the couch and stretching the fabric of your quilt across the narrow cushions has you wince. The guilt of making him, as big and broad as he is, spend the night on your cramped couch grows in you.

As he finishes his movements with a final flick of his wrist to throw one end of the quilt at the end of the couch, you open your mouth to tell him he can go home. Somehow, despite his back being towards yours, he turns to look at you before you can even speak, only to immediately say, “I want to be here.”

Your mouth flutters open and closed after he speaks with such confidence, momentarily stunned at the timing of your thoughts. Or perhaps he knew what you were going to say without even seeing that you had wanted to speak. 

You give him an attempt at a smile, your lips barely curling up in one corner, something that takes a bit of effort as you think you haven’t done it since before your run in earlier. You seem to be proven right when you see Joel’s shoulders sag with relief at the sight, grateful to have some emotion be shown out of you.

You look around the room, unsure how to say goodnight, while also not wanting to be away from him. He seems to notice your hesitancy, because he nods his head in the direction of your staircase. “Let me get you to bed, darlin’.”

Assuring him you can do so on your own, you shake your head and begin to protest. He carefully reaches his hand out to hold one of your hands as his eyes focus on you and speaks with the same confidence from before. “I want to.”

With that, you allow him to walk up with you to your bedroom—Joel opening the door for you and guiding you inside. You make your way over to your bed and watch with slight awe as Joel reaches over to pull the covers back, allowing you to slip in. The action makes your cheeks flush, and you become grateful for the darkness in the room as you crawl into bed and settle beneath the covers. You look at the lamp that sits on your dresser in the corner of the room before eyeing Joel nervously. His gaze follows yours to look at the lack of light with furrowed brows. 

“Could you… um…” you trail off, gesturing towards the lamp with your chin. He understands your request and walks over to turn it on so that a dim warm light fills your room. 

Embarrassment fills you for a moment, feeling like a fucking child who just woke up from a nightmare and needs their light on to sleep through the night. Maybe that’s what today was, you think. One big nightmare, and you’ll wake up tomorrow feeling normal again.

Logically, you knew you would recover. Having had these encounters in the past before, you always compartmentalized the experiences and moved on—forcing yourself to bury the complexities of your emotions in order for you to be able to keep going both physically and mentally. Today, though, you found yourself feeling safe in terms of your reactions. Joel’s patient and gentle nature with you makes you feel free enough to not need to keep it all in. For once, you could let yourself rely on someone else to be there for you.

As Joel makes his way back around to you, he sits on the edge of your bed beside you to begin adjusting the blankets until they cover you more properly. Satisfied with his effort, he rests one of his hands on top of yours that lay on your stomach overlapping each other. His eyes lift to yours with such warm intensity that it makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t recall a moment where anyone has ever looked at you with so much emotion and care in their eyes.

The two of you simply gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before Joel breaks the contact by leaning forward slowly, slow enough for you to stop him if you wanted, but you don’t want to. His lips press a lingering kiss to your forehead, a deep inhale leaves his nose before he pulls back.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he says as he stands and begins to walk backwards out of your room, eyes never leaving your face. 

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You watch him leave your room and notice how he keeps your door partly open so that you can see him walk down the staircase, deliberately leaving your dim staircase light on to give you more comfort.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: sorry for the emotional rollercoaster, and posting it after episode 6. feeling masochistic. 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @silksepia @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63

[pilotispunk]

ix - i'd have you anytime

pairing: rockstar! joel x f! tour manager reader

part ix of amplified

You and Joel finally let everything out.

amplified masterlist

amplified on ao3

word count - 8k (sorry not sorry)

rating - E

chapter content - age gap, talking (like, so much talking), emotionally vulnerable smut, introspective Joel & introspective reader, yearning in all directions, soft angst with softer resolution, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, riding

You follow Joel out into the night, past the back doors of the venue and into the loading area where the air still buzzes faintly with motion. A forklift whines in the distance. A crew member’s voice crackles over comms. You hug your arms across your chest even though it’s not cold. He doesn’t look at you. Just walks.

His curls are still damp from the stage, clinging to his temples and curling behind his ears. Sweat darkens the collar of his black t-shirt. You curse yourself for noticing. For finding him attractive even now, after all this mess that he created. For how much your body remembers even when your heart is still bracing for impact.

He stops walking when you’re far enough from the building, standing near the side of a freight truck. He doesn’t turn to face you.

You stay planted a few feet behind him. Arms crossed. Guard up. The silence is thick. 

Then, finally. 

“You were right. I read your email.”

The words come low and rough. 

You blink, surprised not by the admission, but by how steady his voice is. How quiet.

He shifts, finally glancing back at you. “Didn’t mean to. You left your laptop open and I… I saw it.” A pause. “Shoulda closed it and walked away.”

You don’t say anything. Not yet.

“But I didn’t,” he adds. His jaw clenches, eyes falling to the ground. “And after that, I didn’t know how to ask. So I didn’t. I just shut down.”

There’s no defense in his voice. No angle. Just truth. And for Joel, that might be the closest thing to an apology you’ll ever get without the word itself.

“I’m sorry.” 

He stops your internal monologue in its tracks and you turn fast to look at him. 

He flinches. Not dramatically. Just a small shift in his shoulders, like the words made impact somewhere deep behind his sternum. His jaw works, the muscle ticking once before he looks down, then back up.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to mess with you,” he says, voice quieter now, weighted by something that feels a little like shame. “Swear to God, that wasn’t what I meant.”

He drags a hand down his face, exhaling rough through his nose. His curls are still damp, darkened around his temples, and one strand clings to the side of his cheek. You watch the way he presses his lips together, like he’s trying to figure out how much of himself he can say out loud without unraveling.

His eyes flick up to meet yours again, hesitant but steady.

“I should’ve told you ‘fore I sang that,” he adds, slower this time. “Should’ve told you everything.”

You can see it in his face, plain as anything — the regret settling in behind his eyes, in the crease of his brow, in the way his mouth twists slightly to the side like it hurts to speak the truth out loud.

Then, with a soft hitch in his voice that cuts through the quiet:

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

He shifts his weight like he wants to say more but isn’t sure if he’s allowed.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t worth sayin’ all that to or like I wanted to end things,” he says finally. “I just... didn’t know how to talk about it without screwin’ it up. So I didn’t. And that’s on me.”

His voice catches a little at the end. Not like he’s going to cry, but like the words cost him something to admit. Like they scraped their way out of him. Still, somehow, he looks relieved just to have said them.

His gaze drops to the ground, but he keeps talking, jaw tight.

“Didn’t think I was allowed to want more from you. Didn’t think you’d choose someone like me — older, stubborn, still draggin’ all this baggage behind me.”

He lifts his eyes slowly. They’re tired and open and full of something you’ve been aching to see.

“But I wanted you to know how I feel,” he says. Softer now. “Even if it was a coward’s way of sayin’ it.”

You let the words sit. Let them settle.

Then, you take a step closer. 

“What is this, Joel?” you ask. Your voice doesn’t waver. “Is this something you really want or something you’re scared of losing just because you had it?”

Something shifts in his eyes. Then he steps forward, just close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his chest.

“I want you,” he says. “Not just here. Not just for the tour. No bullshit, just us.”

He exhales once, slow. Shakes his head at himself.

“And I’m scared as hell about it. But I still want it.”

You swallow, your throat tight. All the hurt you’ve been holding presses up against your ribs, trying to escape. You breathe through it. Let it ease out in pieces.

“You really fucked me up, Joel.”

His eyes flicker. “I know.”

You nod. Shake your head at the same time. Your chest aches, but you’re already moving in, just one step closer.

“So don’t do it again.”

You can feel the pragmatic part of yourself 

“You really fucked me up, Joel.”

His eyes flicker — not with surprise, but with impact. Like the words hit somewhere tender he can’t hide.

“I know,” he says quietly.

You nod, but your head shakes too. Like the truth lives somewhere between the two.

The pragmatic part of you stirs — the one that’s always known when to walk. You’ve left for less. You’ve ended things the moment someone flinched at your ambition, your schedule, your pace. You made peace with loving on your own terms, and if they couldn’t keep up, they weren’t meant to stay.

And Joel? God, he should’ve been another clean break.

But then he wasn’t.

Because despite everything — the silence, the shutdown, the ache he left behind — you want him. Still.

And more than that — you understand it now. The reputation, the rumors, the tabloid fragments never told the truth. They painted him as something cold, unkind, unreachable. You believed it, once.

But that version of him? It’s smoke. It’s a mask you’ve watched slide off piece by piece — until what’s left is this beautiful, complicated man who’s trying in all the ways that matter.

And you love him.

You love him so much it almost hurts to hold it.

You step closer. Until there’s no air left to question anything.

“So don’t do it again.”

You don’t explain what “it” is. He already knows.

He lifts a hand to your jaw, gentle. His thumb brushes along your cheek, then down toward your mouth. He looks reverent, like he can’t believe you’re letting him touch you like this again.

“I won’t,” he murmurs. 

Then he leans in. Rests his forehead against yours.

When the kiss comes, it’s quiet. Intentional.

The first press of his mouth is soft — cautious, almost shy. An apology made of breath. He pulls back just enough to see if you’ll let him stay. Then kisses you again, deeper, when you don’t move.

His hands come up slowly, cupping your jaw with care. You can feel the restraint in his touch, the way he handles you as though this moment matters too much to rush.

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt. Not to pull him in — just to anchor yourself in the weight of him, steady and warm in your hands.

You kiss until the air between you stills, until the ache starts to give way to something quieter. It’s not driven by hunger or forgiveness. It’s steadier than both. A return. A breath shared between two people who finally stopped looking away.

When you pull back, your foreheads touch.

There’s no space left now. Just the warmth of skin and the quiet of everything settling.

Joel exhales against your mouth. His voice is low, almost steady.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

You keep your eyes closed. Let the words land where they’re supposed to.

Then, just as soft:

“Then stop waiting for it to happen.”

He nods, once. You press your hand to his chest, fingers splayed. You feel his heartbeat, steady beneath your palm. And for the first time in days, it feels like yours is starting to sync with it again.

“Let’s get out of here, huh?” Joel asks, caressing your face. 

You walk back side by side, his hand in yours.

The silence isn’t heavy anymore. It doesn’t ache. It just is — settled and still.

Your thumb brushes his, and his fingers tighten slightly, careful even now. As if holding too hard might undo all of it.

Neither of you speaks.

There’s nothing left to close between you.

His fingers thread through yours like they’d been waiting.

And you let them.

—------------------------------------------------------

You walk back into the green room with Joel, still holding his hand.

The room hums with low movement. Sarah’s tucked into a folding chair, scrolling her phone. Ellie’s half-sitting on a table, attempting to juggle old fruit. Tommy’s in mid-sentence with Henry, saying something about load times and his guitar picks.

But the second Joel steps in behind you, everything shifts.

Not dramatically — just the subtle way people straighten up. Like they’ve been caught. Like Joel Miller walking in hand-in-hand with someone is enough to make them all take stock.

Joel catches it. Doesn’t say anything, but you see it — the small shift in his jaw, the breath he holds for half a second longer than he needs to.

He clears his throat and calls out, “Sarah. Ellie.”

They look up — Sarah setting her phone down with a raised brow, Ellie already smirking. Both of them make their way over with a little too much casualness, like they’ve already made up their minds about what’s going on.

Joel glances at you, then back at them. You feel his fingers flex slightly in yours — like he’s bracing for something. Like maybe it’s been a long time since he’s done this.

He straightens his spine. Rubs the back of his neck once, then lowers his hand again.

He introduces you by name. Clear. No qualifiers.

“Figured it’s time I introduced her properly.”

He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t fill the silence.

“We’ve been seein’ each other a while now.”

His hand’s still wrapped in yours. Tighter now.

And then, quieter, but certain:

“She’s been the reason I’m still standing through this damn tour.”

There’s a beat of silence — not uncomfortable, just weighted.

Then Sarah lifts her eyebrows, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” she says, slow. “We figured.”

Ellie leans her shoulder into the table and smirks at Joel. “About time you stopped pretending you weren’t into each other.”

Joel exhales — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Just a quiet release, the kind that loosens something that’s been sitting tight in his chest for too long.

Sarah steps closer. Her gaze shifts to you — sharp, but not unkind. There’s something protective in it, but also soft, curious. She holds out a hand.

“Nice to finally meet the woman making my dad less grumpy.”

You shake it, and she gives you a small smile. A real one.

Ellie’s watching you now too — still grinning, but less smug. There’s a flicker of something underneath it, something almost... approving.

“So,” she says, voice casual, “we like her.”

Joel just mutters, “Good to know,” and gently knocks her shoulder with the back of his hand.

Tommy passes behind him on the way to the fridge and claps Joel on the shoulder, easy and solid.

“‘Bout damn time,” he says. “Good to see you finally not tryin’ to keep somethin’ good to yourself.”

From across the room, Maria meets your eyes and nods once — calm, quiet, like she’s known all along. Like she’s glad it’s finally out in the open.

Nobody makes a big deal of it.

Which, somehow, makes it feel like it matters even more.

Joel leans in, voice low near your ear, almost sheepish.

“Feels good… not havin’ to hide you anymore.”

And there’s something in his voice — not relief exactly, but something softer. Grateful. Proud.

You squeeze his hand in yours.

And for the first time in a while, he squeezes back without hesitation.

Someone says “greasy food” and suddenly it’s settled — there’s going to be a diner run.

You don’t even remember who suggested it first. Might’ve been Sarah, or maybe Tommy, already talking about hashbrowns and bottomless coffee like a reward after the chaos of the day. Someone else cheered.

Ellie, arms already crossed and tapping her foot, just declared, “I want food that’ll shorten my lifespan.”

And somehow, that sealed it.

The vans rattle to life under the hotel awning, headlights sweeping across the pavement. Ellie calls shotgun before the doors even open, and Sarah just rolls her eyes as she climbs in behind her. Someone’s laughing. Someone’s already half-asleep.

You and Joel sit close in the back, his hand resting on your thigh, thumb grazing the seam of your jeans without thinking.

The diner glows ahead like a holdover from another decade. Its neon sign buzzes faintly in the quiet dark, casting streaks of red and gold across the parking lot. The windows are fogged at the corners. Inside, it smells like burnt coffee, griddled onions, and old vinyl booths — and somehow, it feels perfect.

You slide into one of those booths beside Joel. Sarah takes the spot across from you. Tommy squeezes in next to her, already pointing something out on the laminated menu like he’s been here before. Ellie’s at the next booth with Sam, mid-rant.

“Peanut butter and pickles,” she says, dead serious. “You get the creaminess, you get the crunch, you get the tang — it’s a texture experience.”

Sam looks like he wants to argue but also kind of agrees. “You’re sick,” he mutters. “But also, I’d try it. Just once.”

Maria and Henry settle in too, spreading across both booths. Sarah drifts easily between the two, shoulder to shoulder with whoever’s talking.

It’s not quiet. It’s a barely controlled sprawl of voices and inside jokes. Sarah’s telling a story about a college roommate who once took an edible before a midterm and forgot her own name. Ellie’s loudly heckling Joel for ordering meatloaf.

“You had one job,” she says, scandalized. “Literally a whole menu, and you pick beige sadness.”

Joel doesn’t even look up. “It’s got gravy. Nothin’ sad about that.”

“That’s not a defense.”

Tommy cuts in with a story about a motel from an old tour — something about a clogged sink, a dead possum, and a show they almost missed in Alabama. You’re halfway through laughing when Joel leans toward you and mutters, “Don’t believe half that shit.”

You do anyway. Or maybe you just like the way his voice sounds this close to your ear.

It’s chaotic. Easy. Real.

And you feel it.

How natural this is. How effortless. Like you’ve all been doing this for years instead of weeks. Like the edges of the group have softened just enough to let you in. You wish you could bottle it. Take it with you.

Because this tour is ending soon. And the next one might not look like this. Might not feel like this.

A different city. A different band. A different kind of noise.

That Pearl Jam job is still sitting in your inbox, glowing like a maybe. Like a fork in the road no one else knows you’re standing at.

You glance around— Ellie elbow-deep in fry sauce, Sam nodding like she’s made a compelling culinary point, Maria stealing a bite from Tommy’s plate, Sarah glancing at her phone but smiling at everything around her — and you think, God, I wish I could take all of this with me.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Joel doesn’t say much. Doesn’t need to. The restaurant is alive without him. Conversations crisscross, plates slide around, silverware scrapes at cheap ceramic. There’s a kind of rhythm to it. The kind you only get with people who’ve been in the trenches together.

But he’s not listening to the stories. He’s watching you.

Not in that restless way he did in the beginning, when everything felt like a question he didn’t know how to ask. This is different. Quieter. There’s no tension in it now — just stillness, like something inside him has finally gone quiet enough to see you clearly.

You laugh, head tilted back, easy and unguarded. The kind of sound you never gave him in those first few weeks. Your hand brushes his thigh under the table — casual, familiar — like you forgot there was ever a time you kept your distance.

