#brother in law!joel
Text
How Long
pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller
description: your boyfriend tommy miller is a cheating bastard. luckily, your brother-in-law joel is nice enough to help you get your mind off of it.
word count: 5.1k
warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, this is porn, joel is a consent king though!, talk of horrible sex life, cheating, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, pet names
author's note: hey lovers (; I have been teasing this one awhile. i may continue this if you guys like it a lot. this was a request from an anon, i hope they like it!! i'm almost at 400 followers and I was gonna release this when I hit that, but I am too excited to share this. leave me your thoughts! my requests are still open! <3
You and Tommy went way back. You had crushed on him since high school, his charisma was hypnotic and you were hooked the moment he asked for your phone number. You became borderline obsessed. He was the ideal boyfriend. A huge mama’s boy, respectful, and hilarious.
You hadn’t ever questioned Tommy’s intentions with you. You two even talked marriage.
It wasn’t until his 26th birthday that you noted a shift in his behavior and when everything officially fell apart. You had just spent all afternoon at his brother, Joel’s, house. You and Joel arranged a surprise birthday barbeque and you were so excited to spend his special day with him and his whole family.
The whole day, you lied and said you were going for a girls day out with your sister, who was newly single. Instead, you and Joel slaved over the stove making Tommy’s favorites. You also decorated the shit out of Joel’s whole house, with the help of his tween daughter, Sarah.
Joel told him to come over to help with fixing up his truck, but in actuality you all jumped out of your hiding spots and yelled “happy birthday!”
He hardly reacted. He was dazed seeing your beautiful smile peak up behind Joel’s recliner.
His attitude was distant the whole night. He wouldn’t kiss you, and pulled away every time you went in to wrap your arms around his waist. He drank way more than you expected, tallying up about 10 beers.
Joel noticed it, too.
Joel even asked if he should start taking it easy and cool it on the beer. That only pissed Tommy off, which lead you to break up an argument in front of their own mother. Joel was annoyed, noting how shitty Tommy was being towards you. He was ready to fight his own brother on his birthday.
After the festivities and helping Joel with the dishes, you bid the whole family farewell. Tommy was too drunk to drive home, so you knew you would take him home in your Toyota Corolla, telling Joel you’d be back tomorrow to get his truck.
“Drive safe you two,” Joel said in the driveway after assisting Tommy to the car. Even after Tommy yelled and fussed at him, he still gladly accepted Joel’s help. He knew he couldn’t walk any more than 50 feet. You smiled watching them, happy they could make amends so quickly, and started up your engine.
The whole ride home, Tommy kept checking his flip phone. The screen would light up into his glazed over eyes and he’d huff in frustration.
“Everything okay, baby?” You finally decide to ask.
You glance over in his direction and you could tell he was annoyed by the question. You bite the inside of your cheek, anticipating him to blow up at you next.
Tommy was not a nice drunk. He would blow up at the drop of a hat. There’d been countless times where he’d pick a fight with you after you picked him up from a bar or a friend’s house. You learned not to talk on any rides home when he was drinking. But you couldn’t help yourself.
“You want my honest answer?”
Of course, you did. But when he says it like that?
“What is it, Tommy?”
He clears his throat, “I’m fuckin’ your sister.”
You felt your world crashing around you in that instant. You slam on your breaks on a main road, unable to actively drive due to the shocking news. You pull off into an abandoned parking lot, your hands shaking as you throw the car in park.
“What?”
You didn’t even want to look over at him, your eyes welling with tears.
“Yeah,” Is all he says, his voice changing, “I’m sick of lyin’. It’s only been a couple times. But she wants to meet back up.”
His drunk honesty was like vomit coming out of his mouth. Constant and sickening. He was so heartless with his words. This wasn’t your Tommy. What made everything so much worse was that it was your fucking little sister. You two didn’t have the best relationship, but you still cared deeply for her. This was the ultimate betrayal. You couldn’t believe that she, of all people, would try to destroy your picture perfect life.
Not so picture perfect anymore.
The soft hum of the radio takes up the air. You felt like you could suffocate with all of the tension.
“How long?”
He chuckles lowly, “Longer than I’d probably like to admit. Why do you think her ex dumped her?”
You finally turn to him. He looked remorseless, not even batting an eye at your distraught expression.
“Get the fuck out of my car, Tommy,” You say sternly, “I don’t want to see your face ever again.”
“Oh come on baby,” He groans, “At least take me home.”
“Get,” The tears begin to fall, “Out. Now.”
He throws his hands up in surrender, “Fine, don’t want to watch you cry, anyway. Makes me feel like shit.”
He opens the car door and you watch as he stumbles out. He practically falls on the concrete, his footing wobbly from the alcohol. If you were as callous as him, you’d back your car right over him, but instead you sped off as soon as the door slammed shut.
Your hands are still vibrating, unsure of what to do next, you pick up your phone and dial Joel.
He answers after three rings.
“‘Sup, sweetheart?”
His Southern drawl is hushed, like he was trying to be quiet for someone. It was late, maybe he was putting Sarah to bed.
“Your brother.”
It’s all you could say before breaking out into a deep sob. He becomes panicked, immediately springing into older brother mode, begging you to tell him where you were.
You finally catch your breath, “He’s a cheating bastard. He fucked my sister and I left him in the old Hecht’s parking lot.”
Joel lets out a long sigh, “Where are you?”
“I’m driving,” You mutter, choking back more sobs you feel coming up, “I can’t go home.”
You knew going home would be painful. All the photos lining your walls of you and Tommy. The pictures with your own sister. All of his belongings scattered all over the house. You knew you’d spiral, untangling the mess and missed signs.
“Come back to my house,” He suggests, “I’ll go get Tommy and take him home. The back door will be unlocked, just come right in and settle down. Make some tea or somethin’.”
You nod even though he can’t see you.
Joel was the older brother you never had. He was mature and honest. You had come to him a couple times to analyze Tommy and his behavior. It didn’t happen often, but he was great at advice. You trusted him. He was family to you.
“Thanks Joel,” You wipe your tears, “See you in a bit.”
-
Luckily Sarah was fast asleep upstairs, snuggled up soundly, while you tried to contain your sobs. You couldn’t believe how drastically this evening turned.
Tommy cheated on you with your sister.
The man you were hoping to marry and settle down with? The one who was adored by your parents? The one you told all your darkest secrets to?
You had no clue how he would ever come back from this. And he did it with your sister?
You still could not grasp that it was her. The girl who always came to you for boy advice? Hell, she came to you last week asking about a guy she had be-
It was fucking Tommy.
She wanted advice on how to woo your fucking boyfriend.
You wanted to strangle her too, but who knows what lies he may have been leading. You wanted the whole story, but you didn’t want to open a can of worms so late in the evening. You weren’t going to be sleeping, plagued by your own thoughts and emotions.
You’re curled up on Joel’s couch, using his huge knitted blanket as a cape. You turned on the TV only to give your cries some background noise.
Just when you stop the tears, Joel walks in with this look on his face. Disappointment. Rage.
“How ya holdin’ up, sweet girl?”
Joel had tons of pet names for you, but that was a new one. He has always called you anything but your actual name.
“Not good,” You say, choking back more tears. You were practically all cried out, your cheeks were stained bright red. Joel shuffles over to you, dropping his keys down on the coffee table. He plops down on the couch next to me.
“He’s a fuckin’ idiot,” He mutters, patting your unclothed thigh. Maybe it was the words he said that sent goosebumps up your body, not the fact he took a long second to remove his hand from your leg.
“I just can’t… Why would he do this?”
He huffs, shrugging his broad shoulders, “I asked him and he said it’s cuz you ain’t puttin’ out like you used to. Said that your sister came onto him and he couldn’t say no.”
It felt like another stab to the heart. You and Tommy had sex like three times a week. Every time he came inside you and praised you. You on the other hand, never came and had grown sick of having to finish yourself off every time it happened. So yeah, maybe you weren’t the eager youngin’ you were before, but you still fucked him whenever he wanted.
“That’s horseshit! I fuck him all the time. He is just… he’s a fucking cheating bastard. I just can’t believe it was her. Like what man fucks around with his girl’s own sister? He knows better.”
You’re trying to rationalize his behavior in your head. But Joel is not as kind.
“He obviously doesn’t, sweet girl. He…” He drifts off, catching himself for saying how he truly felt about his brother. Once he looks into your puffy red eyes, his tune changes, “He’s a stupid motherfucker for letting a girl like you go. Don’t know much about your sister, but she has some explainin’ to do, too.”
Your heart flutters a bit. Joel’s accent was so much more pronounced when he was angry, it was kind of hot. Why are you thinking that right now?
“I just can’t believe he would do something so… heartless. He didn’t even act sorry, Joel.”
“The alcohol made him bold, that’s for sure. Doesn’t ‘cuse the behavior, but ya know,” He sits back into his couch, “‘m sorry, sweetheart.”
You turn to face him, “Makes me think of the time he accused me of cheating.”
“He accused you of cheatin’? When?”
It was years ago, right after your 21st birthday. Joel and Tommy took you and a couple of your friends out to a club in downtown Austin. You took so many shots, you ended up dancing a bit too close with Joel. It led to a fight you had never brought up to Joel himself, but nonetheless, Tommy thought you had a thing for his older brother.
Sure, Joel was nice. He was a bit more serious than Tommy, always trying to be the rational one. He was an excellent and present father, dedicating his entire life to raising Sarah. He had similar features to Tommy. Tall, dark hair, beautiful brown eyes. When you talked to him, those eyes of his were so laser focused on what you said, sometimes you found yourself stumbling over your words.
Maybe it was a little crush.
“It was years ago,” You confess, looking down at your bitten back cuticles, “He thought I had a thing for you.”
His eyes zero in on your lips, like he’s trying to take the words out of your mouth, one by one.
“A thing? What type of thing?”
You shake your head, pushing your face into your hands. This wasn’t something you wanted to talk about, especially not now. But it was distracting you from thinking about what you could’ve done. Instead, you’re reminding yourself of all the shitty things Tommy has done over the years. That “perfect boyfriend” you had in the beginning was falling apart a long time ago. You just hadn’t seen the signs right in front of you. Now here they are, splattered all over the floor.
“He thought you and I had a bit too much fun on my 21st, I don't know! He always acted so weird when I talked about you. You’re like my brother, I would never cross that line.”
The silence in the room was deafening. You finally raise your head, looking at Joel’s contemplative face.
“Never?”
You stare at him, looking for a smile to crack across his face. Like it was a joke or something.
But it wasn’t.
The air in the room shifted.
“Joel,” You mumble, before his fingers reach up and trace your bottom lip gently, “We can’t.”
“Why ‘cause I’m like your brother, or ‘cause you’re still banking on kissin’ and makin’ up with Tommy?”
It was a fair question. Making up with Tommy was never even a question, though. After being burned so harshly, you didn’t see any redemption. He was done for. Once that confession slipped past his lips, he was as good as gone.
This would be the greatest revenge. Fucking his brother?
What could you lose?
Joel could be your rebound. Something to ease the harsh sting you still felt in your heart. You start to feel guilty pile in the pit of your tummy. But then you hear Tommy’s words ringing in your head.
