Summary: It might be the end of the world but pumpkin flavored everything lives on and you want some!
Author's Note: Just something cozy and cute for the changing season. This is what I hope Joel's post apocolyptic days could be filled with. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: soft fluffy fun
PS I'm shit at moodboards but I tried haha
Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist
“I want pumpkin everything,” you whine as you roll over and drape yourself on top of Joel.
He mumbles something sleepily and tugs you closer.
“Joel,” you say and poke his side.
He makes a sound similar to a disturbed bear.
Another poke.
“JOEL!”
One of his eyes pops open and he lets out a playful but warning growl.
“Darlin.”
“Yes?” you say sweetly with a bat of your lashes.
You dance your fingers over his chest, and he grabs your wrist, pulling your fingers to his lips and kissing the tip of each one.
“What are you goin’ on about? Pumpkins?”
“YES!”
He’s silent for a moment, clearly thinking, so you start to comb your fingers through his soft curls. His eyes begin to close, dark lashes fluttering against his scruffy cheeks, and you give his hair a sharp tug.
“OW!”
You giggle. “Soooo pumpkins?”
“You know…” he starts and tightens his hold on you, “if you weren’t so beautiful…”
He starts to trail off and your eyes narrow before you add, “AND…? That’s it? Just beautiful?”
He chuckles before kissing you.
“And smart and kind and sweet…and kissable.”
The words are whispered against your lips.
“Joel…you’re forgetting about my pumpkins.”
His lips trail across your jaw, stopping under your ear before he whispers, “no I’m not. We’re goin’ to take Callus and go for a ride. There must be a farm somewhere nearby. Maybe we can find some pumpkins growin’.”
The warmth of Joel’s body and the gentle clop of Callus’ hooves slowly lull you into a state of drowsiness.
“You fallin’ asleep on me back there gorgeous?”
“Hm?” you ask with a yawn, snuggling your cheek into his back.
“You’re supposed to be scoutin’ for pumpkins!”
Your hands slip under his flannel, and you rub along his stomach, then slide them to his thighs and do the same.
“I’m so comfy though,” you sigh, “you’re so comfy. And so warm.”
“Well, alright then. You enjoy the ride darlin,’ and I’ll keep lookin’.”
“Kay,” you mumble, sneaking your fingers under his tee shirt so you can feel his skin.
“Hey gorgeous,” he says with a soft tap on your arm that’s around his waist.
When he hears nothing he starts to laugh but it jostles you awake.
“Did you find a farm?” you ask as you stretch behind him.
He loosens your grip and gently slides from the horse, keeping you steady until he’s on his feet and can reach up to help you off.
You slide down and into his arms.
“Take a look darlin’.”
You peek around his shoulder and see the wild growth of large green leaves and vines strewn along dilapidated rows of soil.
“Joel…” you whisper shout in excitement. “You found some!”
“Let’s just hope they aren’t all rotten.”
The ride back to town is cooler under the setting sun and you shimmy your body as close to Joel as possible. He rests his arm over yours and takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
The bag of pumpkins you picked sits nestled between his legs and the smell of fresh earth hangs in the air.
“So, what are you gonna make me darlin’?”
You squeeze his sides as you think then start to rattle off a list.
“Muffins for sure. A pumpkin pie. Maybe even pumpkin bread, depending on what I can find to add to it. I can try cookies.”
He pats his stomach with a satisfied hum. “Can’t wait.”
“Will you help me bake?” you ask.
“Sure, gorgeous but only if I can lick the spoons.”
You giggle and slide your hands from his chest to his back, gently scratching as you go.
“You’re allowed since you got me my pumpkins.”
The next evening, on the porch of your small house, you sit nestled under a blanket on the swinging bench Joel built you with your feet tucked into his lap while he strums his guitar, and you sip some tea and munch on a pumpkin muffin.
He stops playing and catches your eye.
“Gimme some sugar darlin’.”
You sit up and hold the muffin out, but he dodges it and takes your chin between his fingers, gently pulling your lips to his for a soft taste.
After the kiss he takes a big bite, laughing when you finish the rest off by popping it in your mouth.
“These really came good,” you mumble through the mouth full.
“They did darlin.’ But nothin’s as sweet as you,” he murmurs, before kissing you again.