When you pass Sarah a napkin before she even asks, his chest tightens. When you lean in toward Tommy and ask, “He’s been good on this tour, right?” and Tommy says, “Better than good” without missing a beat — Joel feels something settle behind his ribs.

You’ve found your place here. With them. With him.

And he’s grateful in a way that almost hurts.

He came so close to ruining it. To pushing you away for good. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth — sharp and cold, even now.

He hasn’t said the words yet. Not out loud.

But watching you now, laughing with his brother, easing into this life like it’s always been yours — he know for sure.

He loves you.

It’s not the kind of love that needs to be announced. Doesn’t ask for anything in return. Just settles in his chest — steady, quiet — like it’s always been there.

You turn to him slightly, catching the look on his face. “You okay?”

He doesn’t hesitate. Just leans in and kisses you.

It’s gentle. Certain. An exhale from somewhere deep he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin. “I’m perfect.”

From down the tables, Ellie groans.

“Jesus. Get a room.”

Sam grins and throws a fry in her direction. Sarah rolls her eyes. Tommy starts telling a story about a former bandmate who once disappeared for three hours before a soundcheck in Detroit and came back wearing a cowboy hat and a black eye.

Joel leans back into the booth, your thigh pressed against his, your hand resting lightly on his …Tommy cuts in with a story about a motel from an old tour — something about a clogged sink, a dead possum, and a show they almost missed in Alabama. You’re halfway through laughing when Joel leans toward you and mutters, “Don’t believe half that shit.”

You do anyway. Or maybe you just like the way his voice sounds this close to your ear.

It’s chaotic. Easy. Real.

Across from you, Sarah offers Maria a bite of her scrambled eggs. “Want some? They’re weirdly fluffy.”

Maria’s already pushing her plate away, nose wrinkling. “God, no.”

Ellie cocks her head. “Don’t you usually order eggs?”

Maria opens her mouth to answer, but Tommy beats her to it.

“She can’t do eggs. Not since the nausea kicked in.”

The area stills.

Forks pause midair. Ellie blinks. Sarah’s eyebrow lifts.

Tommy’s eyes widen a half-second too late. “Shit.”

Bill doesn’t even look up. “You trying to announce it with a marching band or just word vomit?”

Maria sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Well. Surprise.”

Sam claps once, like someone just revealed the twist in a magic trick. Frank just grins and raises his mug.

Joel lets out a quiet breath beside you, amused. The corners of his mouth twitch.

Maria turns her head slowly and gives Tommy a look so flat and unamused that Joel’s impressed it doesn’t knock him out of his seat.

Tommy just shrugs, completely unfazed. “They were gonna figure it out eventually.”

Joel leans over the booth and pulls Maria into a hug first, then claps Tommy on the shoulder and pulls him in too.

“Congrats,” he says, quiet but solid. “Really.”

Frank sets his coffee down and raises an eyebrow. “So what’s Joel supposed to do when the baby starts crying? Growl at it until it shuts up?”

Tommy grins. “Please. He’ll sing it a Pearl Jam song.”

That gets a real laugh — full and loud. 

“Only if it’s acoustic,” Ellie throws in. “You saw his whole moody frontman bit earlier. That baby’s gettin’ a lullaby and a solo.”

Joel doesn’t respond right away. Just shifts back into the booth, his hand brushing against yours under the table.

Then Bill, flat as ever, adds: “She better be careful. Last thing you need is him throwing out his back during diaper duty.”

That earns another round — even Maria smirks this time. Joel just mutters, “I’m right here,” but it’s barely a protest.

And under all of it — the teasing, the warmth, the noise — something quieter settles in him.

Not regret. Not fear. Just the quiet awareness that this is a world still moving forward, and he’s not sure yet how he fits in it.

He rests his hand on your thigh — a little heavier this time.

Grounding himself. Holding on.

You feel the shift in his body.

Not dramatic. Just a pause — a small stillness beneath your hand, the kind that comes from something hitting too close.

He doesn’t respond to the jokes. Just lowers his eyes to his plate, the weight of his hand still resting on your leg under the table. Still, but no longer moving.

You glance over. He’s already looking at you.

The look is quick. Brief. But there’s something heavy behind it.

He doesn’t say much after that.

His thumb traces slow circles around the rim of his coffee cup while conversation swells around him. Sarah’s handing Ellie a baby name app, half-joking but already invested. Tommy leans into Maria, grinning about something from earlier. Frank’s debating “cool uncle” criteria with Sam, while Bill rolls his eyes across the booth.

Everyone’s in motion.

But Joel sits in it.

Quiet. Watching. Thinking.

We just got back on track.What if this is where we fall out of step again?

He glances at you — you, laughing gently at something Sarah said, your whole posture softer than it’s been in weeks. There’s light on your face. A kind of ease he hasn’t seen in a while.

You’re younger. That’s always been true. But tonight, the difference feels wider. Not just in age, but in possibility. In time. Your life feels open — like you’re still choosing where it goes. And he’s already walked most of his, full of turns he can’t undo.

And then there’s everything else.

He’s not movie-famous. But he’s recognizable. Musicians, tabloids, forums — there’s always a camera somewhere. Always someone watching. And if they knew about you — really knew — it wouldn’t stop at him.

They’d come for you, too.

They’d pick you apart for being younger. For working with him. For sleeping with someone who carries decades and damage and a reputation he doesn’t always like living in.

He can take it. He’s used to it.

But you?

He doesn’t want your name dragged into headlines. Doesn’t want people assigning meaning to your choices, twisting your character into something they can argue about in a comment section.

He doesn’t want to be the reason something good gets harder for you.

He doesn’t want to be what you compromise for.

And he sure as hell doesn’t want to look back in a few months and wonder if holding on meant holding you back.

His thumb stills on the coffee cup.

He’s never been good at these kinds of conversations. At asking for clarity before the silence does the talking for him.

But this time, he knows — he can’t go back to shutting down.

Not anymore.

The check comes.

Joel doesn’t wait for it to hit the table. Just catches the waitress’s eye, gives her a small nod. Quick. Easy. Not showy.

She knows what it means.

Not just your table. All of it.

Every plate still half-full. Every quiet conversation winding down. The couple in the corner. The truckers near the window. The family with the toddler in the high chair fighting sleep.

He covers them all.

He doesn’t tell anyone. Doesn’t want a moment made out of it. He’s not looking to be thanked, and if no one notices at all — better.

Fame’s never done much for him. He’s had it long enough to know how loud and useless it can be.

But the money? The freedom to make someone else’s night a little easier — that’s the part that means something. That’s what he’ll take. What he’s proud of.

He’s never cared about legacy, not the kind people put in magazines. He just wants to be useful. To do right. Quietly, if he can help it.

He glances across at you.

You’re leaning into Sarah’s space, smiling at something on her phone. That half-crooked grin is back — still soft around the edges, like you haven’t quite remembered how to carry it yet. But it’s there.

And he thinks, God, I wish you’d known this part of me sooner.

Not the version on stage. Not the one people speculate about online or see through a camera lens. Just this. Him, at the end of a long day, buying someone else’s dinner without a word.

Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long for you to feel like you could trust him.

He knows what’s coming. The conversation. The decision you haven’t spoken out loud yet.

And he’s scared — not of you leaving, but of being the thing that keeps you from going.

You’ve got so much ahead of you. He can see it. The ambition in your spine, the way you light up when you talk about what’s next.

He doesn’t want to dull that. Doesn’t want to be a name you carry like weight.

He wants to support you. Wherever you go. However it looks. Even if that means learning to stand a little further back.

And if he’s lucky — if there’s room — maybe you’ll still let him stand beside you.

Not as the frontman or as the story. Just as the man who kept your hand warm under a diner table, hoping you’d still want it there by morning.

—---------------------------------------------

The vans pull into the hotel’s roundabout, headlights sweeping across the quiet lot.

Everyone moves slowly now. Full, sleepy, content in that after-diner haze.

Sarah’s mid-yawn, still talking to Maria, who’s walking a little slower now, Tommy’s arms wrapped protectively around her in that subtle, protective way. Henry and Sam break off toward the elevators, still mid-conversation about being sure to call their mom as soon as they get in.

Sarah hugs you first, warm and brief. Then she leans in and presses a kiss to Joel’s cheek.

“Night, old man.”

Joel huffs, but doesn’t argue. He ruffles Ellie’s hair and sends her on her way as well. 

One by one, the group thins out. Elevator doors close. Hallway lights dim. The buzz of travel day exhaustion settles over everything.

You and Joel stay behind.

Lingering at the curb under the low awning lights, where the night hums quiet and heavy.

He’s doing that thing again — staring off. Jaw tight. Hands flexing at his sides like he’s trying to squeeze the words out without saying them.

You bump his arm gently.

“Wanna walk a little?”

He looks over at you, eyes deep brown, tired but steady. 

You nod toward the quiet path that curves around the pool courtyard. String lights flicker above the hedges. The water reflects the sky in soft blues and golds.

Joel nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That sounds good.”

You and Joel walk slowly around the curve of the pool courtyard, your footsteps quiet against the stone path. Overhead, strings of soft white lights flicker between the palm trees, casting a golden wash over everything. The breeze stirs the air gently, warm but edged with the faintest chill.

You don’t say anything at first.

Joel’s shoulders are tense beneath his dark shirt, broad and a little hunched like he’s holding something in. His hands are loose at his sides, but his jaw’s set, and his boots scuff slower than usual.

You reach out and slip your hand into his. His palm is warm and rough, callused in the way only years of guitar strings and life can make them. He gives your hand a small squeeze. 

“You’ve been quiet since the diner,” you say, voice low.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Reckon I’ve got a lot in my head right now.”

You let that settle. He exhales hard through his nose, like the words are pressing up against his ribs.

Joel walks beside you in silence for a few steps, then exhales — quiet, almost to himself.

“Everyone givin’ me shit back there,” he mutters. “About bein’ the old guy. Uncle Joel. All that.”

You glance over, but he keeps his eyes ahead. His voice softens.

“It’s not that I don’t want kids. Ain’t like I’ve sworn it off or nothin’. I just… I’ve already done it once, y’know?”

He slows a little, footsteps steady on the gravel path.

“The long nights. The worry. The way it stretches you thin in ways you don’t see comin’. I know what it takes.”

You look up at him. The lines around his eyes sit deeper in this light. There’s stubble along his jaw, a little heavier than usual. He looks so beautiful like this. 

“I’m not sayin’ I couldn’t do it again,” he adds, quieter now. “But I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared to. Scared I wouldn’t be enough for all that. For you.”

He finally looks over at you. His expression isn’t guarded, it’s open in a way Joel rarely lets himself be. Like he’s handing it to you and hoping you’ll know what to do with it.

“I just don’t wanna be the reason you look back ten years from now and wonder what you gave up.”

You stop walking. Joel does too.

The pool glows behind you, soft and quiet, flickering faint patterns against his shoulders. The air between you shifts gently, settling into something deeper, heavier.

“I don’t need a baby tomorrow, Joel.”

Your voice isn’t sharp—just steady, clear.

“But someday? Yeah. Maybe. And I can’t plan that kind of future with someone who’s afraid to tell me what he wants.”

His mouth opens, then closes again without a word.

You take a step closer, your voice dropping lower. More careful.

“You don’t have to give me answers tonight. But you have to promise me you’ll be direct—no shutting down, no running. If we’re gonna do this, you have to tell me what you’re feeling, even if it scares you. I just need to know you’re not ruling things out before we’ve even started.”

Joel looks down, the muscle in his jaw tightening, then easing again as he finally looks back up at you. His voice comes out softer now, but sure.

“I see everything with you.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty. But you don’t look away.

“Yeah?” you say softly.

Then, quieter, a half-smirk pulling at his lips. “White picket fences. PTA meetings. Neighbors named Carol who bring over lemon bars unprompted.”

Then, quieter, a half-smirk pulling at his lips.

“White picket fences. PTA meetings. Neighbors named Carol who bring over lemon bars unprompted.”

You snort.

“Great. Now I’ve gotta pretend to like lemon bars to keep suburban peace.”

Joel’s gaze drops to your mouth, voice lower now — rougher at the edges.

“You pretend with Carol. I’ll give you somethin’ better to taste later.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s useless — the heat in your chest already rising.

Then you lean into him, catching his mouth in a kiss that’s deeper this time. Slower. Anchored in everything unsaid between you.

His hand finds your waist. Yours slide up into his hair.

And for a few long seconds, there’s nothing but the quiet sound of the water nearby, the faint flicker of the string lights above, and the press of his mouth fully on yours — like he’s done holding back.

He pulls back only enough to murmur quietly against your lips.

“I’m just scared I’ll fuck it up.”

You press your forehead to his, fingertips resting lightly against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your hand.

“You won’t,” you whisper. “And even if you do, you’ve got me. We’ll figure it out day by day. That’s all I need.”

You keep walking, the weight between you quieter now. Not lifted, exactly, but shared.

The suite is quiet when you step inside. Low lamp light spills gold across the carpet. Somewhere outside, city sounds drift up through the glass, muffled by distance and thick hotel curtains. You slip your shoes off by the door, toes curling against the cool floor. Joel turns the lock behind you with a soft click and doesn’t move for a moment.

You’re not sure who decides you’re spending the night together. Maybe neither of you does. Maybe it just happens — a silent agreement, like slipping back into something that always fit. A rhythm that never really left

Joel shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over a chair. You let your bag slide from your shoulder, forgotten the moment it hits the floor.

When you look up, he’s watching you, and eyes dark.

You take a slow step forward. He doesn’t move, but his gaze tracks you the whole way.

You reach for him. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of his shirt again, the way they had earlier, but this time there’s no question left in the touch.

He lifts his arms and lets you peel the fabric away.

You close the space between you. The kiss is soft. Familiar. But different. His hands settle at your waist. You breathe him in — that clean scent beneath the warm skin. It’s grounding. 

He undresses you slowly. His eyes trace you with quiet focus, like he’s trying to memorize what it means to be this close again, to be allowed here.

When you climb onto the bed, he follows — knees sinking into the mattress, settling between your legs.His eyes lock with yours. His hands brace on the bed, one on either side of your thighs. You reach up and cradle his face in your hands.

His beard scratches your palms, familiar in a way that softens everything inside you. His skin is warm. His jaw tense. His eyes already a little glassy, like this is undoing him in real time.

“I’m still here,” you whisper, peppering kisses onto his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You feel he way something loosens inside him. His body comes toward you like he finally believes he’s allowed to want again.

You guide his cock between your legs, your hand trembling just slightly from how badly you want it — how badly you want him. He’s already thick, heavy, and when you rub the head through your slick folds, Joel groans through gritted teeth like he’s barely holding on.

When he finally pushes in, it’s slow and deliberate. Your breath catches. The stretch is deep and familiar, just this side of too much, and perfect. He presses into you like he never left, like he belongs there.

Your thighs instinctively tighten around him, your body pulling him in greedily, clinging to the weight and heat of him like it’ll anchor you to this moment.

Joel exhales, a hard breath dragged from somewhere deep. He drops his forehead to yours, staying buried to the hilt for a long, quiet beat.

Every muscle in his body goes tight like he’s trying to feel every inch of you.

"You feel so fuckin' good," he murmurs, voice thick and low against your lips. "Been thinkin' about this. About you. Missed this pussy."

The words tear a broken sound from your throat, and your hands fly to his shoulders. Your nails drag lightly down his back, not hard but enough to make him hiss.

He starts to move, slow and deep. Each thrust is steady, measured, drawing your body open around him in a way that makes your breath catch on every inhale. It feels so good you ache with it. That heavy, perfect drag, the sweet ache of being stretched and filled and known.

Joel groans when he feels you squeeze around him.

"That it?" he mutters, one hand sliding down your thigh.

Without breaking rhythm, he lifts your leg and hooks it around his waist. The new angle sinks him even deeper, thick and unrelenting. Your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parting around a gasp.

"Yeah," he breathes, holding you there. "That's it. Right there."

"Yes," you gasp, hips chasing his. "Fuck, yes. Right there."

His rhythm builds, steady and deliberate. Each thrust presses into that spot just right, pulling soft, helpless noises from your lips. You meet him stroke for stroke, chasing the feeling, the friction, the closeness. His body stays locked to yours like he's afraid to lose the connection.

You shift again, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him as close as your body will allow. Joel lowers himself more, bracing one forearm near your head as his chest grazes yours. His skin is hot and damp, flushed from effort and need.

His mouth finds your jaw, your neck, the soft curve of your shoulder. His lips drag over you like he’s claiming it, like he can’t stop tasting what he almost lost.

"Missed this," he breathes against your skin. "Missed you."

You reach for his face, cradle his cheek, thumb brushing through the coarse edge of his stubble. When he looks at you, his eyes are wide and blown, pupils dark and endless. There’s no mask left, no guardedness. Just Joel. Raw. Open.

"Don’t stop," you whisper.

His hips roll slower, deeper, dragging the pleasure out. He wants you to feel all of it. Every inch. Every second. You do.

Your body tightens around him, muscles tensing, the pleasure coiling in your belly so hot and sharp it almost hurts. You can't keep your voice in. A whimper breaks from your throat and you feel yourself clench again.

Joel knows. He can feel how close you are.