“I’m fuckin’ your sister.”
Yeah, you could use some revenge.
“You can’t tell him,” You murmur, making sure it’s in a whisper. Even if you wanted this to be revenge, you didn’t want Tommy to know, “Ever.”
“It’ll be between you and me, baby girl.”
You nod, finally accepting his offer. He grabs your legs and pulls you into his lap. You never thought you’d see the day where you would be mounted on top of Joel Miller. His eyes feasted on you in a way that sent tingles straight down to your core.
“I can’t lie, baby girl,” He purrs, his hands tracing you from your thighs all the way up to your shoulders, “I have thought this scenario out countless times.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” His hand finds its way to your neck, “Seein’ you at family barbeques, watchin’ you at bars with Tommy. Always wanted to pull you into a bathroom and get a feel of these,” He runs his hands down your chest, catching the edge of your yellow tank top. Tommy’s favorite color on you. He pulls it down, revealing your white bra underneath. It was your favorite push up, a Christmas present from Tommy.
He was littering your body, but instead of Tommy’s hands removing every trace of himself away from your body, it was his brother.
Joel doesn’t take note of your dazed expression, he’s too focused on your cleavage spilling over your bra. His fingers trace back to the clasp, his fingers expertly unhooking it. It sent chills down your back, while your boobs fall further out of the bra. He helps you shimmy it off your front, his eyes lighting up when your boobs rest right in his eyeline.
“Fuckin’ Christ,” He groans, his thumb and pointer finger tugging on your left nipple. You hiss, letting yourself get out of your own head for a moment. Your boobs were extremely sensitive, which is why every man you’d ever been with used that to their advantage. Instead of treating your pussy to a good time, they just toyed with your nipples while drilling into you, which usually had you cumming after a couple minutes. Deep down, you wished Tommy had actually gave your pussy the time of day. Eat you out, finger you until you saw stars. But he never had “time for that”.
His words.
Joel wraps his lips around your nipple, letting his tongue circle around your areola. He uses his open hand to massage your other tit. Once he releases your nipple, he leaves love bites at the swell of your boobs. He groans at your reaction, which was grinding your hips achingly slow across his lap.
“Mmm,” You hum, your hands finding his brown locks, “More.”
“‘m not gonna fuck you here,” He scowls, “Gonna take you to my bed.”
Without warning, he stands up, gripping onto your thighs to take you with him. You yelp in shock, throwing your arms around his neck.
“I got you,” He states, walking down the hall to his bedroom. You had been in there before, only to grab his wallet one day when you guys were in a rush to get to Sarah’s soccer game.
It was only slightly messy and smelled like him. Clean laundry and strawberry shampoo.
You were thrown atop his unmaid sheets, bouncing a bit at the impact. You decide to use the time of Joel crawling onto to the bed, to completely discard your tank top. Joel’s body takes over yours, his one hand propping him up, the other feeling your sides and scooping up your breast.
“Think I’m gonna take my time with you,” He grunts, his hand finding your short’s belt loops, “Make you forget everythin’ and focus on me.”
You nod, agreeing to his terms.
He sits back on his knees, tugging down your shorts and thong. He hisses as soon as he notes the wetness on your lacey panties. Once he tosses the items beside the bed, he nudges your knees apart.
“Damn, baby girl,” He just looks at you completely spread for him, shaking his head in disbelief, “Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot. Could look at this pussy every minute of every day.”
You moan before you can retaliate, your mind responding to his fingers tracing your slit up and down. You watch him crawl up you, his lips so close to yours. You two hadn’t even kissed yet, instantly going to tearing each other’s clothes off. It felt more intimate, more real.
He finally leans in, pursing his lips to meet yours.
Joel was gentler than expected. Tommy was always hurried, his kisses only to warm you up a bit. You never really kissed during sex either, because he always had you doggy, which wasn’t ideal for kisses.
Joel’s kisses took your breath away. He was slow and methodical, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You finally decide to pull him down onto your naked body, his hips settling between yours. The action made him a bit more eager, as he grinded his crotch into your wet center.
“Gonna have me cumming in my jeans, sweet thing,” He laughs, pulling away from your swollen lips. He crawls back down the bed, his shoulders resting between your thighs this time.
“What are you doing?” You ask, hesitantly.
He smiles again, “‘m gonna eat this beautiful pussy of yours. Unless you don’t want me to.”
You had no real objections, it just something you had never fully enjoyed with anyone else before. You were willing to see what Joel Miller could bring to the table. You nod your head in agreement, letting him rest his hand on your lower tummy, holding you in place for his mouth. He ducks down, pressing small kisses over your clit. His actions already had you writhing under his touch.
He continues on, gripping your stomach a bit harder as he explores your pussy with his tongue. He switches between sucking and licking, eventually settling with running his tongue in circles inside of you. You were a groaning mess, your hand eventually finding your mouth so you could control the volume. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself with how loud you could be. He stops as soon as you do it.
“You ain’t gotta do that,” He says, his mouth wet with your slick, “I wanna hear those pretty little moans of yours. Don’t worry about anyone hearin’ ya.”
You take your hand off your mouth and he continues on with his assault on your folds. It’s sending you into overdrive, watching him go down on you. He was so hot, splayed out between your thighs, devouring you whole.
His exploration ends with him wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking you up like a straw. You couldn’t believe how good the vibration felt.
You were feeling that heat in your stomach, so as soon as Joel slipped his hand up and began adding fingers inside you, you knew you were done for. He starts with two, fucking you slowly and systematically. He curls his fingers up like a hook, his lips still wrapped around your bud.
This was it. This is what you were missing.
Your unrestrained pleas don’t fall on deaf ears. Your orgasm hits you like a semi-truck. You reach for anything in your vicinity, which happened to be Joel’s hair and his white sheets. He didn’t let up on you as you came around his fingers, fucking you through it.
“Holy f-fuck,” You stutter, “Joel what the fuck?”
“We are just gettin’ started, sweetheart,” He states, standing up beside the bed to take his clothes off. His cock was standing at attention in his boxers before he tore them off.
Tommy was above average, but Joel was well endowed.
You gape at the view, unable to really form a coherent sentences.
“You’re droolin’,” He jokes, finding his way back on top of you. You giggle, letting the joke roll of your shoulder, instead of letting it embarrass you. He finds your lips again, kissing you roughly this time. You could tell he was aching for you, his hips finding their way between yours again.
“Oh,” You say, feeling his tip nudge your folds, “I’m on birth control, by the way.”
“I assumed so,” He states plainly, kissing your neck and chest, “Won’t cum in you unless you want me to.”
You grin, “You’re all about consent, ain’t ya?”
He laughs, “You’re in control here, baby girl. ‘M just here to get your mind off all the shit.”
You have never been so enamored by a man in your life. He was saying all the right things, but you knew in your heart he wasn’t just saying anything. Joel was a genuine guy. He never lied to you or belittled you.
The longer you’re under him the more you start to realize that this is what you’ve wanted all along.
He brings you back to reality with an feverish kiss, drawing you back to the moment. His hands trail down your side, tickling you a bit.
“Hey,” You murmur, pulling away from his delicious mouth, “I want to… I uh-“
You don’t know how to say it. To be honest, you and Tommy were in a routine with sex so you didn’t know how to ask to suck someone off. You usually just did it first to get it done and over with. But you felt like you needed to do it for Joel, not out of obligation, but because you wanted to see him squirm under your touch. You have thought about it more than once.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“Let me suck your dick.”
He smiles, letting out a slight chuckle at your demand. He never thought he’d hear that coming from your mouth. He waits a second, acting like he’s seriously contemplating the offer.
Of course he was going to accept.
You sit up, giving him more space to lay down next to you. You crawl over his legs, settling between his calves. His cock was red, the veins so prominent. It was just waiting for you. He tucks his one arm behind his head, propping it up to watch you put on a show.
“Let me know if I’m doing okay,” You ask sheepishly. You wanted to punch yourself for saying something so stupid. You were never confident in your abilities and you didn’t want to disappoint Joel.
He nods, watching you grab onto his shaft with your hands, “You’ll do great, baby girl.”
You spit into your hands once you realize you need more lubrication. You crouch more, jerking him off slowly. He is already so reactive, throwing his head back against his headboard.
You begin to tease him, peppering kisses onto his shaft and tip as it leaked. You smile when you hear him hiss at you toying with him. You finally wrap your lips around his dick, sucking in your cheeks as you pull your head back. He was so big you couldn’t physically get your mouth completely down his length. He was girthy, too, which didn’t help either when it came to almost unhinging your jaw to take all of him.
“Such a good girl,” He praises, taking your hair into his grip, “You ain’t gotta take it all.”
The reassurance was comforting. You didn’t feel any pressure with Joel, which only made him more desirable in your eyes.
You watch his face twist in delight every time you take him into your mouth, wrapping his cock in your saliva.
“Keep doin’ that and ‘m gonna cum in that mouth,” His drawl is so buttery and deep, your center literally clenches.
You pull off of him, gaining some confidence in your bedroom talk.
“Need that done somewhere else.”
He shakes his head, sitting up more to manhandle you up to his lap. As you slide across his body, you feel his wet cock touch your inner thighs.
Your mouth falls open as soon as his hands grab your hips and settle you right over his length. You are on your knees on either side of his thighs, looking down at him and his absolutely spent expression. His curls were standing in all different directions and his eyes were dark with anticipation.
“Want me to do the honors?”
He grabs his cock, positioning it right below your opening. Your lips twitch upward, shaking your head positively.
He lines you up, pushing his hips upward. He is stretching you immediately, the angle making you crumble under his touch already. Your legs practically give out when he’s partially sheathed in you, which causes you just to sit and take the rest of him in you.
“Oh my fucking god,” You moan out, shutting your eyes to soak in every twitch, “I have never been this fucking full.”
Your eyes fly open, realizing what you just insinuated.
“Don’t worry, baby girl. I knew he wasn’t givin’ you exactly what you needed,” He starts to guide your hips to circle his, “I give you what you need.”
You never expected him to be so confident, but it was so hot. You rested your hands on his pecks and started easing yourself up and down onto his length. His lips flick upward, watching you get yourself off on his dick. He loved watching you like this, just enjoying yourself.
After a minute, he realizes he can’t let you be the only one doing the work. You were so in your own world, riding him and feeling every inch of him. Your blissed out mind gets over taken when he grabs you and rolls on onto your back. He is on his knees as he grabs your legs with both of his hands, spreading you out. He grinds into you, his cock hitting you at a different angle now.
You moan out, reaching out to grab his shoulders. He takes the hint and dips down to capture your lips again, caging your body between his. He picks up the pace when you start to press your tongue forward into his mouth. You can’t help but whimper at how good he feels.
“You fuck me so good,” You mewl. He was panting, his hot breath fanning your wildly tangled hair. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing on making you feel good. Every pump inside you brought you closer to that familiar warm feeling. He notices your heat clenching around him, which makes him want to change up his technique. He pushes off the pillows, grabbing your hips and slamming into you at a rate you didn’t know Joel was capable of.
“God, I can’t believe how fuckin’ good you feel, baby,” He pants, his thumb finding your swollen bud. As soon as he puts pressure there, you’re screaming out. “Mhm, that feel good? This cock better than his?”
“Yes, Joel, oh my god!”
He doesn’t let up. He wants to see you fall apart so bad, knowing those beautiful whimpers will send him into ecstasy.
“Cum for me, baby girl. Know you’re aching to,” He clenches his teeth, “Let go.”
You have never had your vision go white when you orgasm. It’s like you’re about to see the gates to Heaven. He holds your body, making sure to feel every nerve in your body fire off into euphoria. You don’t even know what you’re saying, you just know it’s an iteration of his name and a bunch of cuss words as you reach your peak.
You were absolutely obsessed. You knew it as soon as the come down brought back your vision and you saw Joel. He was throwing his head back while painting your insides with his cum. He looks so delicious, his entire toned upper body glistening with sweat.
He had to be the only man in the world, in that moment.
Once he pulls out, you truly realize how sensitive your core is. You shiver, feeling his cum trickling down your backside. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. You just fucked your boyfriend’s brother. And it was the best sex you’d ever had in your life.
You thought you’d feel that all too familiar regret, but instead you just look over at Joel as he flops down next to you. He’s staring at you, a slight smirk playing on his lips. You were trying to find the right words to say to him. He just did the Lord’s work.
Do you say thank you?
“You okay,” He asks while he runs his hand up your arm, causing goosebumps to litter your skin.
You grin, “I’m okay.”
“Do you want to stay here tonight?”
He was worried you’d go home and see Tommy passed out on the couch where he left him and regret everything. He knew you would probably stay here anyway, but he anticipated you taking the guest room next to Sarah’s.
But you weren’t going to take the guest room. No, you wanted to spend the rest of the night in his arms. Maybe even go for round two.
“As long as I get to stay right here,” You purr, taking his hand from your arm. You bring it up to your lips and kiss his fingers, “Right beside you.”
END
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel miller the last of us#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x reader smut#brother in law joel miller#tommy miller#gracieheartspedro
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I always figured when I got older, God would sorta come into my life somehow.
He didn't.
I don't blame him.
#no country for old men#ethan coen#joel coen#the coen brothers#coen brothers#josh brolin#javier bardem#tommy lee#woody harrelson#anton chigurh#filmedit#thrilleredit#2007#moviegifs#movie lists#movie sessions#mine#retribution is not a law and longing for it doesn't assure it's arrival#my fancy ass way of saying the ending sucked but that's life#and surprisingly that's what makes it good
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I miss the Emperor of Mezalea so much
#he is just the best little guy#hes a sceptic#he loves his wife#and his brother-in-law#and he calles him babe but its normal#he died of grief#someone bring him back home#shitpost#joel smallishbeans#smallishbeans#empires smp s1
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Jimmy assigned Little Brother by Empires SMP
#empires jimmy#empires smp jimmy#empires smp season 2#empires smp#empiresblr#they just love pestering their server little brother#god joel laughs in the face of human laws
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THE BLOOD CURDLING SCREAM I JUST LET OUT
THERE’S ANOTHER LIFE SERIES
WE GET SCARLET PEARL BACK, SMALLETHO INTERACTIONS MAYBE EVEN
I’m so glad everyone’s out of the house because I was genuinely so shocked
OH AND THERE’S BOOGEYMEN AGAIN
AND THE BROTHERS (jimmy joel grian) ARE A TEAM LETS GO??
#limited life#joel smallishbeans#my reaction is always gonna be this bizzare#i cant wait#im saying brothers because i still stick by my hc of the grian liz jim siblings and joel being brother in law
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Trafficblr, I have a very important question! What kind of bird is Martyn?
#martyn inthelittlewood#evo#traffic smp#I see Grian Pearl and Jimmy as definitely siblings#and I think Martyn should be either their brother or weird cousin#so ig follow up do you see him as a brother or weird cousin?#we p much all agree Jimmy is a canary#Grian has a bunch of different designs but my personal fave is the macaw#i just think it suits him so well#it’s flashy and colorful#then Pearl is usually a moth but I see her as a barn owl#to me all four of em are avians#then Lizzie is fae#ik esmp s1 is over (except certain someones in recent videos)#but you can pry Lizzie Jimmy siblings from my cold dead hands#so she’s all of their half sister#and Joel is also fae and is their brother in law but really they’re all so close he’s treated like a blood brother#family dynamics are so important to me#i Must know what kind of bird Martyn is so I can draw them all
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It is SUPER jarring to see ppl shit to characters you view as siblings. It's like "hey it's cool you like saying they're married! I like saying they're related and pick on each other constantly bc siblings amiright" fandom is cool even if you have different opinions
#shadow says a thing#this feels all over the place#for reference i'm talking ab mcyt shit#like the whole jimmy/martyn thing or jimmy/joel or scar/cub or skizz/impulse#they are all brothers to me#jimmy and joel are brothers in law and always will be
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Hehehe now do the empires rp polycule /hj
I HATE IT HERE. HOW DO I EVEN. I'M-
(For context the polycule in question is Shrub and Lizzie, then Jizzie, then Joel and Oli and Grian. It is a disaster. How did we get here. Why is Grian there. We will never know.)
#also siblings is checked bc seablings exist and also flower husbands#and if jimmy wasn't his brother in law joel would 100% claim him js#pho.asks#eevee-eclair#ask game
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Does Joel Paris know that he's washed
#cricket#he was only decent when cam Bancroft was his brother in law#As soon as that fell through he was a nobody#Just a nothing person#no offence Joel but
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in honor of that anon who said jews have done nothing for the world, here’s a non exhaustive list of things we’ve done for the world:
arts, fashion, and lifestyle:
jeans - levi strauss
modern bras - ida rosenthal
sewing machines - isaac merritt singer
modern film industry - carl laemmle (universal pictures), adolph zukor (paramount pictures), william fox (fox film forporation), louis b. mayer (mgm - metro-goldwyn-mayer), harry, sam, albert, and jack warners (warner bros.), steven spielberg, mel brooks, marx brothers
operetta - jacques offenbach
comic books - stan lee
graphic novels - will eisner
teddy bears - morris and rose michtom
influential musicians - irving berlin, stephen sondheim, benny goodman, george gershwin, paul simon, itzhak perlman, leonard bernstein, bob dylan, leonard cohen
artists - mark rothko
actors - elizabeth taylor, jerry lewis, barbara streisand
comedians - lenny bruce, joan rivers, jerry seinfeld
authors - judy blume, tony kushner, allen ginsberg, walter mosley
culture:
esperanto - ludwik lazar zamenhof
feminism - betty friedan, gloria steinem, ruth bader ginsberg
queer and trans rights - larry kramer, harvey milk, leslie feinberg, abby stein, kate bornstein, frank kameny, judith butler
international women's day - clara zetkin
principles of journalizm, statue of liberty, and pulitzer prize - joseph pulitzer
"the new colossus" - emma lazarus
universal declaration of human rights - rene samuel cassin
holocaust remembrance and human rights activism - elie wiesel
workers rights - louis brandeis, rose schneiderman
public health care, women's rights, and children's rights - lillian wald
racial equity - rabbi abraham joshua heschel, julius rosenwald, andrew goodman, michael schwerner
political theory - hannah arendt
disability rights - judith heumann
black lives matter slogan and movement - alicia garza
#metoo movement - jodi kantor
institute of sexology - magnus hirschfeld
technology:
word processing computers - evelyn berezin
facebook - mark zuckerberg
console video game system - ralph henry baer
cell phones - amos edward joel jr., martin cooper
3d - leonard lipton
telephone - philipp reis
fax machines - arthur korn
microphone - emile berliner
gramophone - emile berliner
television - boris rosing
barcodes - norman joseph woodland and bernard silver
secret communication system, which is the foundation of the technology used for wifi - hedy lamarr
three laws of robotics - isaac asimov
cybernetics - norbert wiener
helicopters - emile berliner
BASIC (programming language) - john george kemeny
google - sergey mikhaylovich brin and larry page
VCR - jerome lemelson
fax machine - jerome lemelson
telegraph - samuel finley breese morse
morse code - samuel finley breese morse
bulletproof glass - edouard benedictus
electric motor and electroplating - boris semyonovich jacobi
nuclear powered submarine - hyman george rickover
the internet - paul baran
icq instant messenger - arik vardi, yair goldfinger,, sefi vigiser, amnon amir
color photography - leopold godowsky and leopold mannes
world's first computer - herman goldstine
modern computer architecture - john von neumann
bittorrent - bram cohen
voip internet telephony - alon cohen
data archiving - phil katz, eugene roshal, abraham lempel, jacob ziv
nemeth code - abraham nemeth
holography - dennis gabor
laser - theodor maiman
instant photo sharing online - philippe kahn
first automobile - siegfried samuel marcus
electrical maglev road - boris petrovich weinberg
drip irrigation - simcha blass
ballpoint pen and automatic gearbox - laszlo biro
photo booth - anatol marco josepho
medicine:
pacemakers and defibrillators - louise robinovitch
defibrillators - bernard lown
anti-plague and anti-cholera vaccines - vladimir aronovich khavkin
polio vaccine - jonas salk
test for diagnosis of syphilis - august paul von wasserman
test for typhoid fever - ferdinand widal
penicillin - ernst boris chain
pregnancy test - barnhard zondek
antiretroviral drug to treat aids and fight rejection in organ transplants - gertrude elion
discovery of hepatitis c virus - harvey alter
chemotherapy - paul ehrlich
discovery of prions - stanley prusiner
psychoanalysis - sigmund freud
rubber condoms - julius fromm
birth control pill - gregory goodwin pincus
asorbic acid (vitamin c) - tadeusz reichstein
blood groups and rh blood factor - karl landsteiner
acyclovir (treatment for infections caused by herpes virus) - gertrude elion
vitamins - caismir funk
technique for measuring blood insulin levils - rosalyn sussman yalow
antigen for hepatitus - baruch samuel blumberg
a bone fusion technique - gavriil abramovich ilizarov
homeopathy - christian friedrich samuel hahnemann
aspirin - arthur ernst eichengrun
science:
theory of relativity - albert einstein
theory of the electromagnetic field - james maxwell
quantum mechanics - max born, gustav ludwig hertz
quantum theory of gravity - matvei bronstein
microbiology - ferdinand julius cohn
neuropsychology - alexander romanovich luria
counters for x-rays and gamma rays - robert hofstadter
genetic engineering - paul berg
discovery of the antiproton - emilio gino segre
discovery of cosmic microwave background radiation - arno allan penzias
discovery of the accelerating expansion of the universe - adam riess and saul merlmutter
discovery that black hole formation is a robust prediction of the general theory of relativity - roger penrose
discovery of a supermassive compact object at the center of the milky way - andrea ghez
modern cosmology and the big bang theory - alexander alexandrovich friedmann
stainless steel - hans goldschmidt
gas powered vehicles
interferometer - albert abraham michelson
discovery of the source of energy production in stars - hans albrecht bethe
proved poincare conjecture - grigori yakovlevich perelman
biochemistry - otto fritz meyerhof
electron-positron collider - bruno touschek
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Pls tell me there's a part two for "if the door wasn't shut". I need Joel and Ellie to come back and reader avoiding them and not speaking to them and just walking away when they try to talk to her. Ofc happy ending but make them work for that forgiveness
i would let you in
▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader
▹ — summary: part two of if the door wasnt shut — after being abandoned in jackson, tommy and maria take care of you. joel and ellie’s return hurts far more than their departure.