His hand moves between you, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. He touches you like he knows your rhythm, like he’s spent months memorizing how to bring you back to yourself.

"You’re close," he rasps, his voice gravel at your ear. "Can feel it."

You nod, jaw slack, your moans slipping free.

"Let go for me," he says, quieter now, coaxing. "Wanna feel you come on me. Need it, baby. Just like that."

You break open.

The orgasm rips through you, fast and hot, shattering against him. Your body locks up around his, your back arching, your mouth open in a sound that’s half his name, half surrender. You clench around him tight, over and over, the wave crashing hard through your core.

Joel doesn’t stop. He stays with you, hands braced on either side of your hips, murmuring low, steady things into your skin. His body moves like he’s keeping you tethered, not letting you drift.

As it fades, you shift beneath him, still catching your breath, and gently press at his chest. He follows your cue without hesitation, slipping onto his back. You climb over him and sink down again, taking him back inside in one slow glide.

The sound Joel makes is wrecked.

Your hands flatten against his chest, the familiar slope of his stomach rising under your touch. He watches you, eyes locked on where you move above him, then dragging up to your face like he’s afraid to blink.

"Jesus," he mutters, his voice unsteady. "You’re gonna kill me."

You roll your hips slow, dragging him deeper. Grinding against him in long, deliberate strokes. You’re still trembling, still sensitive, but the need hasn’t left. It’s only changed shape — into something deeper, more desperate. You don’t want to let him go. You want to keep him buried inside you. You want to feel him.

His hands grip your waist like he’s trying to keep himself from unraveling.

You lean forward, your breasts pressing to his chest, your mouth brushing his ear. 

His hands slide to your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts up to meet you. He’s close. You can feel the tension coiling in him, the way he’s losing the ability to hold back.

You kiss his throat, his jaw, his mouth.

And then, soft and clear:

"I’m yours, Joel. Come inside me."

That’s all it takes.

He groans loud against your neck, his arms locking tight around your back. He thrusts up once, twice, and then holds — body tensing under yours as he spills into you, deep and full.

You feel his nose press into your throat, his breath stuttering in your ear. The groans that follow are low and hoarse, pulled straight from the center of him.

He comes hard, your name pressed into your skin like a prayer, like he needs you to know it’s always been you.

And then he goes still.

He doesn’t pull out.

He stays where you are, still inside, still holding you, one arm curled around your waist, the other moving slowly up your spine.

His chest rises and falls beneath yours. Your skin is sticky, bodies warm, tangled in the hush between heartbeats.

He shifts after a few moments of silence, still careful, easing you down into the sheets with him. One arm tucks under your neck, the other wraps low around your waist as he pulls you into him.

You go willingly, settling into the shape of him like your body already knows the rhythm, the space he makes for you. Like it never forgot.

His hand moves through your hair, slow and gentle, fingers curling at the base of your scalp in quiet circles. He doesn't say anything. Just breathes. Just holds.

There’s a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the sex. Something quieter. Something that lives behind your ribs and makes it hard to move.

And then he leans in.

You feel his mouth at your hairline, just above your temple, and his voice follows — soft, scratchy.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, “I love you.”

Your body stills.

Not because you didn’t know. But because hearing it like that from him makes everything ache a little more. It’s not flashy or poetic. It’s not even fully planned.

It’s Joel. Quiet and unsure and honest.

And for a second, you can’t breathe. You’ve heard those words before from others, in other beds, in other lives. But never like this. Never earned like this. Never spoken like they came with fear and hope laced in the same breath.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even look at you.

Like if he gives you too much space, you might pull away.

And for a moment, you’re stunned by how deeply he must have felt it to say it out loud. To say it now.

You close your eyes. Let the moment sit inside your chest, heavy and bright.

You could stay right here forever.

But you know this moment — this tour — is fleeting. And while you want Joel in all the ways that matter, want him beyond tour buses and hotel rooms, you know you can’t stay suspended in this bubble. You have to face what’s waiting beyond it.

And so does he.

You roll to face him.

Joel’s eyes meet yours, wide and searching, his jaw locked tight. You see it immediately — the panic tucked just beneath the surface, the flicker of fear that he’s said too much, that he’s scared you off by giving something real.

You lean in and kiss him. No hesitation. No fanfare. Just firm and steady, the kind of kiss that says I heard you. And I’m still here.

Then you say it. Soft. Certain.

“I love you too.”

He goes still.

And then — like something inside him lets go — he exhales. His whole body softens in one slow breath, his shoulders losing their tension, his hand brushing gently across your back like he doesn’t quite believe you’re still here.

When he blinks, you catch it: the shimmer in his eyes, the tear he doesn’t try to hide this time. Another follows, quiet and slow. Not broken. Just full.

Joel Miller, the brooding rockstar who carries the weight of everything and never lets it show, is looking at you like he doesn’t know how to carry this. Like your love just cracked something open in him he didn’t know was locked.

“Long as I’m breathin’, I’ll take care of you,” he says, voice low and rough, breaking a little at the edges. “I’ll make you so happy.”

You reach for his face. Your thumb brushes under his eye, catches the tear before it can trail too far.

“You already do,” you whisper.

And then he smiles wider than you’ve ever seen. A real, full smile that pushes up into his cheeks and softens the lines around his eyes. There’s something boyish in it, something unburdened and bright, like a flash of the kid he used to be before life got to him.

It hits you in the chest that Joel Miller could still smile like this and you could be the cause of it.

You feel your own mouth pulling up, involuntary. And then you both laugh, quiet and breathless, forehead to forehead like you’re trying not to wake the world outside the sheets.

The sound is light, easy. Joy wrapped in disbelief.

He looks at you like you gave him this. Like he doesn’t know how to hold it but he’s trying anyway.

And you look back like you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

He pulls you in again, his chest against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head like he’s not ready to let go of this. Of you.

You kiss him again.

Slower this time. Softer. Less about saying I love you too, and more about holding onto the warmth of it. Letting it settle in your chest and his. Letting it become real.

But even as his mouth lingers on yours, even as his hands smooth gently over your waist, the weight of what you haven’t said yet presses in behind your ribs.

You almost don’t want to speak. Almost want to pretend this is the only truth that matters. That love can stretch far enough to hold everything else, if you just don’t name it.

But that’s not how this works.

Not with him.

Not with you.

You pull back just slightly, lips still brushing his.

“And I’m taking the job.”

His breath catches. It’s a small thing, but you feel it. The way his body tenses beneath you, how his hand stills at your hip. The way his chest stops moving mid-rise, like he’s waiting for something to break.

But he doesn’t let go.

You press your palm gently to his chest, right over the place where his heartbeat thuds against your skin.

“I’m not choosing it instead of you,” you say. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “I’m choosing both. And I want to figure it out together. I want us.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just breathes.

His eyes stay locked on yours. You can see the gears turning in them, slow and serious — not shutting you out, not panicking. Just working through it the way he always does. One beat at a time.

Then he nods.

“Okay.”

Just that.

But it settles between you like a promise. Like a door that didn’t close after all.

You shift closer, your body sliding up against his, and tuck your head beneath his chin. One hand curls lightly at his chest, where his heartbeat is still steadying. His arms wrap around you again, tighter this time, like something in him just unclenched.

He didn’t ask if you were staying. You didn’t ask if he would follow. But in the way he holds you, in the quiet that wraps around you both, you know the answer anyway.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel it — the stillness that comes from being chosen, and the comfort of choosing each other back.

Not just for tonight. But for whatever comes next.

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter eight

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: a quiet night in with joel and ellie wc: 3.8k THIS IS A SHORTER CHAPTER SORRY BUT I PROMISE THE NEXT LIKE 3 WILL BE LONG AND WORTH IT- rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, fluff, reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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VIII. TO BUILD A HOME

There is a house built out of stone Wooden floors, walls and window sills Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust This is a place where I don't feel alone This is a place where I feel at home

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?!”

You’ve never seen the way Ellie looks at Joel right now before, the way she speaks to him with so much malice in her voice. You have no choice but to nervously look between the two of them, sitting on opposite ends of each other—Ellie glaring and yelling at Joel in such an accusatory way. It scares you enough to sit in silence and simply watch the two of them hash out their frustrations.

“Ellie… I’ve been tellin’ you for the past twenty god damn minutes. All I have is seven draw 4 cards and two green cards, and you keep changin’ the damn color to blue. I don’t got no fuckin’ blue!”

“Yeah? Well I do! All I have is blue because you keep making me draw more fucking cards dude.” She lets out a frustrated huff before shaking her head and closing her eyes for a moment before continuing. “Who even shuffled this fucking deck in the first place?”

“You did!” You and Joel yell.

Ellie begins opening and closing her mouth, fumbling to find a response. “Yeah? Well… you guys shouldn’t have let me do that!”

The three of you sit around the coffee table set up in Joel’s living room while music plays softly in the background coming from the vinyl Joel had set up earlier in the night—snacks and drinks are scattered across the table, and each of you hold your own hand of cards. Ellie had found some old Uno cards at Maria and Tommy’s board game collection the other week, and thought it would be a fun idea for the three of you to play a round of Uno.

The “fun” part ended over an hour ago.

Nights like these have become a regular in the time that has passed since your injury. The following day, after Joel had stitched you up, word had gotten back to Ellie when Dina had shared what had happened to you and Jesse on patrol. That night, Ellie had knocked on your door and demanded she spend the evening hanging out with you, with Joel accompanying. You’d said yes, because since when have you ever been able to say no to her, and that first night was spent watching some movie the two of them seemed to always be watching—Curtis and Viper, the second one, specifically. From that day on, your days of the week were spent with Joel and Ellie more often than not. Trading between watching a movie, playing a board game, or making dinner and talking for hours, whether it was at your place or Joel’s.

You watch as Ellie puts down another draw 2 on your turn and you mutter out, “Oh my god,” looking at your own hand of cards that you had to lay out on the floor beneath your side of the table thirty minutes ago, because it was becoming too much to hold.

Grabbing your empty glass of wine, you move to stand up, throwing your other hand out in surrender. “Nope. That’s it. I’m done. If I pick up one more fucking red card, I’m gonna let the clickers get me.”

Receiving a dismissive reaction from the two of them, you walk into the kitchen to pour yourself your third—wait, no, fifth glass of wine for the evening. You let your eyes lazily pass over the kitchen island scattered with empty plates and glasses that you all had used over the course of the night. Heading back into the living room, you see the two people you have grown fond of still sitting there playing that god forsaken game. 

Joel stares at his own cards in intense concentration. You’ve always known he was stubborn, but tonight you learned he is also competitive. That wouldn’t be much of an issue, if it weren’t for the fact that Ellie, too, is both stubborn and very competitive. They both have taken the game much more seriously than you have—the two of them taking more time than you would think one would need on their turn to really figure out what the best play is.

Ellie groans. “Dude, can you just let me fucking win so we can end this shit?”

Joel shakes his head with a frown and a half-offended look. “Hell no I’m not just lettin’ you win, kid. You wanted to do this tonight so this is what we’re doing.”

The teenager throws her head back, letting out a sound that’s been a groan and a dramatic broken sob until she looks at you after calling your name. “Please, please make this end. Please make him stop, I’m begging you!”

Settling back down onto the carpet, you give her a small laugh before looking over at Joel. “Come on, Joel, she’s been through enough—we’ve been through enough of this. Just let her win.”

Joel gives you a look of betrayal as you side with Ellie, before you look at him desperately saying one more please. You watch as his resolve crumbles after only mere seconds of you pulling your best puppy dog eyes on him—the alcohol you’ve been drinking warming your cheeks and making you act more theatrical. 

Sighing out with a shake of his head and a muttered, “Unbelievable,” Joel throws his cards onto the table. “There, you win. Happy now?”

“But I didn’t get to say Uno!”

You can’t help but laugh as you mindlessly swirl the wine in your glass. Looking at Ellie incredulously, Joel groans and grits his teeth before asking her what colors and numbers she has, letting her put her cards down one by one before shouting, Uno, and slamming her final card down onto the deck. “Ha! I won!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, Joel lets out a sigh of relief at the game ending. You can’t help but giggle at his exhaustion, watching as he looks up at Ellie and points at her accusingly. “Low fuckin’ blow gettin’ her involved with your beggin’,” he says, turning his finger to point at you.

Ellie shrugs with a smirk. “Hey, I gotta do what I gotta do.”

Joel exasperatedly shakes his head, but you catch the soft huff of laughter he lets out under his breath. Looking over at the clock hung above his fireplace, he tells Ellie, “Alright, kiddo—it’s time for you to head to bed. I’ll walk you over to your room.”

Receiving only a few groans of reluctance from her, you say goodnight and goodbye to Ellie, watching as Joel walks her over to their backyard. A few months ago, Joel had cleaned out his garage and set up her own little space in there. Back when he first started working on it, he had said something about her recently turning seventeen and wanting to give her a better sense of independence without having her too far away so that he couldn’t keep an eye on her.

You take the time to clean up the mess the three of you had made—making sure that all the cards are back in the tattered old box, clearing the coffee table of your glasses and of any stray pieces of food that may have fallen to the floor. In the process, you take the time alone to really feel the effects of the red wine you’ve been nursing all night—your stomach feeling warm and your face flushed. 

You’re in the kitchen washing the empty wine glasses you and Joel had been drinking from, when you hear the back patio door open and Joel walks into the doorway. For a moment, he looks at you with a small smile as he leans casually against the doorframe. Once his eyes drop down to your hands in the sink, he walks over with a pout. “You don’t need to be doin’ that, darlin’.”

You look up at him as you rinse out the soap from the glasses. “Nah, I don’t mind. I happen to like washing dishes if you’d like to know.”

He raises an eyebrow at that before picking up the kitchen towel set on the counter beside the sink, and begins drying the now clean glasses. “Oh, really?”

Giving him a soft hum, you tease, “Sure do. Although, you wouldn’t know that because you never let me do any cleaning or maintenance myself.”

At that, he laughs. “Alright, touché. But it’s not like I don’t let you do those things…”

He trails off when he sees you give him a deadpan look. Laughing harder, he says, “I just like doin’ things for ya. Don’t want you to have to be doin’ anythin’ that I’m more than capable of myself—includin’ dishes. Besides, you shouldn’t be movin’ too much with your shoulder.”

You throw your head back with a soft, yet annoyed groan. “Not this shit again.”

It had been almost three weeks since Joel had stitched up your wound. Despite being a tad sore if you strain it for too long, your shoulder was completely fine. You felt fully recovered, yet Joel had still been convincing Maria and Tommy to keep you off patrol for a few weeks—giving you some tasks around town to keep you busy and get you moving enough for you to flex your muscles. But Joel was still worried over your injury. So much so that he insisted on coming over multiple times over the days to help you with meaningless household chores, or bringing you things from the market. The most you were able to convince him to allow you to do was going on walks around town with him to shop, which he only agreed as long as you let him carry any items you were to bring home.

You set down the clean dishes onto his side, turning the water off before turning your whole body to look at him. “Joel,” you say, waiting for him to turn to look at you before you continue. “I am fine. I promise. Perfectly healed and it doesn’t hurt at all anymore, see?”

You lift your now-recovered arm all the way up to prove a point to him, but the speed of which you did so made you lose your balance slightly and stumble.

Joel’s reflexes kick in as he reaches out to try and catch you if you need to, but you quickly catch yourself by leaning your hip against the counter. You look up to see him giving you a lighthearted glare, noticing your own body was disproving your point. 

“Okay…” you say. “That doesn’t count. I’m a bit tipsy so my balance is off.”

Joel looks back at the empty bottle of wine on the island behind him, before his eyes widen to find a second bottle next to it that is nearly empty. “How many glasses did you drink, darlin’?”

You look at the ceiling, squinting your eyes as if to act like you were thinking before answering him. “Um, only like two… or five,” saying the last two words in a whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch it.

His eyes widen further before he puts down the dishes he was drying and turns to face you directly, grabbing your upper arms with his hands gently. “Sweetheart, I think you’re a lil’ past tipsy, and it’s only now catchin’ up to ya.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘sweetheart’ now, too?”

You hadn’t expected to say that out loud, but your mind was too fuzzy to stop yourself, or to catch the way Joel’s cheeks redden at you calling him out—not being mentally present enough to think about what you were saying.

He sighs, shaking his head lightly and offering a small smile before beginning to guide you out of the kitchen. “Let me walk ya home, alright?”

Your body catches up to your drunk mental state, and you let yourself be led out by Joel. You walk by his staircase before you remember something. “Oh! I lent Ellie one of my sweaters—do you know where it is?”

He nods. “Yeah, should be in the closet upstairs. I’ll go look for it real quick.”

“I got it–”

He shakes his head at you. “Darlin’, I do not trust you to walk up or down any steps right now.”

You roll your eyes at him, already walking up a couple of stairs before you turn back to him at the bottom of the stairs—your body twisted to look behind you, one arm holding onto the railing as you lean in close to his face below you. “Oh, come on, I’ll have to do it when I get home so I might as well practice here. Besides, you’ll catch me if I fall, won’t you, Miller?”