▹ — a/n: i have no idea how the timeline is gonna work out in the show so ignore that!!! i went off on a bit of a tangent in this one… oops. anyways. let me know if you guys do want a part three!!!
▹ — warnings: angst!!!! AND MORE ANGST!!! oh yeah and a bit of angst too. father figure joel (except he’s failed that role for reader), arguments, throwing of objects, general hopeless feelings, sadness, not proofread, also you WILL like pottery and ceramics sorry!! almost father figure tommy….
▹ — tags: @faceache111 @viknowsbest @inkiqayo @wrcn9fvlcver @pedropascalsrealgf @httpjiikook @issybee0611 @liableperfections @dksjskx @canpillowscry @beeblisss @lizzylynch1 @randomstory56 @hiphopdancer101universe (once again just tagged everyone who asked for pt 2! pls let me know if you want the tag removed<;3)
masterlist | PART THREE
howl’s song associations!
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Everything in this world felt empty. It all felt so… weightless. Like you could pick something up, and it would have no meaning. Sometimes, you felt that way, too.
You couldn’t help it.
It was like everything you felt had drained from your very being, leaving your deflated and aching and empty.
But the emptiness sometimes masked as rage, and then you were throwing all of these meaningless things at meaningless walls, sick to death of hearing yourself yell about things that didn’t matter, that held no weight.
It didn’t matter what it was, it just gave you the shortest reprieve of feeling something, of feeling angry. It burned hot in your veins, and for a moment, you were full of fire. Until your oxygen ran out, and the fire spluttered before it died away, leaving you panting and exhausted and empty once more.
You knew it concerned Maria. Knew that she didn’t need this, the stress of having some kid that lacked the ability to even feel remorseful for breaking the plate that she had only just given you. She should’ve been focusing on the impending arrival of her actual kid, not feeling responsible for the one her brother-in-law had practically dumped on her doorstep.
But you didn’t ask for this either, did you?
Even when you had tried to leave, tried to get a horse out of its stall in the stable, tried to follow the only people you believed you could trust, you couldn’t.
You just about remember the way Tommy had pulled you back from where you had been frantic, trying to untie the horse in a frenzy as your chest heaved, the abandonment trying to deep into your bones. You had coughed and gasped, doing everything you could to try and get this feeling out of you, but nothing had worked.
Then, you had woken up on Tommy and Maria’s couch, the two of them beginning to doze off as the night crept up on them. It had been Maria who had jolted awake first, even when you just rustled the blanket they’d placed over you.
You didn’t want her pity then, had outright refused it. The two adults had tried to comfort you, but you had made it so difficult — because why should you make it easy? Your trust had been burnt up, your tether had reached its end, and you felt… hopeless.
There was nobody left for you in this world — and you wouldn’t let Maria or Tommy try to change that, even with their consistent attempts at being there for you.
They had relented to letting you remain in the house across the road, despite wanting you to remain in their home. They brought over meals every day, whether it be from the pub in town, or from their own kitchen.
Luckily for you, they hadn’t mentioned the cuts to your hand, the ones you had gotten from scraping up shards of ceramic off of the floor, after yet another one of your meltdowns. Sometimes, the only way you could actually feel that anger, was to let it out. And considering they hadn’t given you any of your weapons back, throwing plates and bowls and cups against all available surfaces had to suffice.
It had been weeks — you were sure of it. As much as you tried not to take count, the absence of the only people you had left made the days and nights pass slowly, so slowly that it was just a matter of how many days had you been throwing things? Or how many nights had remained restless?
It was on the twenty-sixth day that Maria had enough, seeing the remains of yet another plate in the garbage around the back of your house.
“Okay, if you’re gonna keep breaking these, you’re gonna have to start replacing them.” Maria told you, voice sterner than it had been in a long time. She’d tried the gentle approach, tried being soft, tried letting you heal in your own way, but it didn’t seem to be working. So strict Maria it would have to be. “Come with me.”
You followed her, with some reluctance, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice. After all, as much as you hated to admit it, you relied on her. Without her, you were screwed.
So, you shrugged on your coat, and followed her as the snow crunched underneath your boots. She took turns so quickly, with so little hesitation, that you were almost surprised. You’d been in Jackson for a few weeks, and this didn’t feel familiar to you.
She tugged open a shop door, coughing away the dust that shot up at her, and felt the wall for a light switch, humming in victory when the store lit up.
You looked around, confused. You didn’t have money to buy new plates… and this place looked empty. You turned to Maria, watching as she wiped the dust off of a circular… machine?
“Well, it’s not the cleanest,” She acknowledged, “But there’s some supplies left out back, and the boys know where to get more clay.”
“Clay? What— Maria, what is this place?” You asked, running your finger against the dusty grooves of a wooden table, feeling bumps of dried something, and leaning forward to inspect the tools that had been abandoned on the table.
“Old ceramics shop,” She told you, opening the door to the back section of the shop and opening a window to let the air breathe. “Hasn’t been a big priority, really. Came in to get some plates when some of the houses had none, but nobody’s been all to bothered ‘bout fixing it up.”
“So, why am I here?” You raised your eyebrows, starting to get annoyed.
“Because, you’re gonna fix it up. If you’re gonna keep breaking all my damn plates, you’re gonna have to replace ‘em.” Maria replied, opening the windows at the front of the shop, and twisting the sign on the door from open, to closed.
“I… I don’t know shit about making plates.” You offered up quietly, fingers picking at your nails as you tried to get out of this. You did feel… almost guilty, about her plates, but at the same time, it was all you could do.
“Well, no better time to learn. Got some books around here, that’ll help, I’m sure. You can figure this out.” Maria said, your name falling softly from her lips, and you missed the other thing she was doing, which would be giving you something to do, giving you a purpose.
You huffed, feeling something nervous brewing in your stomach, but nodded at Maria before she left. You looked around the shop, eyebrows creasing as you realised you had a lot of work to do.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Tommy’s face was a sight, the first time he walked into the old ceramics shop.
When Maria had come to him, nearing tears in her excitement, telling him that you had finally done the ceramics shop some good, he hadn’t known exactly what to expect. He was well aware how much time you spent in that old place, and he had scolded you over it numerous times, saying the dust would do you no favours… or whatever.
The two of them knew that really, the ceramics shop had done you some good, but Tommy didn’t quite realise how much effort you had really put into it. Sure, it had been more than a few weeks now, but you were on your own in fixing it up.
So when you opened the door, something so close to a smile on your face, he was surprised. Shocked, even.
The surfaces were clean, for a start, which was nothing short of a miracle in his eyes. The furniture had been put back into place, not counting the pile of rotted wood that was outside, unsalvageable. Old ceramic work had been cleaned and put on display, alongside two names — the artists who made them, Tommy realised quickly.
And then there were the plates sat on the counter. New, slightly misshapen, and there was a box next to them, already filled with old newspaper.
“To replace the ones I broke.” You told him, when he looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. Tommy couldn’t help the smile that grew on him, something proud in his chest.
He hadn’t known you for nearly as long as Joel had, but god, he could recognise it in you immediately. The resemblance to his niece, just barely peeking out when you didn’t bury that part of you. He could see why Joel had gotten so… attached. Even if you didn’t resemble Sarah within your mannerisms in a way that was uncanny, you were a good kid.
Despite all the plate-throwing, name-calling, yelling and tears he’d seen from you, he knew you were good. He couldn’t blame you for your reactions, not with the way you had been left behind. And Tommy — he could understand why Joel did it, far more than you could, at least, but he recognised the pain in you.
Even if Joel did it as a result of his need to protect you, it didn’t come across like that in your eyes. From your view, he had taken the girl he knew for a couple months, and dumped you with his younger brother. He didn’t want you, didn’t care about you. It hurt. It hurt and it burnt your chest when you thought of it, and the only thing that made you feel a different kind of fire was creating your own destruction.
But this, this was different.
Tommy could see it in your face. This was such a drastic change from the girl who did everything she could to destroy what she got her hands on. This was a girl who finally got to create.
And sure, in a box in the corner of the room, there were the shattered remains of your failed attempts, but it hadn’t felt quite the same.
You thought of it this way; by throwing his and Maria’s dinnerware, you were destroying something that belonged to someone else. It was familiar to you. Trying to create the pain that caved your chest in, within another person. And yes, it was wrong, on so many levels, but you couldn’t help it. You just wanted somebody to understand.
When you had taken that first circular sculpture out of the kiln, and thrown it as hard as you could, it almost… hurt. These things were an extension of you. You had shaped these with your own hands, folded them into what you saw fit, so why should you destroy them? How could you? You made them this way.
So you had hidden the rest of the failed attempts, shoved into a cupboard in the back section of the shop, and had piled up your best attempts for Tommy and Maria to take home.
“You’ve been busy,” Tommy said, his eyebrows raised as he walked his way around the old shop, noticing you had even cleaned the two-decades worth of grime from the windows. “These are good, you been working on anythin’ else?”
“Tried a mug,” You offered, shrugging, “Didn’t really go so well. Neither did the bowl.”
“Work in progress,” Tommy replied, knocking your shoulder with his elbow. “Thanks, kid. You didn’t have to.”
“Actually, Maria’s instructions.” You said, but amusement was taking over your voice as you said the words. It was true — she had told you to replace what you had broken. But you hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much.
Tommy laughed, picking up the pile and placing it in the box you’d prepared, three layers of duct tape going either way across the bottom of it. “Well, it’s appreciated, anyway. You ‘round for dinner tonight?”
You shrugged again, making your way behind the counter to shuffle through some things in the back room absentmindedly, rolling your eyes when Tommy followed. You didn’t mind him or Maria hanging around as much as you used to, but you kept them at a distance.
“Come ‘round.” Tommy said then, instead, no longer posing it as a question. They’d tried to get you to move in, take up the spare room that would eventually go to their unborn child, but you’d strongly disagreed.
“You cooking? Or Maria?” You asked him, eyebrow raised as you turned to look at him, leaning back against the counter.
“Maria,” Tommy answered, rolling his eyes at your snicker of amusement. “She tries not to let me within ten feet of the damn oven.”
You couldn’t blame her. On the days that Tommy had brought food over to that big empty house opposite their own, it had been… an experience. Luckily for the two of you, Maria had agreed to go out on less patrols as the weeks passed by, sharing some of Tommy’s nervousness for what could happen.
“Not surprised.” You commented, a small grin on your face. You looked around the room, picking at your fingernails before you spoke up. “Hey, I was thinkin’—”
“That’s dangerous.”
You ignored him, only responding with yet another eye roll, “Get a bed in here, some drawers… could be a good spot for me.”
“Somethin’ wrong with Rancher Street?” He asked, concerned as he stood up straighter, looking around the room, not quite sure why you’d want to leave the house that provided you with plenty of space, warmth, and running water.
“No— No, there’s nothing wrong with it. Just… pretty big space for just one person, y’know?” You said, and gestured towards the door at the other side of the room, “This place has got a bathroom, anyway, so. And I mean, I always eat at yours or at the hall.”
Tommy frowned, contemplating.
Though they would’ve preferred you to have stayed in their home, Tommy and Maria relented when you had insisted on staying in that house. In the end, they had figured, what’s the harm? After all, once Joel and Ellie returned — which Tommy was sure would come, eventually, — they’d be living in that house, too.
That was the point. The house on Rancher Street was reserved for the three of you. Tommy had hoped, secretly, that you staying there, meant you wanted to fix things up, once the others returned.
You looked to him, when he was quiet for a moment too long, and he cleared his throat. “‘Spose it wouldn’t hurt. Bit of a trek from here, to ours, though.”
“Tommy, when I was…” You trailed, looking away, “I used to walk miles in a day. This short walk won’t hurt me.”
“You got a point,” He acknowledged, tipping his head forward, and ignoring your unfinished sentence. “But man, Maria’s not gonna be happy.” He thought of his wife, waddling her way over when she was near-ready to burst, and shook his head with a grin. “For you, I guess she’ll get on with it.”
“Shut up,” You said, amusement clear in your tone. “Now get outta here. I got some more fixin’ up to do.”
Tommy put his hands up in surrender, before slipping the box of plates into his hands, yelling out a, “See you later!” As he left.
You shook your head, rolling your eyes with a begrudgingly fond expression as you took another look around. There was a table that wouldn’t do you any good, too big, so that’d have to go. You wiped your hands against your tattered trousers, and sighed.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
The lights in Jackson were warm, and filled the streets you walked through as the night slowly took over the day. It was nice, being able to see in front of you as the sky darkened. You tried not to get used to it, but knew you were settling.
It was hard not to — especially after Maria had officially declared that the shop was yours, for whatever you wanted to do with it.
You tried not to think of Boston, usually, but the last time you had had something that was truly yours, was there. It was hard to forget the things you had stashed away, hidden underneath floorboards that were concealed by the only half-decent mattress that Tess and Joel could find.
Thinking of that life was painful, especially when realising that it was unreachable. You hadn’t known it, when you’d left Boston QZ, but you would never get to return to that home that you’d built. To those things you had owned. To the family that had grown its roots in that crappy old apartment.
It was something strange, really. To think that all you had, perhaps all you ever would have, belonged to this town. You were reliant on its walls keeping you safe. At least that much was similar to life in Boston.
People were happier here, though.
You probably couldn’t include yourself in that statement, but for the most part, it was true. The streets remained lit through the dark nights, and you could go out for a walk at any time of the day, with no consequences. Which was a bit of luck, considering that Tommy and Maria always ate late on in the day.
Turning on to their street, you frowned, because the lights in the house opposite Tommy and Maria’s — the one you had yet to move out of — were turned on. And you always turned them off before you left.
You hurried into Tommy and Maria’s, shutting the door tightly behind you and kicking your shoes off in the doorway. “Guys?” You called out, hanging your coat beside the doorway and making your way toward where you heard their responding shouts in the kitchen. “What’s going on?” You asked, upon entering the room.
The glance they shared did not go unnoticed by you.
You raised your eyebrows as they looked to you, seeming almost… nervous. “Did you already tell her?” You asked Tommy, and saw the way Maria’s face immediately flashed with confusion.
“Tell me what?” She asked, turning to Tommy whilst being conscious to continue stirring whatever it was that she was cooking.
“I didn’t—”
“Then who’s in the house?” You interrupted, feeling like your stomach was sinking. You’d thought it would be strange for them to immediately place new people in the house, given that you hadn’t quite packed up the few things you had left there, and the shop wasn’t quite ready. But what other explanation was there?
“Okay, let’s just press pause for a second.” Maria said, shaking her head and looking to her husband. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Well,” He began, scratching the back of his neck, and gesturing towards you, “The shop’s lookin’ real good. And she was hoping she could, y’know, get a bed in there, and stay there.”
“So you haven’t moved new people into the house?” You asked her, feeling your stomach swoop down further as you spoke, and your mouth was going dry. “Then, does that mean—”
Tommy held a placating hand toward you, and it just told you all you needed to know.
“When?” You asked, feeling like your fingertips were burning and your chest was going to explode with how tightly it had constricted. They hesitated, so you repeated, more forcefully, “When?”
“No more than a couple hours ago.” Maria said, putting her spoon down on the counter and stepping forward, frowning when you turned away from her. “The guys on the gate spotted ‘em. Pretty banged up, but they’ll be okay. Sent them in to get some rest.”
“And you didn’t come and tell me?” You demanded, though your voice was weak and you had to hold your hand against your chest to try and steady your breathing.
“Kid, we—”
“Don’t call me that!” You snapped, immediately. Tommy sighed through his nose, nodding his head in something close to defeat. “I don’t want to see either of them. I’m not going in there.”
“You don’t have to do anything right now,” Maria said, frowning at your expression. “You can stay here, tonight, and we can sort the shop out for you tomorrow, but…”
Tommy placed a hand against Maria’s shoulder as she trailed off, “We were thinkin’, maybe you guys could talk it out. It’s been a couple months, now.”
“What’s there to talk about?” You questioned, voice sharp and paining your throat as you spoke. “They left me behind. Think that says everything, doesn’t it?”
It was all over their faces, the fact that they wanted to say more, wanted to say something in some kind of defence of the other Miller man, but they knew you. The married couple were more than aware that anything they said would mean nothing to you. You were like Joel, in that way, Tommy had said before. Stubborn.
They nodded, almost in sync, and Maria turned back to the stove, to continue cooking as she had been before.
“Would you get my stuff for me? When you get the chance?” You asked Tommy, who nodded his head, a frown prominent on his face.
“I’ll go first thing.” He replied, secretly hoping that come morning, you’d magically want to make amends with his brother. He knew it wasn’t likely.
“Thank you.” You said, feeling like heat was crawling up your neck the longer you stood there. The fire in your stomach was fading away, just leaving you feeling uncomfortably warm as you stood in the room. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” You nodded to the back door, and headed out once they acknowledged your words.
You stepped out, feeling the muggy air cool your lungs. It was colder than you’d expected, especially considering the way heat seemed to cling to everything in these parts, and you had to grind your teeth to stop the shiver that went down your spine.
It was only when Maria called to tell you dinner was ready that you stepped back inside, rubbing your hands against your arms to try and rid your skin of goosebumps.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Tommy had moved you into the shop the very next day, constructing a makeshift bed frame from whatever wood the town could spare, and bringing a mattress from an out-of-use house. You could tell he had wanted to say something, but he held himself back.
Now, it had been almost two weeks since they had returned to Jackson. And you’d been doing a fantastic job of avoiding any sight of them.
It hadn’t been difficult, in the beginning, with them taking time to rest and recover from their journey — or so Maria had told you. But it got harder as the days went on. They were beginning to explore the town, to join in on jobs, to eat where you would usually eat. It was getting annoying.
For the past few months, you’d found it so hard to live without them, but now, you realised it was much harder to live with them around. Hell, you’d even had to avoid Tommy and Maria’s on occasion, because you’d catch yourself starving before being in a room with the two of them, willingly.
Tommy had mentioned that they’d asked about you, that they’d been wondering where you were, but you didn’t need to say much for him to realise that you didn’t want them privy to any information about you. After all, they’d lost that right when they’d abandoned you here, in a town full of strangers, with no concern of what it might do to you.
You were getting angry, the longer it went on, the suspense of when you’d finally catch glimpse of them was eating you up inside. It was like life before Jackson, that feeling of being constantly on edge, of checking behind your shoulder consistently as time passed by.
It was safe to say that you weren’t happy.
You’d tried to keep yourself busy in the shop, in the little safe space in Jackson that was tucked away, belonging only to you, but things seemed tense outside of Jackson, and with Tommy taking on more patrols, Maria had been left alone an awful lot.
Tommy had asked you not to tell her, and you had absolutely no plans to, but he had asked you to hang around with her a bit more.
Partly for her own good, and mostly for his peace of mind. A little part, which he refused to tell you, was that it was also for your own good. Taking your mind off of Joel and Ellie was the best he could do for you, and this was the only way he knew how.
So, you had spent more time than you could’ve imagined at their house. Ending up falling asleep on their couch more times than you could count, with Maria insisting on waiting for Tommy to get home from his late-night patrols. He often came home to the two of you soundly asleep against the couch cushions, and you often woke up in a different position to what you fell asleep in, a blanket covering you and keeping away the slight chill.
It was one of those mornings, and you were in desperate need for a shower and some fresh clothes. You wrote a note for the two of them, knowing it was far too early for them to be up, given the way the sun was only just rising, to let them know you were going back to the shop.
Your feet were dragging with every step you took, and shuffling your jacket around your shoulders took more effort than you had expected. It was definitely going to be a long day, especially since you had promised Maria that you’d help her cook dinner later, considering she was still very against letting Tommy near the stove.
The morning air woke you up the slightest bit, but the chill of the breeze had you rubbing your hands together, regretting not bringing gloves, though you knew that later on it’d be far too warm for them.
You heard your name, and froze where you stood, hands clutched together, one foot in front of the other.
It was like your heart stopped the second you heard it, like it was being squeezed so tightly it couldn’t beat. The sensation made your chest ache, and you grit your teeth to move past the pain that had become all too familiar.
You heard him stop, his footsteps pausing as he hesitated behind you. You stood still for a moment more, before stepping away as he made a move to continue. He said your name again, trying to call you to a stop once more, but you hurried your pace, checking behind you after you had turned the corner, lucky enough to find nothing there.
A sigh escaped you, relaxing your tense shoulders just a fraction as you made a quick journey back to the shop.
You tried not to notice the anxiety balled in your chest when you finally made it. The way it was twisting up, pulling tighter on your lungs and leaving you feeling breathless as you thought too long on the slightest of interactions.
Despite not seeing his face, hearing Joel’s voice made their presence all too real, and you felt… overwhelmed. Nervous. Scared, maybe.
It was too much.
Why did they have to come back? Especially when you knew they hadn’t come back for you, but for the comforts of Jackson.
This was the only place that resembled the world before, the only place where you could feel something close to safe, and you could be comfortable. This town was a place for family, and it was clear that you didn’t have that, anymore.
Joel and Ellie had returned, but they weren’t your family. They had left you behind, to find your own way, whilst they went on an adventure of their own, creating a network of roots to settle in something close to a family of their own. You wondered if Ellie reminded Joel of his daughter, but tried to put the thought to rest as quickly as it arose.
You stepped into the shower, and tried to let the water wash away all thoughts of Joel and Ellie and family.
Later, when you stood at Maria’s side, stirring a pot on the stove as she took a moment to rest, complaining of the way her child was making her back ache. She told you about how it made her feel incredibly old, but you could see the fact that she appreciated it, as something of a reminder of the fact she was still here.
You had hummed along with her tangent, paying attention to her words but not feeling up to speaking all too much. Of course, Maria had noticed. She certainly prided herself on her observation skills.