Your face inches away from Joel’s own, you watch his eyes linger on you, briefly flicking around your face. An unreadable expression washes over him—one that, had you been a little more cognizant, and if your vision wasn’t blurred at the edges, might’ve made your heart stutter for a moment. 

His features soften after his scan over you before he lets out a word in a soft whisper. “Always.”

Giving a nod of approval, you dramatically bring down your hand onto the railing of the staircase and slowly make your way up the rest of the steps. What you don’t notice is Joel's hand that hovers on your back as he walks two steps behind you the whole time.

Only stopping three times to look at the paintings that adorn the walls along the stairs, you reach the top and spot three doors a few feet in front of you. The one on the right, closest to you is barely ajar, but to the left is an open door to what looks like a small closet space—a single rack of clothes drying, with a large bucket underneath them. 

You spot your sweater and walk over, checking that it was dry before removing it off the hanger. Looking to your left, you see a closed door—probably Joel’s room, you think. 

You turn, holding the sweater up with a thank you as Joel starts to take down some of the other clothes in there, placing them in a laundry basket that sits outside the closet and against the wall. 

Joel turns back to you. “Of course. Let’s get you to your bed now, alright?”

Beginning to lead you back over to the staircase, you look at that first door you saw that was partially opened. The realization that you hadn’t seen any of Joel’s personal space doesn’t hit you as you take a peek into the room, something in the corner catching your eye.

Your eyes wide at the sight. “Is that a guitar?”

Joel turns to see that the door to what you assume is some sort of office space is halfway open, and a guitar is in view.

You look at him with a surprised smile, eyes wide with excitement, and see his demeanor has become shy and almost child-like for a moment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Um… yeah that’s, uh, that’s mine.”

Noticing that his gaze has turned down to the floor, you realize you may have come off as mocking. In an attempt to correct your reaction, you place a hand onto his arm, bending your head down to meet his gaze. “Do you play guitar?”

At the contact, he looks back at you to see your face is filled with genuine warm curiosity. Bashfully, he responds, “Yeah, I know how to play a bit.”

Your smile grows as you ask how long. He still seems somewhat vulnerable while he says, “Been playin’ since I was a teenager, really. Didn’t get the chance much for the past couple decades obviously, but when I got to Jackson, Tommy gave me one he’d found. Took some time to tune properly and fix ‘er up but she sounds pretty damn good.”

Looking off to the side with a reminiscing gaze, he adds, “I actually used to want to be a, um… a singer.” The words leave his lips hesitantly, as if trying to feel out what your response would be.

“No shit,” you speak up, wonder and giddiness filling you. At your words, he looks at you slightly startled, as if he didn’t intend to share that detail out loud. “That’s so…” you shake your head, trying to find the words without making him feel embarrassed. “Just… really cool. I didn’t know you played guitar.”

He gives a sheepish smile at your reaction and words. “Yeah, I don’t talk about it much, or really at all. Promised Ellie I’d teach her how to play when we got to Jackson.”

The realization hits you suddenly. “Oh my god—I knew she played because she’d talk about it and I’d see her guitar in her garage. I never knew you were the one who taught her.”

You can no longer discern the warmness you feel to be due to the wine… or Joel.

Joel breathes out what sounds like a laugh before he looks around for a second, seeming to realize you are still standing at the top of the steps, and begins to guide you over to them to walk down. “I better get you home. You need all the rest you can get tomorrow, because the followin’ day is our first patrol back together.”

You almost stumble at the bottom of the steps, looking up to see Joel smirking. Jokingly, you say, “Has Jackson’s very own Dr. Miller deemed me fit to go beyond the gates again?”

Joel walks past you to open the door—the slightly chilled air of the late night hits you, making you shudder. At your words, Joel laughs as the two of you begin walking across the street to your front door. “Yes, he has. Figured I forced you to spend enough time with me here that maybe you’d like a more open scenery to combat my face.”

“Hey, I happen to like looking at your face.”

You did it again. Said your inner thoughts out loud without realizing. Thankfully, if Joel heard you, he doesn’t make a comment on it. When you reach your front door, you open it and expect to turn to see Joel hovering on your porch to say goodnight. Instead, hear his footsteps cross the threshold and feel the warmth of his body close behind yours. Slightly shocked, but not uncomfortable, you look up at him with confusion before he says, “Wanna make sure you make it up those steps and into your room safely, if that’s alright?”

A smile sheepishly curls at the corner of your mouth as you nod, walking up your steps with him following close behind until you reach your bedroom door. At that moment, Joel speaks up to say, “You get changed and settled for the night, I’m gonna be downstairs for a second.”

Confused, you nod anyway, too tired and out of it to try and figure out what he is doing. You make your way to your bathroom and close the door behind you as you splash your face with water quickly, before heading back into your bedroom to change into your pajamas for the night.

As you’re putting your t-shirt over your head, you hear a knock on your bedroom door and walk over to open it, revealing Joel standing there with a glass of water and a couple of white pills in his hand.

Holding them up, he says, “Figured you’re gonna have a pretty nasty hangover in the mornin’, so, got ya a glass of water and some pain meds for tomorrow. That way it’s right there on your bedside when you get up.”

The idea of Joel thinking ahead for you like that seems to sober you up in the slightest—just enough for your stomach to flutter and your cheeks to turn red. “Thank you, that’s so thoughtful,” you softly mutter as you grab the items and go to place them on your bedside table.

Joel shrugs off your thanks, as if it wasn’t a big deal to him. He looks behind him to your stairs briefly before back at you, saying, “You alright if I lock up behind me so you can go straight to sleep?”

After the incident a few weeks ago, which resulted in your door being broken down, you felt bad for worrying him. So, you offered to give him a spare key to your house in case he needed to get in due to anything bad happening. You felt good about the decision—trusting him enough to let him have open access to your private space in case of emergency. In return, he had given you a key to his place as well, saying at the time, “You come over anytime you need me, got it? Don’t care what time it is. You come to me for anythin’.”

You nod in response to him, assuring him you were set for the night. You stand there thinking for a moment, watching him begin to turn around and walk away, before saying, “Hey, Joel?”

He looks at you with a soft frown as he waits for your next words.

“Do you… do you think you could play guitar for me one day?”

His eyes widen in the slightest, small surprise covering his features as you assume he hadn’t expected that question out of you.

His silence makes you think you crossed some sort of line, causing you to look at the floor before you begin rushing out, “You don’t have to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I know it’s probably a bonding moment between you and Ellie–”

“Sure.”

You look up to see a smile on his face and a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place—one similar to what you briefly remember seeing on the staircase at his house. Then, you notice his hand move from his side and look down to see him raise his right hand in front of you, extending out his pinky finger with a smirk on his face.

You stifle a laugh as you twist your lips to the side, bringing your hand to link your fingers together and shake. 

He drops your hand with a soft laugh. “You let me know if you think of any song requests, yeah?”

You match his smirk. “You got it, Miller.”

Joel turns his body around, heading out the room to walk downstairs before looking back at you one more time. “Sleep well, darlin’.”

“You too, Joel.”

Standing in your bedroom doorway, you watch and listen as he makes his way down your stairs, hearing him open and close the door behind him before you hear the soft sound of the lock turning.

You turn and walk over to your bed, settling in and laying down. Sleep finds you quickly as your dreams are filled with the sounds of a soft guitar playing.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: sorry for the shorter chapter! I had grad school orientation yesterday that lasted 12 hours😵‍💫 and I had to spend the week doing all the modules lol. the next few chapters will be much longer, I promise. also some of my fav chapters coming up ;) 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @lcvespedro @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63 (if i missed any tags pls let me know!)

[strawbrrychai]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter seven

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: your conversation with maria has you secluding yourself while you deal with your realizations, but what happens when you get injured and joel can’t find you? wc: 6.9k (6901 words exactly... nice) rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, fluff, angst, mild gore (injury-based), mentions of blood, miller brother bonding, perhaps a joel pov?? (who knows, teehee), reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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VII. RENEGADE 

Is it insensitive for me to say Get your shit together? So I can love you Is it really your anxiety That stops you from giving me everything? Or do you just not want to?

The conversation you had with Maria earlier in the week had you reeling, to say the least. Did Joel like you that way? Did you like him like that? Surely not, right?

Then why the fuck have you been avoiding him?

It was unintentional at first, you tell yourself. The following day after you saw Maria, you didn’t have patrol, and Joel had to go join Tommy for his outing. Then, the next few days you asked to have off—said you were sick. Which… wasn’t a total lie. You definitely didn’t feel good or normal.

Joel had come knocking on your door the day you had told the others you weren’t feeling well. “Tommy said you wouldn’t be joinin’ me for patrol the next few days. Said you’re sick,” he had said. You had kept him on your porch, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible while feigning a cough. You remember his face showing confusion mixed with concern before he’d given you a bowl of something. “Ellie made it for ya after I told her. Said she hopes you feel better soon.”

Did she make it, you wondered, or was he using her as his excuse again?

Having quickly taken it from him, you said your thanks and shut the door in his face, waiting a few moments behind the door to hear his footsteps walk away. You could tell he had hesitated—waiting by your door for a few moments, concerned, before turning around and making his way down your walkway. After that, you ignored any visits you had—brushing people off through the door and assuring them that you were fine.

It felt pathetic, honestly. Only a few months ago, you were frustrated with Joel’s own avoidance of you after your argument. Now, here you were, doing everything you could to keep a distance from him.

That day Joel came with soup was three days ago, and you knew you couldn’t fake being sick for too long. So, you decided you needed to spend some time past the gates today, hoping to go by yourself and stopping at Jackson’s bar, Tipsy Bison, on the way to grab some food beforehand. It was midday on a Saturday, which you know is usually when Tommy and Joel are there. And that’s totally fine—you’re capable of facing him.

You open the door and are immediately hit with the noise level of the place being so busy. Before you even take a full step inside, your eyes lock onto Joel who was sitting at the bar, staring at you as if he felt your presence being there. You freeze and watch him immediately sit up straight, as if moving to greet you, his face lit up with a rare smile. The sight makes you fight to suppress your smile, just from seeing Joel’s reaction to your presence. That damn odd, warm feeling returns, and suddenly that happiness you first feel when seeing him shifts into shame—shame that you’ve been depriving yourself of this for so long.

Taking a deep breath to try and compose yourself, you step into the place and make your way over to the pair of brothers sitting at the bar. Tommy follows Joel’s gaze until he lands on you, his face lighting up with a similar warm greeting.

“Hey there, honey. You been feelin’ alright?”

You smile in response to Tommy’s question. “Yeah, I feel much better, thank you,” you say, before moving your gaze to Joel’s, only to find him looking up at you sheepishly—a half-smile slowly upturning the corners of his mouth. 

“Hi, Joel.”

“Hey, darlin’. Glad to see you outta the house finally. I’d offer you to sit and join us for a drink, but Tommy and I were about to head over to the power plant to fix up a couple things.”

You try to force a smile before saying, “That’s alright. I was actually planning on heading out today. Saw a shop out west the other week that had some things I thought I'd like for my place, so I just came here to grab food before trying to join someone on patrol.”

At that, Joel frowns for a second before an idea seems to come to him. “How ‘bout you wait for tomorrow? I can go with ya first thing in the mornin’.”

You tense up at that and quickly try to come up with something to avoid having to wait. “No, that's alright. I’ve been cooped up all week and wanna get a chance to be outside as soon as possible. I don’t mind going out on my own.”

Joel’s frown deepens. “I don’t like the thought of you goin’ out there by yourself…”

Tommy quips up to interject with, “C’mon Joel, she’s an adult. She’ll be alright out past Jackson on her own for a bit. Area’s been clear for a while.”

Joel takes a second to turn to his brother with a sharp glare, and you grab the chance to speak up. “Yeah, plus the spot wasn’t too far away.”

Looking back at you, Joel’s mouth settles into a firm line, uneasiness feeling his features before he speaks up again—his tone leaving no room to argue with him. “I’ll go with ya in the mornin’. You shouldn’t be– I mean, no one should be goin’ out there on their own, no matter how safe it feels right now.”

Sighing in defeat and annoyance, you reluctantly agree—feeling scolded like a child.

Tommy looks between the two of you back and forth for a moment before tapping his hand on the bar table and standing up. “Well, we need to start headin’ out now. You take care of yourself, honey,” he says, patting your shoulder as he moves past you and heads out of the bar.

You look back to Joel who had just gotten up and was staring at you questioningly. “Meet you outside your place at 7 a.m. tomorrow, alright?” He says, though his voice phrases it as more of a statement than a question, causing you to reluctantly nod and stifle a pout as you watch him walk out of the bar.

Frustrated, you huff out a breath before ordering a sandwich to go, grabbing it and begin to head to the market stall down the street with the intent to get some produce and go back home obeyingly. On your way, you’re suddenly hit with that feeling of Joel treating you like a child—feeling like you aren’t to be trusted on your own. You stand there for a moment, fidgeting in place trying to figure out what to do. You feel that same stupid fucking feeling in your stomach you’ve felt all week and it was beginning to drive you insane. You realized isolating yourself in your house didn’t do what you wanted it to, and it felt like you were on the precipice of insanity. You had to get out. 

So you would.

Looking the other way, you make the decision to head in the opposite direction over to the stables. Stopping at the patrol board, you notice one of the newer, younger members that joined the crew, Jesse, was speaking to someone about his partner being late. You walk over to him, asking, “You on your own?”

He looks at you and sighs. “I guess. Damn guy was supposed to be here like thirty minutes ago. Fuck… I don’t want Maria to think I’m not capable out there if I’m irresponsible with the time.”

His concern makes you smile a bit. Though new, Jesse has proven himself to be incredibly responsible—always wanting to prove himself worthy of his role in the most sincere way possible. You hadn’t spoken with him much, but he was always kind and genuine.

Taking a quick glance at the board to see Jesse’s assignment and realize the area you wanted to check out was only a few miles past it. “Mind if I join?” You ask. “I got a spot I wanna stop at not far from your destination, and it’s smarter if I take someone with me. Only if you’re up for that?”

His face shows relief as he eagerly nods. “Yes, please. I don’t wanna wait too long for him, but I also don’t want to go on my own.”

You nod in response before getting set up to head out with Jesse. You told Joel you wouldn’t go out there alone, and you wouldn’t.

Joel knew something was going on with you, and it was starting to frustrate him—a gnawing feeling burrowing deeper and deeper into his skin as more and more time goes on without seeing you. He knew you were out for the week, but you ignored every one of his efforts to check on you. And now, he sees you for the first time in what felt like years to him, and it felt like you barely acknowledged him. His anxiety brewed, and he began to worry if he had done something and wasn’t aware—racking his brain through anything that’s happened but not recalling anything. Plus, Ellie would’ve told him if he did, or maybe you would’ve spoken to Tommy about it. At least he hopes you would. 

“Ya know, if you keep glarin’ hard enough, I think you’ll break the same pipes again with just your eyes,” Tommy says. 

Joel looks up from his task to scowl at his brother. “The fuck you mean?”

Tommy gestures to Joel with a wave of his hand. “Man, you’ve spent the past two hours glarin’ at anythin’ and everythin’ since we got ‘ere. Hell, ya almost bit off Eugene’s fuckin’ head when he asked if you wanted help grabbin’ the wrench,” he says with a laugh.

Joel grumbles before looking down and muttering, “M’not glarin’.”

What Joel misses is the doubtful look his brother gives him. “Yeah, sure ya aren’t. Just like you haven’t been a pain in my fuckin’ ass since the first day you didn’t get to see her.”

Joel looks sideways at Tommy. “Don’t know what you mean,” he lies.

Tommy looks at him pointedly before laughing. “Really? You mean you don't remember the times this week you’ve been pouncin’ on me every chance ya get, demandin’ to know if I’ve seen her?”

A grumble is the only response that comes from Joel, before Tommy presses further. “C’mon now, big brother. I’m not as blind as you when it comes to this shit. Usually you were the one better with women growin’ up—hell it got you a kid at the ripe age of sixteen.”

Joel gives Tommy a warning look for a moment before he sighs. “Yeah, well that was almost fourty fuckin’ years ago. Things change,” he says. “And I already told ya, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. I’m just… worried, ya know? Ain’t heard from her all week and then she just shows up wantin’ to venture out on her own? Figure someone should check on her—talk to her and see if she’s alright is all.”

Shrugging, Tommy says, “Think she just wasn’t feelin’ well, man. She was fine when she was with Maria earlier this week. Probably caught somethi–”

That seems to grab Joel's attention, and he cuts Tommy off, rushing out demands of, “Maria? What do you mean? Why was she over at your house? When was this?”

Tommy looks at him like he’s crazy. “Relax, Joel, they were just hangin’ out. She’s allowed to have other friends besides you, ya know? Hell, anyone would get sick of your ass if you were the only person they spent time with.” He scoffs humorously before deciding to push and tease his older brother a bit further. “Maybe Maria told her all your bullshit and she realized how fuckin’ crazy you are,” he says, laughing before folding up the blueprint on the table next to them. 

Joel freezes at that, dread filling his entire being.

Tommy seems to notice his brother’s silence and looks over at Joel’s nervous face. Sighing, Tommy tries to reassure him by saying, “Look, Maria wouldn’t… talk ‘bout that stuff, okay? It was just a joke, Joel. I’m sorry, alright?”

Joel flexes his jaw, nodding distractedly. He knows they wouldn’t talk to you about anything like that, but he holds anxiety at the thought of you hating him. The mere idea of it makes him sick.

Joel’s pulled from his thoughts quickly as he finishes tightening up the final pipe in the machine they’ve been working on for the past few hours. “Alright, I gotta go head out, and you need to go home and take a fuckin’ cold shower to help the anger I feel radiatin’ off you,” Tommy tells him.

Joel rolls his eyes, a soft grunt leaving his mouth as he straightens himself up, packing away the tools that were used and getting ready to head out.

As he follows Tommy out, his brother stops him with a grip on his shoulder. “Maybe try lettin’ her come to you—gives her the opportunity to open herself up to a social presence without feelin’ suffocated.”

Joel gives him a silent nod before parting ways as he heads home. Once he reaches his place, he sees none of the lights on in your home. His brows furrow at the thought, before figuring you were just around town shopping at the market or something. He’ll take his brother’s advice, as much as he doesn’t want to, and let you come to him.

But he can’t help thinking, where were you?

It was nighttime when Joel had left his house to get dinner. The moment he steps outside, as if on instinct, he’s immediately looking at your house to find any form of life in there. A piece of him feels relief when he sees the kitchen light on, as well as another in some upstairs window. 

Okay, you were home. He’d go to the mess hall to eat and bring you something as well to see how you were doing. He knows what Tommy said but… something in him pulls himself to be near you. Like a goddamn addict, he got one sight of you earlier today after a week of withdrawals, and needs something to help him make it to tomorrow when he’d see you.

On the way over to the mess hall, he sees Maria and one of the newer guys on patrol standing outside of the makeshift hospital in Jackson. Joel makes eye contact with Maria and watches her body language shift the moment she spots him—tensing herself if something bad has happened, and she doesn’t want him to know. 

His eyebrows come together before he marches up to them, catching the man she’s with saying your name in a hushed tone. Joel feels his heart pounding in his chest upon hearing the mention of you.

“Somethin’ happen?” He demands from Maria, formalities long forgotten.

She looks over at the new kid, who Joel vaguely remembers his name being Jesse, before sighing in resolve and answering him. “She… Look, she just decided to join Jesse for a last minute patrol thing.”

Jesse speaks up, guilt coating his voice. “I swear I didn’t mean for anything to happen. She said she just wanted to get out for a bit, and it was only gonna be a quick trip–”

Joel feels his stomach drop as ice fills his tone. “Where is she.” 

Maria sighs again, as if she didn’t want Jesse to speak up. “She said she’s fine, but she didn’t want to get checked out with the doctors. Said she could handle it herself and that she was just gonna head home and–”

Joel doesn’t give her a chance to finish speaking before he walks, no, runs to your house. 

You had been outside? Without him? Why would you do that? You promised him you’d wait till tomorrow morning like he asked.

Joel reaches your place in record time and begins pounding on your door while calling out your name. He waits a few moments and gets no response, his anxiety only growing as he begins shouting your name again, more frantic. “I know you’re home,” he says. “I see your damn lights on. Open the door, please?”

A minute in total passes with no response from you before panic completely consumes him. “Darlin’, just please come open this door for me, will ya?”

He reaches for the door handle and begins to aggressively shake it hoping to get it open, only to find it was locked—something he knew you remembered to do religiously. He picked up on it fairly quickly, how you had the habit of instantly locking your door the moment it was closed. Honestly, it was something that eased Joel’s worries of your safety at times. But now? Now he wishes you didn’t remember to lock it.

Reason leaves his mind completely as he begins banging his shoulder into your door repeatedly, hearing the cracking of the wood before managing to get the door open. Joel takes a quick look around your living room but sees no traces of you there. He makes his way into your kitchen, where the light he had seen earlier was still on. 

He marches in, quickly scanning the space but not finding anything until his eyes land on the floor behind your island counter. His whole body freezes as he sees water on the floor, and droplets of blood haphazardly covered by a kitchen towel. Fear reaches into his chest and wraps a fist around his heart, squeezing until the air gets sucked out of his lungs.

A soft clatter sounding from upstairs grabs Joel’s attention—his head snapping in the direction of the house, making a run towards the staircase stationed at the base of your entryway. He takes the steps practically three at a time until he pauses at the top of your staircase for a moment, realizing he’s never been in this part of your house. He doesn’t really know where you could even be.

To his right he sees a room with the door slightly ajar and thinks to check there first before he notices a very faint light in the room on the left with the door wide open. Rushing over, he walks into what he realizes is your bedroom but stops, confused when he doesn’t find you. Then, connected to your bedroom is another closed door where he sees light peeking out from the crack at the bottom, and hears faint cursing.

Joel crosses the short distance in quick strides and twists open the doorknob before barging into what appears to be your bathroom. His eyes widen, and he feels slight relief fill his lungs when he spots you. You’re sat on the side of your tub, wearing only a tank top and jeans, and staring at him with an expression that shows disbelief and slight annoyance. His relief at you being in front of him, alive and breathing, switches back to that fear from only minutes ago when he notices something else.

You were hunched over, wincing in pain as you held a wine-colored rag to your right shoulder. But it’s not wine, he realizes. No, it’s blood.

“What happened?” Joel breathes out.

“Dude, did you just break down my fucking door?”

“What. Happened.” 

You sigh, lightheartedly saying, “You know you’re gonna fix that shit for me, right? Fucking lucky you were the one who did it. If someone else had broken down my door I’d be way more pissed off.” The sound of Joel saying your name as a warning makes you look up to see the death glare on his face aimed at you.

Deciding to not joke anymore, you sigh and wince as you pull away the rag from your shoulder, allowing Joel access to view your wound. At the sight, Joel rushes over and kneels onto the ground in front of you, hands immediately coming up to gently examine the injury.

You try to brush away his concern. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

He gives you a pointed look, silently calling you out on your bullshit and making you sigh before saying, “I… I just wanted to get out, alright?”

Joel’s look of concern, and almost anger, slowly softens into something else before he gives a resigned exhale. “Darlin’, I told you to wait for me to come with you. I promised you I’d go with you in the mornin’.”

His words make you frown. A part of you told yourself you wanted to go out by yourself just because. Now, being faced with Joel in front of you, you begin to realize why you didn’t want to go with him.

You let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at the tile floor timidly before offering a half-assed reason. “I just, I wanted to do it now… I don’t know.”

Joel’s lips straighten into a firm line as he seems to hold back what he wants to say. Instead, he presses you about the cause of your wound.

“It’s stupid, okay? Just… We ran into two raiders–” 

At that, Joel straightens up and his eyes fill with rage before you rush to finish talking. “Don’t worry, we handled them. But, one of them shot me before I could reach for my gun. It went right through and it didn’t hit anything major. I figured I can just stitch it up myself here.”

Joel looks over to your shoulder to assess your wound. It really wasn’t that bad—not bad enough to bleed out, and you really could have been able to stitch it up yourself.

He sighs before taking the rag from your hand and dipping it into the bucket you had placed on the side of the tub. “Won’t need more than a few stitches it looks like,” he says, before frowning and looking at you again. “Ya know, we got doctors who can do this for you? Don’t need to be doin’ these things yourself anymore… Could’ve asked me,” Joel says, sounding timid and almost sad at the end.

You look at him softly, his face inches from yours as his entire body is leaned into you so he can get closer to your shoulder. “I guess I just wanted to do something myself…” The words sound so frail leaving you, as if they hold no real weight to them—your own voice betraying whether it believes the words you’re saying.

He keeps his eyes trained on your shoulder as he cleans the wound, not looking at you while he mutters, “You can just say you didn’t want me with you.”

Joel’s words make your body sag as you feel guilt—guilt for making him worry, guilt for breaking your promise to wait for him… guilt for avoiding him for so long. You don’t think you realized how bad it was, or how noticeable it was until you hear his voice in this moment, seeing the way his jaw clenches and his eyebrows twitch as he furrows them in concentration. 

You hurt him.

Shame fills you as you struggle to figure out what to say to him. It’s the same kind you felt this morning when you noticed how happy he seemed to be when he saw you. God, you were foolish to think you could get away with this. Stupid enough to even avoid him in the first place—as if it would solve anything, when in reality it made you feel worse. You suppose you didn’t realize just how much his absence in your life has affected you. An absence that you created.

You can’t find a response, so the two of you sit quietly as he finishes cleaning your wound—breathing being the only sounds coming from you both. Joel reaches down to grab the needle and thread from the first aid kit you had opened on your bathroom floor beside your feet, then breaks the silence.

“Should take me just a few minutes to get this stitched up,” he says.

You nod—your mind elsewhere until you find the strength to speak to him finally, reaching your hands up to his own with the intention of taking over. “I can do that bit. You don’t need to be spending any more time kneeling on the floor–”

“Can you just let me do this?”

Joel’s eyes make contact with yours as he frustratedly speaks up, the firmness in his voice making your mouth close shut. His face portrays the determination you are so used to seeing on him—knowing that when he looks at you like that, there’s no point arguing with him.

You give him a weak nod, and he immediately looks down to begin stitching you up, his calloused hands placing themselves so gently on your arm. “Shouldn’t hurt that bad. You lemme know if ya need me to stop.”

Bracing yourself for the first initial prick of the needle going into your skin, you let out a soft wince as he begins working on your wound before the pain becomes familiar enough for you to not feel uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you softly say after a moment, but you both know you aren’t talking about the injury, or him kneeling on the cold, hard tiled floor to help you.

You hear him inhale in through his nose, giving you a sign that he heard you, that he knows what you mean, and to continue. “I— I didn’t mean to avoid you. I just… had some things on my mind that I needed to work through and figure out on my own for a bit.”

His eyes lift up to yours, briefly looking down to your lips before back up again. He sighs out what seems to have been a breath he was holding in for a while and his shoulders sag. “Why didn’t you just say that? I would’ve understood. I thought… thought I did somethin’ to ya. Thought you, I don’t know… hated me.”

You quickly shake your head, his words making your heart crack. “No. No, of course not, Joel. I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make me hate you. I’m sorry I made you worry. I didn’t mean to.”

He lets out a soft laugh and looks back down to your shoulder as he picks up his delicate movements. “Darlin’, I’m always gonna worry ‘bout ya. You ain’t nothin’ but trouble sometimes,” he adds with a teasing smirk.

Your mind feels fuzzy at that word again. Darlin’. You focus on how gently he’s interacting with you right now. How vulnerable he seems to be at this moment. 

How close he is to you…

You let him finish stitching up your wound and watch him do so silently, looking at the crook on the bridge of his nose—how many times did he break it for there to be a permanent indent? You take the opportunity of having him be so close to you to continue letting your eyes roam over his face, watching the concentrated look as he diligently works on your stitches. You look at the scar on the right side of his temple—admire how strands of his hair are curled towards the front of his face, almost as if they were tousled. It’s a reminder to you of how he said he was worried.

“Ya know, m’sure you got prettier things around this room to be starin’ at,” Joel says, interjecting your thoughts and examinations.

You freeze for a second, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had caught you admiring him in his peripheral. He looks up at you after a moment with a smirk, showcasing that he was teasing you.

Your embarrassment diminishes as you breathe out a laugh. “Unfortunately my mirror isn’t angled towards myself right now,” you try to joke.

Joel barks out a laugh at that. “Suppose that makes me the lucky one then—gettin’ the prettiest thing in the room as my view.”

His words make your cheeks go red, causing your insides to do a flip. For a moment you think the words slipped from Joel—accidentally voicing his inner thoughts without meaning to—because his eyes widen briefly as they flicker from your shoulder, over to your own eyes. You almost think you see his own cheeks go red, but his gaze settling on you makes you shyly look to the floor, unable to hold eye contact. 

Joel clears his throat and leans away. “Alright, m’done. Not the best stitchin’ you’ve ever seen, but it does the job.”

You look down to your shoulder, taking note of the fine stitching before lifting your eyes back to him. “It’s better than what I would’ve been able to do,” you huff out. “Thank you.”

He leans down, placing the needle and thread back into your kit. “Yeah, it’d be even better if ya let a real doctor do it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you in a playful scold.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know. I won’t do stupid shit like this anymore unless you’re there to witness all of it. Sound fair?”

He gives you a laugh in return before standing up with a grunt. “Far too old to be on my knees like this, god.”

You wince, feeling bad once again. “I told you, you didn’t have to be on the floor—plus, you’re not that old.”

Joel looks down at you with a flat look. “Yeah, darlin’, you go and tell my bones that.”

“Hey, mine feel the same—especially right now,” you say as you wince while trying to get the strength to stand up, bracing your palms on the edge of the bathtub at your sides.

Joel reaches out saying, “Here, lemme help you,” as he grabs you by your forearms to gently pull you up to a standing position. Finally up, he moves to let go of you, but you stumble at the loss of support and feel his arm wrap around your waist to keep you steady. 

“Whoa, you okay, darlin’?” He asks, concerned.

You shake your head to dismiss his concerns, looking at your feet as you try to find your balance again while grasping his arms to keep you grounded. “I’m fine, just my own bones telling me I’m getting old,” you laugh as you look up at him.

What you find is that his face is incredibly close to yours, and you realize that the two of you have your chests pressed up against each other. You take in a shaky breath as you feel his arm around your waist slide a bit until his hand lays at your hip—an attempt to help you stay steady, you tell yourself. Your shirt had lifted up slightly, a sliver of your skin peaking out, causing your body to shiver when you feel his warm, rough hand on your side.

You notice Joel’s jaw clench before his eyes travel down to your mouth for the second time tonight. He looks back up after only a second before he clears his throat and takes a step back—his hand slowly sliding off your side, making you selfishly mourn the loss of comfort his touch provided you.

He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, breaking the silence to say, “I, um, I’ll let ya get cleaned up and dressed for the night. I'll just be waitin’ downstairs for you when you’re done. Take your time, alright?”

You nod and watch as he walks out of your bathroom, hearing him make his way back downstairs. 

What the fuck just happened?

Once in the shower, you let yourself stand under the hot water and relish in the feeling of washing away the remnants from the day's events, as well as calming your nerves over your moment with Joel before.

Is that what you would call it? A moment? What did you even mean by that?

If your conversation with Maria hadn’t been stuck in your mind enough lately, tonight made your thoughts grow. Except they didn’t seem to get worse, but rather, the memory of her words seem to soothe your anxiety now—letting you feel some sort of peace at how you think and feel.

When you feel as though you are fully clean, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off before heading into your bedroom to get dressed. Your eyes widen briefly at the realization that Joel had come into your bedroom. Not like that, of course, but just… He never had come in before, and your room had quickly become your safe space. Ellie hadn’t even been in here—the most she’s seen of your personal space being your office in the room neighboring your bedroom so she could look through your books and vinyls.

After getting dressed for the night, you look at your clock on your bedside table to see that it’s been almost an hour since you had gotten into the shower. You widen your eyes as you realize how much time had passed by as you were consumed with your thoughts for so long, and how Joel said he would wait for you downstairs until you were finished.

You begin to rush downstairs, calling out, “Joel, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize how long I had been. I didn’t mean to make you wait so…” You cut yourself off as you reach the bottom of the steps to see your door is… fine?

“Long…” you finish.

You peer into the living room to find no sign of Joel until your eyes settle on the kitchen light shining into the hallway. Your senses pick up on the sounds of someone moving around in your kitchen, and the smell of food being made.

Walking over to your kitchen, you look in to find Joel standing over your stove while mixing something in a pot. Having spotted you, he shyly looks up at you before saying, “Hey, sorry to ransack through your kitchen but I figured you were hungry, so, thought I might make us some dinner.”

You take a second to take in the scene before you—the domesticity of it fogging your mind. Joel speaks up again to say, “I made some soup, in case you still weren’t feelin’ good.”

Then, that damn guilt eats at you again, creeping its way back. “Joel, I, uh… lied. I wasn’t really sick.”

Looking at his profile, you see him smirk before looking back at you. “Yeah, I know. Never seen a sick person with so much color in their face when I dropped off soup for you earlier this week.”

Your face falls at his admittance. “You’re such an ass,” you say as you walk over to slump into a chair at your kitchen table.

He laughs as he goes to turn the stove off, taking out two bowls from your cabinets and grabbing a ladle to use to pour the soup in your bowls. He brings them over to you to set one bowl in front of your seat and another in front of a chair on the side of the table besides you. Before sitting down, he goes to grab two spoons from one of your drawers and then walks over to a bottle of wine you have sitting on your countertop. “You mind if I open this? Figure you could use a drink after today.”

“God, yes, please.”

He smiles before grabbing the bottle and coming over to set your utensils down. He fills two glasses with wine for each of you and sits down beside you. Your table being a small square shaped one meant that him sitting to the spot on your left made for his right knee to be pressed against your left one. 

“How’s your shoulder lookin’?”

“Brand new,” you say. Looking in the direction of your front door, you add, “Just like my door that I seem to remember hearing you break down.”