“What’s up?” She asked softly, a strange contrast the the harsh voice she had just been speaking with as she had criticised her body for the pain it felt. Her hand was placed against the bump that has grown significantly, and you knew she was feeling maternal once again.
“It’s nothing.” You told her, because it was, wasn’t it? Joel and Ellie didn’t care about you, so why would you care about them?
“Mhm,” She hummed, raising her brows at you, “Sure it is. Got nothing to do with the two living across the street?”
You shook your head, continuing to stir the food, and tried your best to let out the sigh in your chest as a normal breath. It didn’t work, and Maria rolled her eyes at your denial of something that was so obvious. You didn’t say anything else on the matter, and couldn’t help but feel relieved when she finally let it rest. The two of you finished cooking, with you doing most of the work, and her giving all of the instructions.
But hey, you were much better than Tommy was, despite your inexperience.
It was when the door was knocked whilst you and Maria sat in their living room that you felt that tightening of your chest once again. She glanced to you, taking in the way your limbs had immediately tensed, all of your muscles straining like you weren’t sure whether to bolt, or stay completely still.
She raised a hand, telling you to wait where you were, and made her way to the front door after much groaning in her attempts to get up from the sofa cushions. You refrained from telling her that you were surprised she could manage it on her own, considering the size of her baby bump.
“Hey, Maria.” A familiar voice spoke, and your hands clenched into fists against your thighs, “Tommy in?” Joel asked, remaining outside the house.
“No, uh— he’s on a late patrol, today.” Maria responded, her voice much lighter when she spoke to Joel than it had been when the three of you had first arrived to Jackson.
“Ah,” Joel sighed, and you could hear him taking a step back on the porch, disappointment lacing his tone. It was too familiar. “Mind if I pop by, later on?” He asked, far more hopeful than you had ever heard him.
“Uh…” Maria trailed, and you knew she was looking back in the hallway, unsure if you’d be staying overnight. The wooden floorboards of the porch creaked as Joel stepped forward again, and you heard Maria shushing him as you clenched your teeth together. “Not now, Joel. It’s not a good time. I’ll tell Tommy to stop by yours.”
He sighed, and it was like you were back in Boston, with how heavy he sounded.
It was the same way he would sigh when you got too excited over something, like he was disappointed. Back then, you had thought it had been because he couldn’t guarantee anything for you. Now, you had no idea. You had always believed you had known him and Tess almost too well, but over the past few months, you realised just how wrong you were. Back in Boston, if someone had told them what would happen when you arrived in Jackson, you would’ve laughed in their face. Would’ve been so certain that Joel would never leave your side. You had no idea how wrong you were.
You swallowed, your throat feeling tight, and your tongue feeling like it was too big for your mouth as you heard the door shut, and Maria rounded the corner with a tight smile on her face.
With your heart pounding, you looked at her where she stood, and stopped her just before she could sit down, blurting: “Can you cut my hair?”
Her surprise was evident, but Maria nodded her head, and you tried to breathe through the pain in your lungs as you followed her to the kitchen.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
It was week four, and Joel was getting antsy.
Every time he sat down, he found his fingers tapping an unknown rhythm against his trousers, his legs bouncing up and down as he nervously scanned the room, as though you’d appear from around the corner at any second. Of course, it never happened.
Each time he arrived back to the house on Rancher Street, Ellie’s head perked up, the most hopeful he’d seen her since before winter, and he had to shake his head. Had to watch her expression fall.
When he had seen you leaving Tommy and Maria’s, far too early in the morning for anyone to be awake, something had risen in his chest. He knew it was stupid, that he was a fool for thinking you might speak to him after what he did, but he had hoped so badly that you might just understand.
It was the closest he had been to you in weeks, and he hadn’t even managed to see your face up close, had only just about seen a glimpse of it when you had dragged yourself from Tommy’s porch. The moment he had gotten close enough to reach for you, you had bolted, leaving his hand halfway raised into the air as he stared after you, wondering if he should follow you, or let you go.
When he’d arrived at Tommy and Maria’s one evening, hoping to talk to Tommy about his anxieties, he’d found something else. They were shielding you.
And yes, he had asked them to protect you, had trusted them with something he had never even fully trusted himself with, but god. Joel had never expected that they would protect you from him.
But now, here he was, standing in front of an old shop that had likely seen better days, two decades ago. Ellie was by his side, her hand gripping the sleeve of his coat tightly, before she released it to knock loudly against the shop door.
He had half-expected for you to not answer.
Seeing your face, properly, for the first time in months was not the moment Joel had hoped for it to be. Not when your expression had immediately fallen from something of confusion to anger, to something defensive.
“Hi.” Joel breathed, feeling like he should really kick himself for the pathetic attempt at a greeting. Ellie was close to trembling at his side, trying to stay indifferent, but even from the corner of his eye he could see that hope rising in her expression.
“What do you want?” You snapped at them, wanting nothing more than to close the door in their faces, to slam it shut and lock it, to never open it again. But you refrained, something in your chest balling tighter, but you couldn’t help the desire that arose for something. An explanation, maybe. A good enough reason for you to forgive them, perhaps.
Joel jumped in before Ellie could, saying, “Plates!” He saw Ellie’s head whip towards him, a dumbfounded expression painted across her face. He watched you blink in surprise, and saw your expression go towards indifference as you huffed, and moved away from the door, allowing him to push it open a bit more, pulling Ellie in with him. She closed it behind her.
The silence lingers as you busy yourself with fortifying a box, feeling bitterness creeping up your throat. You thought about why they needed plates, and could not grind your teeth together, somewhat hoping that the scratches and dents in the kitchen counters couldn’t be fixed.
“Listen,” Your head snapped up to him, knowing what came next, and saw the way he backed down, the word kid dying on his lips. He cleared his throat as you went back to taping the cardboard box. “We were hopin’… that, uh, we could all have a talk. Clear things up.”
“I don’t know, Joel,” You began, the bitterness falling off of your tongue with every word, “You guys leaving seemed clear enough to me.”
He hated how much older you sounded.
“We left because we had to, not because we wanted to.” Joel defended, immediately, feeling the hope that had been flickering in his chest for the past four weeks sputter out.
“I remember trying to come with you,” You said offhandedly, keeping your eyes on the cardboard box as you put the final third piece of duct tape across the bottom. “You said: ‘me and Ellie. Not you.’ Remember?”
Ellie’s expression fell further, somehow, and Joel gaped for a moment, flashing back to the way your own face had fallen at his words.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” He said your name, almost like a plead, and frowned when you just turned to go towards the back side of the room, beside a closed door. You ignored it, collecting some of the better looking plates that had been stacked up there. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know you never asked for any of this.”
“You’re right, I didn’t. I wanted to stay with you. That’s what I wanted. No matter what might’ve happened, I just wanted to be with you two. You took that from me.” You said, voice harsher than Joel had ever heard it, even from when he and Tess had first taken you in. Remembering that version of you was painful, because he saw no resemblance within the you that stood before him.
Ellie spoke up then, her eyebrows furrowed inwards as she became something far too close to angry as she said your name, “You have no idea what we’ve been through—”
“You’re right.” You cut her off, placing the stack of plates in the cardboard box with a loud thud, “I don’t. And who’s fault is that?”
You looked between the two of them, as if you were expecting the answer, but Joel couldn’t bring himself to say it. You were so grown up, and he couldn’t understand it. It had only been a few months.
At their silence, you scoffed, and shoved the box towards them, watching as Joel instinctively shot his hand out to prevent it from falling off of the edge of the counter. He took the box, feeling like it was far too heavy for what it was, but perhaps that was just the conversation.
“I want you guys to go now.” You said, firm, despite the way your voice tried to shake. You wouldn’t let your voice tremor, not in front of them. Not when they didn’t deserve your devastation.
Joel’s face fell, a common theme in each of your recent interactions, and couldn’t help the way he felt sick to his stomach. All those months ago, you had been asking to leave with them, and now here you were, looking at him with eyes that he didn’t recognise, telling him to leave.
“Come on, Ellie.” He said reluctantly, turning away from where you stood, chin held high.
“No!” Ellie replied loudly, her lip trembling as she looked between you and Joel, like she was expecting something to magically repair the rift between you. Unfortunately, this world was real, and it was ugly, and you weren’t sure that fixing things was even possible. “We— We can’t just give up.” She said, pleadingly, looking to Joel to fix things, like she was so used to him doing.
But Joel knew that this was something he couldn’t fix so easily. “We’re not giving up.” He responded then, training his gaze on you, where your eyebrows had furrowed and you had turned your face away from them.
“You should.” You told him, your own trembling lip matching Ellie’s, before you turned away fully, making the short few steps and entering the back room, shutting the door tightly behind you.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
“You asshole!” You yelled, the moment you saw Tommy stood in the kitchen doorway of his home, with him having turned to face you at the sound of his front door slamming open. He looked confused, but you didn’t fall for that expression, even as he said your name in an even more confused tone.
You stormed over to him, pushing your hands against his chest and feeling him take a bracing step back, not stopping you. He held his hands up by his side, surrendering once again, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from stinging with tears.
“How could you fucking do that to me?” You asked almost desperately, pushing your palm against his shoulder again, and then you felt Maria step around him, place a hand toward you that you flinched back from.
“Do what?” Tommy questioned, dumbfounded, and holding a hand up toward Maria, who backed off at your blatant dismissal of comfort.
“Tell them about my shop!”
Tommy’s face became one of realisation, and Maria whacked a hand against his chest. He immediately looked guilty a moment after the realisation, and held his hands out towards you.
“I let it slip, I know, but I didn’t realise he’d noticed. I swear, I wouldn’t tell him that purposely. He came ‘round?” Tommy spoke, frowning when you took a step away from his hands as they reached for you. He couldn’t help but feel like Joel had unravelled all the trust he had built with you, and his frustration grew at the second realisation of the evening. You could only nod in response, your expression a mixture of anger and devastation. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean for that. Joel wants to fix things up, yeah, but—”
“Fix things? Tommy, how could he fix things?” You asked, your volume raising immediately as you cut him off. “Joel— He knew everything about me, and he chose to leave. He left me willingly! That isn’t… every time I see myself, I see those parts that he rejected. How do you fix that? Tell me how you fix that, and I’ll fucking do it, Tommy, but I can’t figure it out. How can you fix that? How can you forgive that?”
You were yelling, you knew you were, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything you had built in Jackson was shattering like those stupid plates in that stupid kitchen. Tears were falling down your face, and Tommy blurred away as your eyes continued to fill with them. It felt never ending, this whole situation did. How did you fix this? Could you?
“I don’t know.” Tommy admitted, feeling like his heart could tear from his chest as he looked at you, your breaths shaking as you tried to get through sobs, your face covered in tears, chest heaving. “But we’re going to figure this out. We’ve got you.”
He moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders when he realised you’d let him. He felt your arms tremble as they wrapped around him, and he stared past your head as he took notice of Joel frowning in the still-open doorway. They shared a look, and Tommy gave Joel an all too familiar expression, one that he used to give when Sarah would be upset. Too upset for anybody else but Joel to be present.