He gives you a small smile before looking up at you with warm, brown eyes. “Yeah… Figured that out of everythin’ I’ve fixed in your house, that that was one I really owed ya for. Got it done real quick while you were in the shower.”

You remember how much time had passed and begin to tell him, “Right, yeah. Sorry again for taking so long. I really didn’t realize–”

He cuts you off with a warm laugh. “Darlin’, I promise you, you’re fine. Gave me a chance to work on that quickly so you aren't left feelin’ unsafe in your home for the night, and I got to make us some dinner.”

You let his words soothe away your guilt. “Thanks, Joel. Not just for dinner, but also for helping me in the first place tonight. And for fixing my door… even if you were the one to break it in the first place.”

He laughs in response and you find yourself matching him. The two of you continue to finish dinner while making light conversation, asking him about his week and what he was up to. His mention of Ellie makes your eyes widen in realization.

“Oh my god, Ellie. I didn’t even– If you need to leave, that’s okay, I know it’s late–”

He quickly reassures you, something you’re realizing he not only does a lot but also does so successfully. “She’s at Cat’s tonight so no need to worry. On my own tonight so you gave me somethin’ to do besides sit and stare at my wall. Although, m’not sure that I really enjoyed the sight of you covered in blood on your bathroom floor as a way to spend my Saturday night.”

You wince out a smile at him. “Yeah, fair enough.” Opening your mouth to speak again, Joel cuts you off.

“Darlin’, if you say sorry to me one more damn time, I’m gonna break that door again.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh… and another apology. “You got it, Miller.”

At that, he gives you a smile and goes to take your empty bowls as he stands up. “No, let me take these,” you interject, standing and reaching for the items in his hands. He frowns as he goes to move his hands away from yours before you give him a look. “Joel, you stitched up a gunshot in my shoulder, made me dinner, and fixed my door. Let me wash my damn dishes.”

He eyes you for a moment before seeming to give up. “Fine, but I’m washin’. You’re dryin’. And don’t even try to make a fuss about that because you shouldn’t be movin’ your shoulder that much right now anyways.”

You playfully roll your eyes before giving in and letting him wash while you dry. Though you couldn’t help but laugh as he ended up putting up the dishes himself after you dried them, saying something about, “Reachin’ up to put things away will rip your stitches.”

After finishing cleaning up dinner, he looks at the clock hanging on your kitchen wall and turns to you. “It’s gettin’ late, and you need to rest after today.” Joel eyes you for a moment before adding, “Promise me you’ll let me know if your stitches break or anythin’?”

“I promise,” you say before he gives you a squinted look to make sure you’re telling the truth. You hold out your right hand to him with your pinky out. He looks down at your hand offering a childish interaction and raises an eyebrow at you with amusement. “Is that a pinky promise? Haven’t had someone pull that on me since Sarah.” 

You nod with a dramatic show of seriousness, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “I’ll have you know that pinky promises are the only kind of promises that I’ll accept.” 

His resolve crumbles as his lips turn up at the corners before you see his eyes glint as a teasing thought crosses his mind. “You implyin’ to me that every promise you’ve made before now didn’t count?”

Looking off to the side, you fumble trying to figure out a reply, but he saves you by reaching out and wrapping his own pinky around yours—warm and firm. “Promise,” he says.

You smile before letting go and walking towards the door, Joel in suit behind.

“Thanks for tonight, Joel,” you say as you open your door and he steps through. Turning back to look at you, he says, “No problem, you have a good night, now.”

You watch as he turns away from you and begins to walk down your front porch steps. Your eyebrows furrow as you realize something is different about this moment, and that it’s your doing. Usually, Joel never left you at any moment before clarifying he’ll see you tomorrow or on patrol the next time you were scheduled together. But tonight, he didn’t, and you realize it’s the result of your own actions.

“Joel,” you call out.

He turns back to you as he reaches the bottom of the steps, his face confused as to what is wrong. “Yeah?”

Trying to fight back a smile, you ask, “So… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The confusion disappears from his face as you watch him fighting back his own smile, but that only causes your own internal barrier to fail. “Of course, anythin’ you want.”

You nod, your smile growing bigger. “Good. Night, Joel.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You watch him as he walks across the road to make sure he gets in his house okay before closing your own door, finally feeling at peace with yourself after the anxiety you had felt all week.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: gonna get sentimental for a second. i've recently gotten a lot of people reading and enjoying my story and it seriously warms my heart. the last chapter, chapter six, was one that i really loved but didn't think people would enjoy it that much because joel wasn't in it and it was shorter. so, i released it as a mid-week mini chapter thinking it wouldn't be received as well as the others. then i posted it, and on both ao3 and tumblr, so many comments talked about how wholesome the chapter was and that y'all enjoyed it. idk why but that made me so happy because i was so confident people wouldn't care much for it, but i truly didn't mind because i knew that i liked it. anyways BLAH ty all for being so kind. mwah, ily. be kind to yourselves <3 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @lcvespedro @heartpatch @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm

[mybworlds]

A New Dawn

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, another SA in the present days, PTSD, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

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Masterlist

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed; @lilac-boo

Joel's leg is fortunately improving day by day. But his mood gets worse and worse. You do everything to help him, to lift his mood, but nothing seems to help him. He spends whole days at the window and a couple of times you saw him cry.

You did not show yourself, you know how proud and stubborn he is, but every day that passes you want to hug him more and more, hold him tight to your chest and tell him that whatever was making him feel so bad, you would listen and be there for him!

You wonder what's happening to you and why you're starting to feel all this empathy for someone like Joel who's doing everything he can to push you away.

One day, passing in front of the door of his study, you notice one of his many guitars and so you push him to come out of his room and make him go down to the living room and somewhat reluctantly sit on the sofa.

“Why am I here?” he says to you sulkily.

“I got this,” you say, showing off his guitar.

“So?” he asks you with an impatient look on his face.

“I’ve never played the guitar,” you say, “I was thinkin’ you could teach me some chords.”

“Tsk, don't.” He barks, looking at you with an annoyed expression.

“What are you talking about?” you ask him innocently.

He clicks his tongue a couple of times, “Don't do that. You're not helping.” he sighs looking at the guitar in your hands.

“Okay, so what? What do you want to do? Drink? Drown in tears?” He looks up at you, his gaze is grim, you hit the nail on the head. “I saw you.” You admit. You should feel embarrassed or guilty, deep down maybe you do, but now is not the time to think about it.

“Are you spyin’ on me?” he asks you piquedly squinting with a displeased expression.

“No. But I live here too, Joel. And I want you to be at peace at least. I'd like you to tell me what it's torturing you, what makes you feel so bad, because if I can help you...”

“You can't!” he interrupts you abruptly, he shakes his head “It doesn't help me to play or eat your fuckin’ cookies or go out, nothing.”

You place the guitar leaning it gently against the wall, “Please, lemme help you.” you say sitting next to him.

“No.” It's his only answer. He withdraws, avoiding any kind of contact with you. You find yourself swallowing and feeling deeply disappointed, as well as hurt. After everything you've done for him.

He turns his head away as you stand up and after taking a deep breath, you nod with a hurt look, “As you wish.” You reply before disappearing from his sight.

You leave him alone at home, he doesn't need you, he doesn't want you around, he told you so many times, but you didn't give up and you swallowed so many bitter blows, you pretended not to hear, you've endured, but now you can't take it anymore.

Enough.

You don't even know how long you've been walking, you just know that you're at the stables and you are caressing what has now almost become your horse, or sort of. It relaxes you to feel the horse's fur tickling your skin. You smile and you whisper something like the two of you are going to get out together again soon and that you love him. You giggle when the horse moves its muzzle against your face.

Yes, you will do just that. You will soon return to riding, to take part in the patrols, you will go to visit Dina and if she is still not feeling well you will prepare her some tea or whatever you find. You were wrong to spend too much time with Joel, you even dedicated him maybe more time than necessary, but he's half the time so lonely that you didn't have the heart to leave him alone and. . .

“Hello!” a warm voice reaches your ear and you turn around.

You remember him, you've seen him often chatting with Seth at the Tipsy Bison and you know he's not a Joel fan.

“How are you, cutie?” he asks you, reaching you with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Good.” you reply coldly “Why are you here and not at Seth’s talking about the same things over and over again?” you ask him.

“Come on, young lady, what manners!” he replies in a slimy tone “Maybe spending too much time with Joel Miller has made you a ferocious kitty.” you frown, shivering in disgust.

“What d'ya want?” you ask, frowning in a serious expression.

“Just talk, sweet girl.” he answers “Don't be so suspicious,” he adds, raising his hands in surrender. “I come in peace.” You frown, looking at his stubby, dirt-covered fingers. “You know, Miller is a dangerous guy and since he had that accident he's been practically useless. . .”

“That's not true!” you reply immediately in a firm tone “And then he almost got killed, have some respect!”

He smiles, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, “It's admirable how a useless drunkard can find the sympathy of a young woman all alone,” you frown “I should almost think you are in love with him!” he exclaims “And yet, everyone saw you around with Noah, that nice guy,” his honeyed tone is something you like less and less.

“I don't understand these insinuations and, even if what you say were true, it's none of your business.”

His smile widens, “Think about the benefit you would get from pushing Joel Miller away,” he says “The house would be yours. Yours and maybe Noah's.”

“Enough.” you say gnashing your teeth “I don't care what your opinions are on Joel Miller. And at this point also on me.” and you start to walk past him, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist and making you turn back to him, eyes wide open with anger, a burning anger boiling inside you.

“Joel Miller has become virtually useless to this community. We’ll have a meeting soon and vote to expel him. Think about whose side you want to be on, little girl.” you abruptly break free from his grip and leave the stables.

Until now you hadn't realized how little Joel was liked by many. Maybe because of his grumpy character, maybe because of his brusque ways, maybe because he was mostly drunk, before his near death, maybe he did something bad that made him despised.

You can probably ask Maria or Dina, they’ve been around longer than you and will certainly know if anything happened before.

You don't know why you feel so sorry for someone like Joel, for someone who doesn't even say thank you for everything you did or do. You sit on a half-broken swing and think that after all he just had to adapt to a life who did everything to cut him off and kill him and now maybe it's normal to be so distrustful, grumpy, so unwilling to show the true self. It's easier to survive this way. No one can really hurt you.

It's almost dusk when you decide to leave the playground and go back home.

Home.

You tsk if you think that what seemed to you to be a new prison from which sooner or later you will escape, now you call it home.

Your real home was among those bombed because in the infected area, you were saved only by chance. You still remember the despair when you secretly went back there and found nothing. You collapsed in front of the front door, the only thing left of your house, and cried. All was gone. Your life, your dreams, your past. Everything.

You promised yourself to continue living for your parents, for your friends, you fought and hoped until you got to Jackson. But even here you continue to fight and hope for the future. Not a better future because you never believed in this optimistic vision that people have been praising so much when you were on QZ, but a future that is worth living and appreciated.

You walk back very slowly, you look around and you observe how you are all trying to live as best as possible with each other, even though the resentments, the antipathies, the hatreds that characterize all of you continue to always and in any case prevail. The real enemy, you think, is not the disease, not the Cordyceps, but the human race itself. You destroy and kill ourselves for the most various reasons regardless of the disease. It's in our nature to kill ourselves, you remember a movie quote. And it's true.

You are back. There is only one light and it comes from the living room, there is the fireplace lit. You can see the flames against the opposite wall.

Oh, he lit the fire, this is a nice surprise!

You sigh through your nose and enter. You'd like to ask Joel what he did to deserve such contempt from Seth and others like the guy who made that accusation against him, but you know he wouldn't tell you.

You enter the house almost stealthily, you're not sure you want to face him again, maybe it's best to put some distance between you.

You slip quietly into the kitchen and stand there leaning against the kitchen island, you're mulling over Joel's words and those of that man in the stables when you hear voices: they come from the living room and you can easily recognize them.

It's Joel and Ellie.

Their voices are calm, they don't sound like they're arguing or anything like that. You watch them and then see Ellie lean over and hug him. The expression on Joel's face is suddenly calm, his eyes closed and a small smile curling his lips upwards. Ellie seems to suddenly relax after weeks of tension.

You find yourself smiling and your heart suddenly warms. You leave them alone, being careful not to make the stairs creak, and go to your room.

Maybe this is what Joel definitely needs more than your presence or your care.

You just left and Joel feels his heart breaking again. These days he thought about his whole stormy life and survival. He thought about his daughter Sarah, about his failure to react promptly in protecting her.

He feels like a failure.

He was a parent and should have done everything to protect his little girl and instead he saw her die in his arms without being able to do anything to help her.

For twenty years he lived in shit as a smuggler, he committed unspeakable deeds of which he was later also ashamed. He wasn't alone. He had Tess, but he still felt so alone. Tess hugged him and sometimes she had her soft side too, she would have been a perfect partner if only he hadn't felt totally unable to reciprocate her feelings. Then she also left him to protect a little girl he didn't even care about.

The relationship with that strange girl turned out to be special right from the start and not only because of her condition, but also because of her almost tireless good humor and her determination to continue to believe in a purpose and in a humanity now in collapse. His only goal was to make it possible to create a vaccine and therefore a probable cure for all of this shit, but by now she was no longer just a commodity to be dumped somewhere. She had become a full-fledged daughter. He decided to save his world, condemning the rest of the world to live in steel barricades, armed to the teeth, and killing each other to survive. But Joel didn't care much about that. He couldn't save everyone, he saved the people who mattered to him. But Ellie didn't understand this and the result of Joel's choice was her contempt and her decision to no longer want to have anything to do with him. She still lives with him in some ways, but she constantly avoids him.

When his life seemed to be marked only by deep despair, an unexpected breath of fresh air was brought by your arrival. He can't say he was immediately struck by you, in fact your first meetings were rather stormy and even today they're not rosy, but they are undoubtedly different. He wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for you, he wouldn't be standing if you hadn't fought for him too, if you hadn't encouraged him to fight, if you weren't so stubborn even with someone like him.

Joel sits on the couch in semi-darkness and a memory comes to his mind. It's one particular night and he doesn't even know why. He had been back from the hospital for a few days and you were there for him. He was in terrible condition, spending all his time lying on his back and sleeping most of the time, his thoughts mixed up in each other. That evening it was raining and he was in bed, his leg was tingling and he still had pain everywhere, you had just given him a painkiller since he couldn't move due to the severe pain. He remembers that he was like in a state of semi-consciousness, he could feel everything, but he couldn't move. He was like paralyzed by pain. He felt you around him, he wanted to tell you to go away and rest, but he couldn't. Suddenly he felt the bed bend and then your body pressed against his, your head on his collarbone, your hand on his chest as if to check that he was breathing and then he heard you cry. A feeling of great and immense tenderness immediately spread through him, he wanted to caress your temple and reassure you and tell you to dry your tears, he wanted to tell you that you are more beautiful when you smile and when you reply to his stinging words than when you cry.

“Please, don’t die. Don’t.” he heard you beg, those trembling words spoken against his neck “How do I do?” you sigh, shaking and holding him tighter.

He feels your tears wetting the skin of his collarbones and slowly descend onto his t-shirt-covered chest.

So you care about him, despite everything.

Today he treated you badly again and you left.

Like everyone else, you left. He swallows, maybe it's better this way. He only destroys those around him. He can't help but think that maybe you won't come back. He feels a knot in his stomach at the thought of being completely alone again. His eyes fill with tears, he's a mess, a complete mess and he has only made his situation worse.

Someone knocks. He dries his eyes as best he can and goes to open the door.

It's Ellie.

“Hi.” she says, opening her eyes wide and looking him over from head to toe. She looks surprised.

“Hi, kiddo,” he returns the greeting in a hoarse voice.

“Can I come in?” she asks him hesitantly.

“It’s your house, baby girl,” Joel replies. She sighs, then he adds “If you're looking for her” referring to you “she's not home, I dunno when she'll be back or if she will.” he says with bitterness.

“I was looking for you.” she clarifies, interrupting him immediately “So, can I come in?” she asks again with a half smile on her lips.

Joel's eyes light up and he just nods.

“Fuck, it’s cold in here!” Ellie curses, making the man smile and shake his head as she enters and he closes the door behind her “We can light the fireplace, right?”

He nods barely concealing a smile.

He watches Ellie move around the house with the same agility and familiarity she once had, as if that time had never passed.

A strong, warm emotion rises in his chest. It's so beautiful. He feels so happy just seeing her next to him again, seeing that she isn't looking at him with angry, rage-filled eyes. He knows their relationship won't fix it today or tomorrow, but he hopes to have time to try now.

Silently the two sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. Joel would like to hug her tightly and apologize for having decided for her, but he doesn't know if Ellie would accept his gesture, so he sits there in silence waiting for her to talk to him, if she wants.

“Joel, what happened to you...” she says leaning forward resting her elbows on her thighs “it hit me like...” she sighs “even though you did a horrible thing, um. . . I still want make up for the time we lost together.” Joel gently strokes her head in an affectionate gesture without taking his eyes off her “It’ll take time, but. . . I hope it's not too late.” she adds, looking at him hopeful in his eyes.

“Never, lil’ one.” he says “C’mere,” he adds, hugging her and feeling Ellie's head against his chest and her arms around his torso.

The man's heart seems to swell with a deep warmth, in that embrace he melts completely and doesn't stop for even a moment to whisper to the young woman how much she means to him, how happy he is to have her there with him despite everything he did.

Somehow Joel feels like a father again and feels Ellie's closeness again as if she were his daughter. Again.

The crackling of the fire provides the backdrop to all this, then there is a distant creak and their embrace dissolves. Both Joel and Ellie turn towards the stairs expecting to see you appear at any moment, but they don't see you.

“She knows.” he says and Ellie immediately understands what he's referring to, she sighs “I trust her.” he adds in a whisper.

“Okay,” she says, swinging her legs in a nervous gesture looking down and staring at her beloved Converse shoes.

“She won’t talk.” he adds again.

Ellie nods. She, after a few moments of silence, looking up at his face, says “She's a good girl.”

“Yeah.” Joel says looking down at his hands.

“I saw both of you,” she says, “taking care of each other, in your own way.” Joel looks up at her again “She suffered a lot in these last weeks.” she reveals to him “She was afraid you wouldn't make it, but she pretended to be calm and don't worry me with her worries." Ellie continues her speech "Not everyone would have done that. I know she cares about you.”

“Nah, she doesn't.” he states looking away feeling uncomfortable with her words. They've never had this kind of conversation about his love life before and doing so now makes him feel really uncomfortable because he cares about you.

Deep down.

Ellie shakes his head “You're blind, old man!” she tsks “You know, I don't like people who lie, but for some reason I wanted to believe her that everything would be okay.” she takes a long pause “Oh, Joel. I was so scared. . .” she lets out, swallowing and swallowing back the lump in her throat at the thought that he might die.

“‘s okay, I’m here.” he tells her, caressing her cheek.

She nods, coughing and turning her head to hide the timid tears that are blurring her vision.

“Would you like if . . . um . . . if we tried to make up for lost time?” he asks her again.

“I’d like that.” she says breathing deeply to fight back the tears.

They talk, talk, talk and smile at each other like they used to. It's a beautiful afternoon and then evening they spend.

Ellie falls asleep on his couch and Joel stays by her side watching her with great tenderness. Joel feels for the first time a deep sense of peace, he felt broken, desperate and now instead he's fine again.

He checks the fire, then the front door, and then goes upstairs. He's about to go past your half-open door, but then he thinks better of it and goes inside. He never entered your room at night, except that one time he heard you screaming in your sleep; he remembers your eyes full of terror, you must have dreamed something really horrible. Who knows if it was just a dream or some memory that still haunts you!

The dim light of the street partially illuminates your room and he sees you sleeping so blissfully: your hair is loose and spread across the pillow, you are lying on your back, your lips parted, your breathing a little heavier, one of your hands is placed at chest height, the other on your belly. You are a very sweet image.

Almost as if you sensed him, you mutter his name. He doesn't move. Maybe you're waking up, but if you are, he doesn't want you to find him leaning over you.

You don't wake up, but you roll over onto your side, exposing your belly before you wrinkle your nose and go back to sleep.

When he's about to leave, you call him and this time you're awake.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, rubbing your eyes and sitting up.

Fuck...

“Um, I... I just wanted to tell you, um...” he stammers uncertainly as he slowly approaches you. “May I?” he asks, pointing to your bed.

You, still a little dazed, nod, giving him some space. “Tell me.” You say, looking at his face as best you can given the partial light in the room. His features in that light seem to be even more marked and masculine. Part of his face is shrouded in the shadow of the night, while the other half is well lit so that you can even see his expression.

“You know I'm not a man of many words,” he says and a small smile stretches your lips into a closed-mouth smile “but I have to tell you something, and that is…” Joel hesitates. “I think that guy you’re dating, what’s his name? Lukas, Dean . . ?”

Your smile fades, “Noah. He’s a friend. I’m not dating him.” You clarify immediately.

“You don’t have to say anything, you can do whatever you want.” he says “He’s perfect for you. And . . . um, I think you should give him a chance.”

You frown at being treated like a child, “If and when it happens, it's a decision that's up to me, Miller.”

His expression changes for a moment as if your tone and calling him by his last name had given him a slap in the face, you see him clench his jaw and his eyes narrow. He nods.

“Did you sneak into my room and wake me up just to tell me that?” you ask him annoyed.

He seems uncertain again, but this uncertainty only lasts a handful of seconds and then he regains his iron self-control which leads him to add, “Um, no. Tomorrow I'll resume my patrols,” you observe him without adding anything else, you don't know what to say, you are speechless “I think it’s good to pick up where I left off,” he adds, and you look down, realizing your heart is pounding in your chest.

You feel upside down, Joel is a continuous cyclone. When you think you know him, he makes you realize you don't know him at all.

You don't comment on his words, you don't even know why you smiled seeing him there furtively in your room. Maybe you were hoping he was there to apologize for his harsh behavior earlier in the day or maybe something else, you're not sure. You only know that being treated like an idiot hurt you perhaps more than it should have.

[mirrormauve]

of our future

pairing: joel miller x former f!sex worker!reader

summary: joel takes you to the state fair. you see someone you aren't expecting to.

wc: 6k

part of the cherry verse - cherry masterlist

warnings: age gap [20s/50s], mentions of former sex work, fluffy fair activities, anxiety and worry, spiraling thoughts, encounter with a former client, protective joel, brief display of violence, smut [piv, implied fingering], hastily edited

a/n: a little update on cherry and joel <3 thank you for reading and I hope you're glad to hear from them again, let me know what you think!!

Red, early morning heat shimmers over the sidewalk, glittering like beetle wings and gold coins.

The rising sun is a flame on the horizon, spitting flames of orange over the newly sapphire sky. It’s so early the street is deserted and silent, only the faint whisper of a breeze rustling scrub grass and emerald leaves and the clink fencing of the park’s open gate. 

Your new apartment building is at the end of a quiet residential street, hemmed in and secluded by hanging oaks that arch over the road. It’s a squat building with units that each have their own little patch of grass with a patio and private entrances. 

Joel’s truck pops as it cools at the curb, windows rolled up for once. He leans against the passenger side door, watching you approach through hooded eyes. 

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” he says, pushing away from the door, already reaching for you, sliding his arms into place around your body, tilting your chin against his, a chaste, whiskered kiss pressed against your mouth. “Nice boots.”

Joel tugs your overnight bag from your fist, and holds in a tight fist behind your back. It taps against the back of your thighs as he tilts you away from him a little in his arms to run his eyes over your body.  

“Some old cowboy I know got them for me” you tease. “I think he likes me.” 

He chuckles, rubbing his free hand over his jaw. “Probably does. Real nice of him though.” 

“I think so. I like him back, anyway.” 

He rolls his eyes and taps his own boot against yours. “Howdy, Cherry.” 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

Joel’s free hand travels your spine, his eyes soft when you meet them. It’s unbearable, at times, the way he looks at you, the horrible way you can see the way he looks at you now. His affection is so obvious, now that you know where to look for it. 

You cover his hand when it eventually anchors at your hip, feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “Should we get going?” 

“In a minute,” he answers, still looking at you, still treating you like a wish in a bottle he’s too surprised to uncork. 

You have a little drive ahead of you, to Dallas, to the state fair grounds, to a stay in a hotel. 

If the hotel makes something anxious wriggle in your gut, you can mostly ignore it. You can ignore the worry that Joel seeing you there again, might ruin everything, might remind him of who you are. 

The self hating thoughts are not easy to push away, but you make the effort anyway.  

Not who you are. 

Just what you were, what you once did. 

And Joel knows, and if the reminder is too much, if it makes him uncomfortable or makes him pull away, then he didn’t deserve you anyway. 

You want him to, though. 

To want you, to deserve you.

He kisses you again in the bright morning sun, opens the door for you and offers his ever steady hand up into the cab, tucking your bag into the space at your feet. 

Before he can close the door, you take his hand and press it between your legs, the fabric of your skirt keeping his touch at bay. 

Amusement shines in his eyes. “Somethin’ on your mind?” 

You shrug. “It’s just such a long drive.” You pout, teasing. “And I missed you. I didn’t see you all week.” 

“Pretty sure we had dinner on Thursday.”

You lie back and huff at the ceiling. “Must have been your other girlfriend,” you sigh. 

He chuckles. “Yeah and she’s goddamn dramatic too.” You laugh. “C’mon now. Couple hours, I’m sure you can find some way to entertain yourself,” he continues, thumb stroking the inside of your thigh in slow, firm circles. “Can’t you be good and wait for me?” 

You lean on your elbows and push out your chest, watch his eyes stay on your face. You’re teasing him, testing him, as you often do now and not always fairly. “No. Lots of men would kill for a hot, young thing that wants them to finger her before getting on the road, you know.”

“Lucky I already got one of them then, ain’t it?” 

You giggle and widen your legs. 

“You aren’t being fair,” He reprimands softly, touches you all the same, slides warm, calloused fingers down to your calf, beneath your skirt. You shiver when he traces the hinge of your knee, the inside of your thigh, the thin fabric of your underwear. 

It’s a little dangerous, there on the dawning street, but you don’t care. It’s early, his body covers yours, blocks out the world, and now you can just say he’s your partner. He’s yours; he’s picking you up to take you to the state fair, for a weekend away, just because you said you’d never gotten to go before and it looked like fun. 

His finger traces your slit, parting the damp folds of your pussy. You watch the swell and flex of his bicep when he sinks one finger inside you, before you let yourself fall back against the seat again, scraping your hands through his hair. 

.

.

.

The drive tumbles by more quickly than you would like, silver flashes of sun against windshields, lines of cars trundling into the distance, a bottle of cherry coke popping and fizzing in the cupholder next to Joel’s cup of coffee, black and bitter, picked up at a convenience store on your way out of town. 

You stop only one other time, just to make out on the side of the road, messy, sloppy kisses that leave you breathless and Joel with a lipstick stain on his cheekbone and throat. He only half heartedly wipes it away when he sees it reflected in the rearview mirror, a pink brightening along the crests of his cheeks.

He rolls his eyes when you offer to leave an imprint of your lips somewhere else, too, holds your face in the cup of his hands and strokes your cheek very tenderly with the pad of his thumb. Later, he says. 

Promise? You answer. Just tell me you can’t keep up. 

But he can and you know it, he will, he does. He exhausts you more than you exhaust him. 

You make me feel like I’m twenty again, he says. 

He makes you feel like the world sits in your lap, but you don’t say that.

Joel hums along to the radio, an oldies station that rarely plays commercials. He holds your hand against his thigh as he drives one handed. You feel warm, curled in the sun that shines through the windshield. 

The hotel is so different from the one you used to frequent. Still opulently, subtly rich but without the charm of a locally owned hotel. There’s little character in the smooth floors and clean walls, crystal and marble. The man at the front desk doesn’t even blink at the pair of you, though you’re used to it. Now for different reasons than you had been before. 

You don’t look like a whore. 

The room itself is bright white and cream, sunshine falling in warm drafts through the window. 

And when you fall against the bed and wonder if Joel will look at you there and remember you on your knees or peeling your body open for him to see and take and use, he only collapses next to you and pulls you into his chest, the sigh on his lips exhausted. 

His body is hot around yours, fed by sun tucked lovingly through the windshield, the hours on the road. He smells like sunbleached stone, like warm, salt-split skin, leather and hay. His chest rises and falls slow and even against your back, arms crossed around you to keep you close, just as they always are at home. No differently than they ever are. 

For a moment, you just listen to him breathe, the hum of the building, the purr of industrial AC; feel the rise and fall of his chest against your spine, softening the curve of it into his belly. 

“Joel?” You murmur, scratching your nails along his forearm, hair scraping beneath your nails, tracing the veins down to his wrist and back again and again.

He grunts to show he’s listening, arms tightening around you. “Cher?”

But you can’t make yourself want to disturb him, to ask if you should get going, to change and make the short, hot drive to the fairgrounds. 

You want to stay there, wrapped in his warm arms in the cool hotel air, breathing in the smell of his skin and breath, different and the same all at once. 

Carefully, you wriggle back, just a little. He grunts and wraps a hand against your hip. “None of that, darlin’.” 

“Just getting comfortable.”

“Uh-huh. You’re testin’ me.” His hand slides from your hip to curl around your waist, your ribs, flattening between your breasts. You only half heartedly suck in your belly before releasing the tension and slot your fingers between his. 

A little disgruntled at being found out, you relent and turn into him, burying your nose against his collarbone. His lips brush your forehead. “It’s all right if you need a nap, Joel.”

“Just resting my eyes,” he grouses. 

The truth lies somewhere closer to yours. He doesn’t want to move, doesn't want to let go. You relax in his arms, curl tightly against his chest. 

You nap well into the afternoon, lazy and comfortable. 

.

.

.

Ruby red neon light flickers over Joel’s jaw, hand printing its way across his neck and chest. Red transitions to violet to blue and back to crimson again, the wheeling cascade of fair lights dousing him in too pretty shades. 

He follows your lead around the fairgrounds, from stall to stall, event to event, ride to ride, a steady, sure presence always only a half step behind you, a warm hand pressed to your spine, fingers tangled with yours. 

You get to pet a cow on its big, wet nose and tease Joel about his horses not having any ribbons. He suggests you start wrangling the horses into being prize winners and you pout. 

Joel is a good sport about indulging you.

He is god awful at fair games. 

He misses every shot, doesn’t pop a single balloon with a dart, doesn’t catch a single metal fish with a magnet hanging from the end of a stick. It’s funny and endearing and senselessly, needlessly entertaining. 

He is also doggedly determined to win something for you. You feel as though watching him struggle with fair games that even children occasionally win at is more than enough of a prize.  

Evening settles in but the heat doesn’t fade with so many bodies crowding around you, the hum of food stalls and fair rides ever present, putting off more warmth than the sun had. 

“You’re extraordinarily bad at this,” you laugh, watching him miss yet another balloon with a shiny red dart. It thwacks firmly into the plywood board beside the balloon.  

He sighs. “I think,” he throws the last dart and misses. “It’s a curse. I never could win anything for Sarah and Ellie either.” 

You bite your lip, holding back another laugh, and pull him away from the stand before he can hand the guy behind the counter another ten dollar bill. 

“That’s good money you can waste on something else,” you say, hooking your hand against the inside of his elbow. “Like the Ferris Wheel.” 

“Tryin’ to tell me somethin’?”

“Reminding you that I was promised a ride on the Ferris Wheel and kiss as close to the top as we can get.” 

“Think I remember something about that,” he says, rubbing his jaw. He tugs you closer, looping his arm around your shoulders. You shove your hand in the back pocket of his jeans and listen to him grunt, the echo of it in his ribs sliding along yours. “You’re handsy today.” 

You laugh. “Do you want me to stop?” 

He makes a noncommittal noise and does not tell you to stop. The sun is only a suggestion on the horizon, blazing burnt orange as it threads through the oily purple smeared at the bottom of the sky. 

The din of the fair is overwhelming, music pouring from every direction, the carnival clanging of bells at the game booths, the underfoot beat of live music being played in a different corner of the vast, sprawling fair grounds. You’d had no idea how large it was until seeing it for yourself. 

“What about this one?” He jerks his chin toward another game booth. 

“What about the Ferris Wheel?” You can see the enticing arc of it in the distance, the glittery silhouette shimmering above the rest of the fair. 

“It’s better after dark,” he says, already steering you in the direction of the game. “You can see all the lights then. Now, c’mon.” 

A little river with animatronic metal fish swimming through the current greets you. A gaggle of children with their parents are gathered around, dipping tiny fishing rods hooked with magnets near the water. It appears to be difficult to actually get them to attach to the weak magnets through the flowing water. 

“Fishing? Do you fish?” 

“Knock it off.” 

You laugh and step up to the edge of the water with him. Chlorine and bleach sting your nose. “I don’t need some little teddy bear, Joel.” 

“Well pick somethin’ else out then.” 

You roll your eyes. “Can I play this time?” 

He hums in agreement. “Anything you want.” 

The fish make a metallic clicking as they swim, moving faster in the slipstream than you thought they would. “I can catch one before you,” you say, nudging your elbow into his ribs.

He grunts, already focused on the little fishing pole he’s handed in exchange for a couple of dollars. You lean against him and watch him fail to catch a single tiny fish. They dart by in colorful schools of neon pink and faded green.

Joel’s patience wears thin quickly but yours doesn't. You take your time, accessing the speed of the little fish, the precise dip of the unwieldy little magnet to get it to stick. 

You miss the first two times, but on the third try you have it down, pulling up three fish in a row. 

Three fish means you win a little prize. The girl behind the counter takes your fish and points to the prizes up for grabs. 

“I did it,” you say happily.  

For half a moment you wonder if you should have thrown it. Before, you would have. With other men. Something as silly as fair games held the potential for a jealously wounded ego. 

But he just sighs in a self-defeating kind of way.  

“That you did, Cher. Good job.”

It’s stupid, but you still feel a glow of pride. “Thank you.” 