It felt strange, to Joel, not only to be on the receiving end of the look, but because it was concerning you. But what was he meant to do? How could he fix it?
Joel frowned, nodding at his younger brother, and closed their front door as he turned away, breathing out a sigh that felt far too heavy. He needed to figure this out.
“Come on,” Tommy said, after a few moments, when he was certain you hadn’t noticed Joel closing the door. He led you over to the sofa where Maria was waiting, and when you collapsed next to her, they held you between them until you fell asleep, face still wet from tears. “It’ll be okay.” He spoke, quietly, despite knowing you were asleep. He was half saying it to himself and Maria, too. They needed the reassurance just as much as you did.
Tommy decided then, that when you woke up in the morning, he would do his best to help you figure everything out. And as he shared a look with Maria, he knew that she’d be there, helping right at his side.
PART THREE
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller angst#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller father figure#tommy miller x reader#tommy miller x you#tommy miller angst#tommy miller father figure#tlou imagines#tlou one shot#tlou imagine#tlou angst#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal one shot#heartpascal writes
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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k
Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart.
Or
This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘
P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂
Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics
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...need your reassurance...
...your only focus…
...for the foreseeable future...
He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.
For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.
You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.
Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.
“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.
Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.
“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.
“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.
“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.
“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.
“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.
“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.
Therapy was hard.
Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.
But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.
He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.
“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.
“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.
“And what were those?”
“She didn’t want to see me.”
“Did she say that?”
“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.
“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”
“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.
The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.
Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.
“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”
“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.
“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”
“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.
“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.
Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”
“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”
Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.
“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”
“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.
“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”
“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”
“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”
“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”
“And how did you respond to that?”
“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”
“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”
“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.
“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”
"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.
“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”
Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.
“Joel?”
“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.
He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.
“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”
This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.
“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.
You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.
“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”
“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.
“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.
“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”
Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.
But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.
No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.
No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.
No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.
When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?
A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?
Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.
People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.
Joel, will you please sign the papers?
He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.
No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.
The papers are not ready.
Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.
Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.
An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?
You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.
The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?
So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?
Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?
Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.
Can you turn back time?
Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.
?
You know I can’t..
Sign the papers. Please.
“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”
“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.
“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.
“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”
His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.
“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”
The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.
“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.
“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”
“She asked me to leave the house.”
“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.
“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”
“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”
“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”
“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”
“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”
“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.
Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”
Fuck.
How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?
His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.
“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”
Fuck.
“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”
“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.
“You could have called.”
“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.
Touché.
“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.
“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.
Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.
“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.
“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”
Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.
“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.
Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”
“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.
“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”
“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.
“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.
“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”
“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.
“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”
“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.
“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”
The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”
“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”
“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”
“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”
“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.
“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”
Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.
“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.
Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”
“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.
“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.
“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.
“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.
Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.
“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.
“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.
“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.
Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.
But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.
Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”
“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.
“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.
Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?
“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.
“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”
You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?
But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.
You were right.
It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.
He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.
There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.
Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.
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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal fandom#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#fanfic#joel miller#joel miller angst#infidelity joel miller#joel miller au#joel miller tlou#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us hbo#hbo the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x original character#joel miller x oc#joel smut#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel x you#joel x oc#angst fic
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IV ║ Notch
Joel Miller x F!Reader
{ Part III: Edgestitch | Behind the Seams: Part IV | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: E, but not that explicit
Summary: While Ellie works her first shift at the Outfitters, Joel drops by yours to return the blouse you left behind at the baby shower. Turns out, there's plenty around the house to keep him occupied until the teenager clocks off.
Warnings: Sexual tension, body insecurity, some language, inaccurate descriptions of gardening, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, undervest supremacy, flirting, dry humping, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N
Word count: 8.9k
Notes: Once I started writing this chapter in earnest, it came together a bit more quickly than I expected! It's extremely self-indulgent, with plenty of white undervest and belly action because you guys deserve all of that goodness for being the most patient, loving readers a writer could hope for 🥹 Thank you, I love you all! ❤️
Notch – diamond shaped marks that stick out beyond the edge of the pattern to line up all the pieces when sewing the garment. They come in pairs to be matched up.
Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.
After the outbreak, sleep as a concept ceased to exist. What took its place is literal ‘shuteye’, either engineered by pills knocked back with moonshine, or a preventative shutdown by his body to avoid total failure, having pushed his physical form to the living limit.
It’s the kind of sleep that is destitute and provides no relief. It keeps the cogs turning just enough that he doesn’t expire, standing in his boots - which, on most days, are not the only things held together by duct tape.
But after the hospital, even that turned out to be too much to ask for. Some nights, the itch for chemical-induced relief got so bad that Joel entertained the thought of asking Tommy for illicit pills, ready to crawl on all fours to his brother’s house two streets down because he was shaking so hard he couldn’t lock his knees. But he didn’t trust him not to tell Maria, and with Ellie in the picture, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.
So instead, he asked Maria to assign him to night patrols. She hmmm’d at his request like she knew something he didn’t, but she humoured him, letting him take the graveyard shift for a couple of weeks straight. She didn’t have to tell him that she could see the way he tripped over his own feet and hear the slur in his voice. She’s too sharp not to notice.
But she didn’t say anything.
What she did do though, was not so subtly wean him off the late-night patrols. It started with a couple of random, last-minute changes, and then the next thing he knew, he was working morning shifts exclusively. When he tried covertly swapping stints with another guy, he showed up at the guard tower at midnight to find his sister-in-law standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her pregnant belly.
As he trudged home begrudgingly with his head down and her stern reprimand in his ears, he couldn’t help a chuckle. Gotta hand it to her.
Banished back to his bed, Joel went back to staring owlishly at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slide across the plaster until he knew all the cracks in it with his eyes closed (metaphorically). He’d listen to Ellie snoring away two doors down and marvel at the fact that she somehow still slept like the dead, even after… all that.
And then, one night, it happened for him too.
Admittedly, he ate a bit too much at Tommy and Maria’s - on top of running the town like a well-oiled machine, she makes a mean chicken fried steak - and Ellie had not so subtly plonked a second helping on his plate without asking. He was lying in bed, steeling himself for another long night, when his eyes drooped. The motion was so alien that it jolted him wide awake, but he couldn’t shake the weight that clung to the seams of his lashes. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.
Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.
It’s nowhere near consistent, and more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat in the small hours, but in between, he’s sleeping. For once, he’s feeling rested. And it’s a nice fucking break from the relentless exhaustion that he’s convinced is fused into his bones.
He always wakes up earlier than Ellie though. She never stomps down the stairs until he’s already had breakfast, and hers has gone cold.
So on the Saturday morning following the baby shower, with his face plastered into the mattress, body curled around a pillow - old habits die hard - Joel nearly falls out of bed at the banging on his door.
‘Joel! Get the fuck up!’
For one disconcerting moment between sleep and wake, he’s in his bedroom back in Texas. He half expects to look up to see the posters on the wall and the perpetually overflowing laundry basket at the foot of his bed.
Blinking through the urge to close his eyes, the colours fade and he stares blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table.
7:30.
What the fuck? More often than not he has to drag the teenager out of bed by the ankles, kicking and swearing, at 7:50 to get to school at 8:00.
His knees groan as he staggers onto his feet, grabbing yesterday’s jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He finds a passably clean shirt about five deep on a chair, which he shrugs on over his white undervest. With a grunt, he yanks open the door and heads downstairs on bare feet, frowning at unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen.
Joel pauses in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘What do you think you’re doin’?’
Deeming his question unworthy of a response, Ellie tosses him a roll of her eyes over her shoulder and resolutely ignores him.
Shuffling closer, he asks, ‘Are you - cookin’?’
Brandishing the spatula at him, she snarls, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’
He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’
Ellie elbows him hard in the stomach. ‘Fuck you, man!’
He grins. There’s nothing like winding her up first thing in the morning. Grabbing the pan, he bins the ruined eggs, scraping off the burnt bits stuck to the bottom. ‘Crack some more eggs, I’ll make ‘em.’
Ten minutes later, in their usual seats at the kitchen table, they tuck into scrambled eggs and buttered toast.
‘Slow down,’ warns Joel as Ellie wolfs down hers. ‘You’re gonna choke.’
‘You hurry up! Can’t be late for my first day,’ she garbles through a mouthful of food.
‘Why can’t you be like this about school?’ he grumbles, then he winces as his teeth catch something crunchy. Picking it out, he gives her a pointed look. ‘Eggshell.’
‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.
That one word stops Joel in his tracks and hurls him twenty years back in time.
But then Ellie is jumping up and practically throwing her empty plate into the sink, sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as she dashes out of the kitchen. ‘C’mon, old man!’
Joel smiles, the memory warm like sun on his face.
He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.
They turn out to be fifteen minutes early.
To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat.
Joel sits on the stairs, while Ellie has her face squished up against the door, unabashedly leaving smudges on the glass panels as she keeps up an uninterrupted running commentary on every last piece of clothing she can see.
He tunes her out easily, shifting in his seat so that his right ear is to the door. In his hands is the blouse that you left behind at Tommy and Maria’s at the baby shower. He’s been meaning to return it to you, but the week got away from him, and there’s no time like the present.
Considering the state of his knees, he impresses himself with the speed at which he stands at the sound of footsteps on the otherwise quiet main street. Squaring his shoulders, he discreetly pulls on his shirt, suddenly seeing wrinkles everywhere in the fabric, and runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he’d taken another look in the mirror before he left the house -
But it’s Lucy who appears at the bottom of the stairs with her unfailingly sunny smile.
‘Hi, you must be Ellie,’ she chirps.
She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’
Joel growls. ‘Manners.’
Ellie puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. I meant - nice to meet you, where’s Pin?’
Lucy beams good-naturedly and fiddles with the lock. ‘She’s off today, and it’s all my fault because I made her work three weekends in a row. You’ll be helping me in the front anyway, so I’ll show you the ropes.’ Stepping aside and swinging the door open, she prompts, ‘In you go now, hon.’
Ellie doesn’t even look back at him, rushing into the shop like a thoroughbred fresh out of the starting gates.
Pocketing the keys, Lucy smiles. ‘Hi Joel.’
‘Hey,’ he nods back. ‘Sorry about Ellie.’
‘Don’t be, I was exactly like her when I was younger. Still am sometimes,’ she jokes. Then with a sly side eye, she remarks, ‘And honestly, you look more disappointed that I showed up than she does.’
He splutters, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’
She smirks knowingly, gesturing at the blouse clutched tightly in his left fist. ‘I can pass that to Pin for ya.’
Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’
He shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, guess I’ll give it to her next time she’s ‘round.’
Just then, from the depths of the shop, Ellie gasps dramatically and yells at the top of her lungs, ‘I want thissssssss one!’
Meeting Lucy’s eyes, Joel asks, ‘Sure you gonna be ok left alone with her?’
She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
He flashes her a thumbs up. ‘I’ll pick her up at three then.’
He’s about to walk away from the Outfitters when Lucy’s voice stops him. ‘Hey, Joel!’
Looking up at the wraparound porch, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.
‘She lives in the yellow cottage on the same street as the shoe shop. Keep going north, you can’t miss it,’ she says with a two-finger salute and a parting line that he’s heard before. ‘Say hi to Pin for me!’