The girl reaches for the stuffed longhorn you point to, though you debate picking the fluorescent green fish the length of your forearm for how ugly he is. 

“Wouldn’t want to rub it in your face that I won, anyway,” you tease as you walk away, handing over the little steer for Joel to carry.  

“Uh-huh,” Joel grunts, “It was ugly anyway.” 

“In a cute way it was ugly,” you agree. 

He chuckles, “It was ugly in an ugly way, darlin’.” 

Joel doesn’t know, but you won the little longhorn for him. 

.

.

.

The Ferris Wheel is better when the sun goes down, as Joel promised it would be. The world glimmers below you in mesmerizing color, threads of laughter and shouting only just reaching you, the vast soundscape a low hum beneath you. 

You tuck your fingers between his and feel lucky, feel the weight of something steady sink beneath your bones. The ground feels firmer when you’re together. Despite teasing him and occasionally testing him, you know he’s with you, loves you, for reasons beyond your body and what you could do with it. 

You don’t get stopped quite at the top but it's good enough to hold onto his arm in the warm breeze and watch the lights of the sprawling fair grounds spread beneath you, to laugh when he swears at you for leaning too far forward, his arm braced suddenly across your belly, locking you back into the seat. 

“Afraid of heights?” 

“Afriad of you falling to your death.” 

You tilt back. “That’s sweet,” you coo, cupping his face in your hands as the car trundles down a fraction and then pauses again for a few long minutes as people get on and off the ride. 

“That’s nothin’, Cher.” 

“But sweetheart, I’ve never even had that.” 

His hand is warm where it cups your jaw. 

You kiss him so you don’t have to hear his response. He tastes like cotton candy and cherry chapstick. The warm scent of him wraps around you, curls deep in your lungs along with the smells of the fair, animal and hay and greasy food, dust and sweat and the rotting sweet of candy. 

The kiss doesn’t last long, not with the giggling of the trio of girls sitting above you, clearly watching. Joel’s skin heats beneath yours and though you’ve fucked in his truck and in more parking lots than you can count, its never where anyone might catch you. He’s shy about this kind of thing, somehow.  

You pull away when the car jerks down again and a teenaged couple takes their time getting off the ride somewhere below you. “Thank you for taking me to the fair,” you say, brushing his hair behind his ear. “It’s better than I thought.” 

His arm curls around your shoulders again as the car descends inch by inch. “Got a favorite part yet?” 

“The animals. And beating you at fake fishing. That was fun.” 

He shakes his head. “Funny.”

“I think so.” 

“Sorry you didn’t get to see it sooner.” He leans in and presses his mouth to your ear. “There’re fireworks later.” 

You gasp and pull back as the wheel moves again and the safety bar is lifted from your lap as you finally land at the bottom again. Joel stands and holds out a hand for you. “How could you keep something like that from me?” 

“It’s a surprise, darlin’.” 

“How romantic.” 

He goes pink and you don’t mention it. 

Instead you let him lead you back through the ever thickening crowd, snaking lines of people waiting to order. He settles you at a wooden picnic table, spattered with drops of melted ice cream and grease. “Lemonade?”

“I did have a coke earlier,” you muse. “Sure.”

“Look at you, branchin’ out.”

“Ha ha,” you snark. “And something to eat?” 

“Like what?” 

“You pick.” Whatever he chooses, you trust him, to feed you well, to take care of you, to show you a fair you could only dream about as a little girl. 

He chuckles, “Okay. Tacos?” 

“Good.” 

“All right. Sit tight.” 

“I can stand in line with you.” 

“Don’t wanna lose the table,” he says and jerks his chin at the people circling the completely occupied pavilion like vultures. He hands you the longhorn still tucked beneath his arm. “Hold onto that for me.” 

And even though you must look sweaty and gross beneath the flashing lights of the fair, the harsh glow of white street lights, he looks at you with affection and kisses your cheek before he goes. 

You watch him walk away, disappear within the folds of the crowd and become anonymous. A tiny sliver of worry worms its way into your heart, as it always does the second you’re apart, a habit you’ve yet to break, replaying each moment together, wondering if there’s something you could have done differently, better; if you did something wrong. 

It’s becoming easier to halt the careening anxiety of your thoughts, but not easy. It takes a moment of breathing, of grounding yourself in the present and not the past, to remember you aren’t that girl anymore, you aren’t that girl to Joel anymore and that you weren’t putting on a performance. 

The table is rough beneath your fingertips, the longhorn soft and plush. Noise rushes back in, laughter and chatter and music and the distant sound of delighted screams. 

The warm, humid air presses around you like the weight of a familiar blanket. You tuck your legs beneath the table and hitch up your skirt around your knees. The air feels cool in the places the fabric has been sticking to your legs.

“Hey.” 

You turn and come face to face with a client. You only half remember him—flashes of bland sex that lasted five minutes in a familiar motel room, cash wadded up on a bedside table. One of many and unmemorable for his normalcy. Normalcy you were glad for all the same, but hard to pinpoint. 

Still, you do not want to talk to him. Do not want Joel to see him, a real, physical reminder of your past. The hotel room has nothing on being within spitting distance of another man you’d fucked in a past life. 

“It is you,” he says, something greedy in his voice. “Thought that was you. I saw you earlier and wasn’t sure. You remember me? What was your name again, sweetheart?”

“I think you have the wrong girl,” you say, smiling, willing him to believe it or at least read the tone of your voice and back off. 

“Nah, I definitely know you. . .Carrie? Something like that, right?” 

You swallow and almost correct him. Cherry, not Carrie. But you don’t want to hear your name in his mouth, the name now so lovingly caressed, remembered, by Joel’s tongue, held softly in the palm of his hand. 

“Maybe. But I’m here with someone,” you say, apologetic and just a little coy, attempting to get him to back off. Embarrassing them sometimes caused a scene, caused them to lash out. Wounding his ego wouldn’t help and if one thing was sure to get a man to back down, it was the claim of another man. 

He glances around theatrically. “I don’t see anyone. And if I remember right, you were a hell of a lot of fun.” 

Your chest suddenly feels tight, worry washing into the back of your throat. “I don’t do that anymore. And I am here with someone.” 

He scoffs, looks you up and down. “Who? That old man?” He steps closer boxing you into the table. You wish you could just walk away but your legs are caught awkwardly beneath the table. No one looks graceful getting up from a picnic table and though you aren’t worried about grace, you’re worried about how long it would take to extract yourself and give him time to put his hands on you.

“Don’t see him now. Must need the money pretty bad to be with him, huh? So let me give you something better.” 

He offers himself up like a king, like he’s doing you a favor. 

It chafes more than it ever did before. 

“I said no,” you say firmly, picking up the longhorn. “Leave me alone.” 

When he reaches for you, you dodge his hand on instinct, a well practiced movement, standing and lurching to the side. Something mean and feral unthaws inside you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He laughs and reaches out again, hand circling your wrist and jerking you close to him, the wood scrapes against the back of your knees. “C’mon. Really? I got double.” 

“No. Let go of me and walk away.” 

He rolls his eyes and touches your jaw. “Sure you said that before but—” You stomp hard on his foot. He yelps and stumbles back. The shock on his face gives way to anger lightning quick. “You little b—”

He lurches toward you as you finally step out of the narrow space between the bench and the table, but doesn’t get very far, you lurch back out of his reach on instinct at the same time that he is suddenly shoved back by what seems like a brick wall. 

Joel. 

He wraps his hand in his shirt and shoves him against the side of the booth. “I think the lady told you to get lost, or did I hear somethin’ wrong?” 

“Hey man—”

“Did I hear it wrong?” He squirms and Joel tightens his grip. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

“Jesus, no!” 

“Good. Glad we got that all cleared up,” Joel says, his eyes dangerously dark, flat and calm; angry but in control.

There’s no volatility in his anger. It makes you feel safe, protected, and, if arousal pools deep in your gut, no one has to know it but you.

His grip tightens on the other man’s wrist, jerking him closer, eyes not leaving his, though they’re nearly nose to nose. “Now, you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll break your goddamn arm.”

People are starting to notice the confrontation, eyes swiveling in your direction. 

You hook your hand in Joel’s elbow and tug. “Joel. Let’s go. C’mon.”

He only looks back to you once the other man stumbles away, wrist wrenched from Joel’s grip, too cowed to say anything. “Are you all right, Cherry?” He asks, hands cradling yours, his voice soft. 

“I’m okay. We need to leave, though.” 

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, his voice a rough press in the back of his throat. “I got you,” Joel says, “C’mon.” 

He pushes one hand against your spine and guides you through the crowd, disappearing within the writhing mass of people. You hold tight to Joel’s hand with one of yours, squeezing in what you hope is a reassuring way. Despite the confrontation, you feel oddly calm. Maybe because Joel is by your side, but maybe too because you’d stood up for yourself more firmly, more aggressively than you would have before. 

When you glance over, you can tell that though you are calm and proud, Joel is not. “Hey,” you tug him to a stop and pull him off the path, he reluctantly lets you, the crowd parting to let you through, like a great maw spitting you out, people darting in neon flashes around you like schools of anxious fish.

“I’m okay, Joel.” 

The tension around his jaw loosens a fraction. “I know it.” He clears his throat. “Was he a, uh, client?” 

“Yeah.” You knock your shoulder against his. “And a two pump chump.”

He half scoffs, the sound more like a surprised chuckle. His features loosen. “Well that don’t surprise me.” 

“I’m okay, Joel” you say again. 

He searches your gaze and eventually nods, conceding to that fact. “I know. But he don’t get to touch you like that.” 

The soft growl of his voice is protective, not possessive, caressing and something unnamed in the well of your stomach. The quiet anger is in your defense, the promise that you shouldn’t be touched roughly, or at all, against your will, going unsaid but not unheard. 

“He doesn’t. He didn’t.” 

“I heard,” he says, a spark of pride in his eyes. “Think you coulda handled it yourself. You did.” 

You step closer to him, hand circling his wrist. “Thank you anyway,” you murmur. “No one has ever defended me like that before.” 

“Lots of firsts today, I guess,” He jokes, shoulders loosen with the praise on your tongue, liquid warmth pooling between you. “But I always got you. Even if you got it handled.” Then, after just a beat of silence. “I didn’t scare you? I don’t want you to, uh, think about me like them, I—”

“Joel?” 

“Cher?” 

“It was hot.” 

He blinks, something in his eyes shifting a little darker, arousal thick in the air. You feel hot, skin tacky with dried sweat and the desperate need to feel him against you. “That so?” 

“Mm,” you lean into him, to feel the hot press of his body against yours, contact that isn’t enough. You need to climb inside him, stay curled around his heart. “You didn’t scare me. I want to show you how hot. Let me fuck you baby.” 

Typical, that he slides an arm around your back, presses his mouth to your ear and tells you that you need to eat first. 

You had already forgotten that he was supposed to be getting you food. 

.

.

.

You get tacos and lemonade as you walk out of the fair. It takes forever to navigate through the crowds that are all flowing in the opposite direction, looking for seats to watch the impending fireworks. 

Joel tosses your trash as you pass through the vast sea of parked cars, the first long whistle of a firework squealing into the sky as you climb into the cab of the truck. 

The ride back to the hotel is agonizingly long. 

His body is loose and relaxed next to yours, even when you slide across the bench seat and kiss his shoulder, wrap your fingers around the lithe muscle of his forearm, feeling the veins and tendons in his free hand, admiring the curl and shift of his flesh against yours. You push the longhorn into the corner of his windshield and tell him you won him just for him.

“Don’t normally get. . .Thank you, baby. I think I like it.” 

His unfinished sentence echoes. Doesn’t normally get given things? Probably, and he’d never ask. 

You want to lean over and put his dick in your mouth, to taste him, feel him pulse on your tongue, but you wait, taking stock of  his body instead, trying not to distract him. 

At a stoplight, he puts his hand beneath your skirt and feels the damp fabric of your underwear. “You’re being so goddamn good for me,” he coos. “So patient.” 

“I need you to drive a little faster.” 

He laughs, jaw flexing. “You’ll be all right.” 

It’s just a tad mean, rendered meaner when the light flickers green again and he takes the pressure of his fingers away.

It feels like he’s meandering on purpose, taking roads that don’t need to be taken, circling the hotel’s parking lot looking for a space even though there are plenty, moseying along through the lobby to the elevator and then down the hall to your room. 

He catches your wrists in one hand when you push him back into the wall just inside the door. 

The door snicks shut and you’re plunged into darkness, with only the light of the moon and yellow street light to guide you. 

The sound of your breathing and his is ragged, though you haven’t done anything yet. 

“Joel,” you whine. “Please.” 

“I know you need it.”

Arousal twists deep in your gut, feathers up through your lungs to the back of your throat where saliva pools in your mouth. Your wrists are still cupped in his hand. You could twist them out of his grip but you don’t want to. “Tell me what to do.” 

For a long time, you had not been able to switch your mind off, the line between pleasing your partner within reason and performing for him unclear and wavering in your mind. It’s gotten easier, in the intervening months since you started having sex again, to follow Joel and let yourself live in the moment with the navigating surety of his voice. 

The lines have started to right themselves again. You are starting to know yourself again, discover that you like occasionally giving yourself away. Because the hands are safe and yours and often more concerned with what you want than you are. 

“I thought you was gonna fuck me,” he says dryly. 

The tension breathes just a little, a breathless laugh sliding over your tongue. 

“Sure did, cowboy,” you murmur, hooking your fingers in the loops of his belt. 

You tug him toward the bed, and pull him on top of you. 

Joel holds his weight away from you, thick forearms braced around your head. Your eyes have adjusted to the light just enough to see his face by, the open desire and want looped in his gaze.

His fingers curl at your hips, the thick spread of his palms digging into your belly.

You fumble with his jeans as he pulls up your shirt and tugs down the cups of your bra, mouth warm and wet against your jaw and neck, the space between your breasts. He cups the sides of your tits in his hands and pushes them together, tongue sweeping over your nipples, the divot of your cleavage, groaning into your skin when you finally wrest the zipper down and twist your fingers around his cock, aching and warm in your hand. 

“You feel good,” you mumble, thumbing at the head of his cock, spreading the pre-come dripping there down with your fist. “So good.” 

“I need you, Cher,” he grunts, thrusting into your hand. 

You tighten your fist, still stroking smoothly, arm aching from the angle of your wrist. “You have me. I’m yours.” You tangle your fingers through his hair and tug just enough for him to grunt and scrape his teeth against your skin, like a dog giving a warning.

He pulls back and stands, thick cock bobbing between his legs. 

He reaches down and stokes himself, watching you watch him. Need tugs at your navel, makes you reach for him, hungry for him, for any part of him, all of him, but you don’t get far. He catches your hands and urges you onto your hands and knees. The warmth of him makes you shiver in the cold room.

“Cher,” he murmurs when he rakes your skirt up around your hips, and tugs your ruined panties to your knees, “Look at you.” 

Joel presses his cock between your legs, sliding it against your wet, heat, the head nudging at your clit until your thighs tremble. 

You hiss when he guides himself inside you, stretching your cunt out, pussy fluttering in response, desperate to have him inside you.

“You can take it,” he says gently, rubbing your spine. “My good, brave girl.” 

You shudder, his hands trailing to your hips and waist, then your breasts. He cups your tits in his hands and squeezes hard as he pushes himself to the hilt inside you. “Please, Joel,” you beg, when he doesn’t move, pinching and rolling your nipples instead, “Fuck me.” 

He doesn’t answer, guiding your hips backward into his, building a slow, patient rhythm. It’s enough to content you for the moment, building pressure in the pit of your belly, a slow burning fire that threatens to consume you. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “You’re doin’ so good. Play with yourself for me.” 

You lift one hand from the mattress to fit between your legs, feel the slippery thrust of him into you. His hand anchors against the back of your neck and you feel your mind go fuzzy and quiet, the only thing that exists is him, his body around yours, the sweaty, musky, sun soaked scent of him, before he fucks you so hard your arm gives out. 

His hand slides within yours, fingers tangled together against the mattress, cunt fluttering around him, lightning tracking over your nervous system in forks of pleasure, wrapping chords of need around your lungs that never burst. 

His hair brushes your temple when he leans over you. “Don’t stop touchin’, baby,” he demands, squeezing your hand in his. Your trembling fingers begin moving again when you hadn’t realized they stopped.

Your orgasm washes over you suddenly, plucked out of you like a shiny pink pearl. His hips stutter against your, thrusting messily a few more times before he comes with a grunt. 

Joel collapses against your back, warm and weighted and welcome, even if you’re shiny with sweat, muscles aching. 

His arm curls around your waist, hand flat against your belly that you no longer bother to suck in, or don’t remember to. “I got you,” he murmurs against the nape of your neck, curled around your spine when he shifts you onto your side. “You know that, don’t ya?” 

“Yes,” you whisper into the dark, breathing in his breath, the quiet, steadiness of him. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

His hand slips lower, between your legs again, stroking your pussy. He knows you so well, plays you so well, it’ll only take a few swipes of his fingers before you come again. 

“You got a couple more for me, baby?”