You’ve always had a soft spot for the turn of the season, when late spring blooms graciously give way to summer buds. The grass smells greener, and the air is pregnant with pollen and nectar. It’s not overly warm yet, but you can feel the intensity in the sunlight, muted only by the early hour. Good thing you’re starting early.
It’s unseasonably warm for June, and the vegetable patch on the far end of your garden has suddenly burst into life. The cauliflower has finally come through after two failed crops in a row, and both the tomato vines and pepper plants are thriving. Closer to the ground, the onion and garlic shoots are patiently waiting to be pulled, and asparagus shoots spear through the earth in tidy lines one after another.
Pulling on a hat and gloves, you get to work.
You’re halfway through the second row of onions when there’s a faint knock on the front door. Even though you’ve only been in the sun for a little while, the coolness inside the house feels like a balm to your skin as you pad inside, peeling off your gloves before reaching for the door.
Swinging it open, you’re stumped by the sight of Joel Miller on your doorstep.
You haven’t seen him since the party, where you’d agreed on a start date and time for Ellie’s first shift, and -
Since the kiss.
You’ve felt his absence keenly. You’ve caught yourself loitering on street corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, knowing you’ll be able to spot him just by the way his shoulders swing with his long strides. You’ve kept an ear out for the southern lilt that has chased goosebumps across your skin, or any mention of his name, but all in vain.
Jackson has a habit of growing in size, usually in direct proportion to one’s desperation.
Now that he’s somehow here, you’re aware you’re gaping at him, so broad that his shoulders are blocking out the daylight. Too many years out of practice to count, you have no idea what the protocol is when you next see the man who literally made your knees buckle with just his lips and nothing else.
‘Mornin’, he finally says with a small smile.
You stammer. ‘H-hello. What, um, I mean, how -’
‘I dropped off Ellie at the shop and Lucy told me where you live,’ he explains, shaking out the blouse in his hands. ‘Thought I’d come ‘round and return this.’
Your palm twitches with the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. Of course that’s why he’s here.
Taking the top from him, you smile back gratefully. ‘Thank you. And of course, it’s Ellie’s first day. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I’ve been subbing for Lucy on the weekends for a month straight and I needed a break.’
He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’
‘Bless her heart,’ you chuckle, breaking off when his eyes flicker over you, as if he’s just registered your very minimalist ensemble of a white cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, flattery winning out against self-consciousness at the deliberate drag of his gaze over you, a thoughtful weight behind it.
That is until something catches his attention, and you flinch when he peers under the brim of your hat. ‘What -’
Before you can even articulate your question, he’s taken one step towards you, his work boots heavy on your creaky wooden porch. His voice is low but rough around the edges, just the way you like it.
‘You got some dirt -’ he swipes his index finger firmly on the end of your nose. ‘Right here.’
Your jaw hangs open, then clamps shut, in quick succession, the shell of your ears burning hot at his fleeting touch. Throat suddenly dry, you barely manage to squeak, ‘Thanks.’
One day, you will at least try and keep your cool around this man. But alas, it is not this day.
Rearranging himself, Joel leans on the doorframe with his arms crossed and remarks conversationally, ‘You look outdoorsy this mornin’.’
Flashing the soil-stained gloves at him, you try to keep your voice steady. ‘I’m just doing some gardening out back. The vegetable patch needs harvesting.’
He purses his lips at that. ‘Didn’t peg you as the gardenin’ type.’
You don’t know where the bravado comes from, but you swat him on the arm with the gloves and quip, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’
‘You got me there,’ he huffs a laugh and gestures towards the back of the house. ‘Anythin’ I can do to help?’
The refusal is on the tip of your tongue. You don’t say yes to a whole lot nowadays, other than when Lucy makes you. But then you hear yourself ask, a challenge in your voice that you didn’t know you had. ‘I don’t know. Are you any good with your hands, Joel Miller?’
At the boldness in your words, which you don’t take back, Joel’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. Biting your lip but standing your ground, you watch him grind his jaw as he considers his response.
‘Why don’t you try me, sweetheart?’
‘Like this?’
‘Wait - slow down.’
A shuffle of hands. ‘How about now?’
‘That’s it. Yes, that’s good. Keep going.’
A raspy grunt. ‘I think I’m almost there.’
‘Yeah, that’s right, don’t stop -’
‘Alright, you ready?’
‘Come on, Joel -’
With one last flick, the knife slices clean through the base of the stalk, and Joel plucks the cauliflower head out of its leafy cradle with a triumphant grin.
‘How’s that for good hands, huh?’ he crows.
‘I’ll get back to you in the fall when we see if the cauliflower grows back,’ you tease.
He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’
You preen at the playful turn of the conversation. If you were a little braver, you’d give him a mischievous wink - but for now, you gesture at the patch. ‘Can you handle the rest? I’ll get started on the peppers.’
He nods. ‘Leave ‘em with me.’
The pepper plants are having a great season, standing at four feet tall and heaving with fruits. You’ve left them alone on the vine for the last three weeks to sweeten, and they have dutifully ripened into a beautiful red. Settling onto your knees, you methodologically comb through the peppers from top to bottom, cutting off each one by the stalks.
It’s a big harvest, half of which you plan on giving away to your neighbours in exchange for their berries and lemons. Some you will cook. Lucy is due to come over for dinner, and she loves your stuffed pepper recipe. The rest you’ll have to find time to roast, skin, deseed and preserve in oil, which will last the rest of the year -
A shadow falls over you, stilling your hands and drawing your eyes upwards.
The sight is familiar - feet planted shoulder-wide by your knees, chin tucked in as he stares down at you, your nose level with the front of the jeans that you picked out for him - you’ve seen it all before, except for one small detail.
Joel is sweating. A lot.
His thin plaid shirt - you’re not sure if you’ve seen him in anything else yet - is sticking to him like a second skin, clinging to the solid outline of his biceps as he holds onto the basket full of cauliflower heads. The sunlight glances off the perspiration dotting his hairline, and the wispy grays that normally curl away from his face have wilted in the humidity.
There’s a flush under his skin as he swipes at his forehead with his shirt sleeve, and your gaze follows a bead of sweat dripping down the prominent vein on the side of his neck, and into the deep V of his shirt - wait, is that the outline of an undervest that you can just make out underneath -
‘Should I take the cauliflower in?’
‘Um -’ you stammer to a halt, eyes still plastered to the front of his chest, just like his shirt.
He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’
Oh, come on. Now all you’re thinking about is how else he works up a sweat -
Seized by the sudden need to get out of the heat in more than one sense of the word, you rip the basket from his grasp and turn on your heels to sprint into the house with a choked, ‘I’ll be right back!’
You nearly trip over your own feet running into the kitchen, your heart thumping so loudly in its ribcage it feels like the whole house is shaking to the beat.
And all that man has done is sweat in front of you.
‘Pull yourself together, Pin,’ you mutter to yourself as you tip the cauliflower heads onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a jug from the cupboard, you put it in the sink and turn on the faucet. Watching the trickle of water, you make yourself take three deep breaths.
Joel’s kind enough to do you a favour, you could at least have the courtesy to not perv on him while he helps you out.
Nodding determinedly to yourself, you pluck two glasses from the drying rack, putting them inside the empty basket that you hook on your elbow, and march back outside -
Only to almost swallow your tongue and drop the full jug of water right at your feet.
Joel’s sweat-soaked shirt is now hanging on your washing line like a white flag, having surrendered to the heat. And just like that, the very image that has been inconveniently seared into the back of your eyes since the party is suddenly before you in all its glory, in the morning sun, out in the open air.
The white undervest stretches over the breadth of him, and if he didn’t look so good in it, you would’ve laughed at the comical way the flimsy straps are clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. Then he bends over to inspect the tomato vines, the bottom of his vest riding up with the movement, teasing a flash of skin above the waistline of the jeans pulled tight over his behind. One big hand reaches out, the outline of his arm flexing as he does, and he palms the bottom of one tomato, testing if it’s ripe for the picking.
Except in your head, it’s something else he’s cupping with such rapturous attention.
He doesn’t notice you until he stands up with a low grunt of effort. Pointing an apologetic finger at his shirt, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’m sweatin’ right through it like nobody’s business.’
You make a noise in your throat that you pass off as an answer, and with shaky hands, pour him a full glass of water which you shove in his direction.
‘Appreciate it, sweetheart.’ He salutes you and takes a long drag, tipping his head back. You watch, transfixed, as the sunlight bounces off the lines of sweat criss-crossing down the strong column of his neck, and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.
‘It’s hot today,’ Joel breaks the loaded silence, though it’s possible that it’s unilaterally so on your side.
‘Uh-huh,’ you croak, still holding onto the water jug like a shield.
He peers at you with a touch of mischief. ‘You ain’t gonna swoon or anythin’ are you?’
Probably. And definitely not for the reason he has in mind.
You attempt a weak smile that may have come off as a grimace. ‘I’ll try not to.’
Reassured, he nods towards the garlic patch. ‘C’mon. Let’s get our hands dirty, sweetheart.’
By the time the vegetable patch has been thoroughly picked and the baskets crammed full, the sun is high in the sky, the morning clouds burned off with the heat.
Joel isn’t the only one who’s sweating through his clothes - your light cotton top is now clinging uncomfortably to your skin, sweat dripping down your sternum and dampening the cups of your bra. You heave a sigh of relief when he helps you move the haul to a shaded corner near the porch where you have an outdoor sink and wheel hose installed.
Emptying the root vegetables into the sink, Joel steps back and casts a critical eye over the rain gutters that line the eaves of your house. Fingers spread over one jutting hip, he leans his weight on his right leg, the stance creating all kinds of angles that are completely unnecessary in this kind of heat.
He points at the leaves and branches that are clearly sticking out from the channels, but you’re only really interested in studying his large hands. The bumps and veins on the back of them, the watch with the broken face on his left wrist, the dirt coating his thick fingers, pushed under tidily trimmed nails. The logical thought that follows is how he would leave dark streaks on your white top when he pulls you in by the waist -
‘Looks like the gutters need cleanin’,’ Joel declares.
Well, the gutter your head is currently dunked in can certainly do with a good scrub.
‘Rainy season doesn’t start for another few months, they can wait.’
He uh-uh's sternly. ‘I’ve heard that before. Do you have a ladder?’
‘You really don’t have to -’ you protest, but he won’t hear it.
‘It’s no big deal, I’m sweaty anyway,’ he replies. ‘Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour keepin’ me occupied. I don’t pick Ellie up till three.’
You bite your lip. ‘But I feel bad working you so hard.’
Without skipping a beat, he winks. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart - I like workin’ for it.’
Jesus Christ. This man needs to be locked up and the key thrown to a colony of clickers.
The inner contractor in Joel comes out to play as he climbs deftly up the extension ladder propped up against the eaves, gloves on and a tarp bag tied to the top rung for collecting the debris. Discreetly, you shuffle around the freestanding sink so that you have a clear view of him as you turn on the water and start washing the dirt off the onions.
He’s starting close by, just a couple of feet away from you, patiently scooping out the dead leaves and twigs by the handful. Up on the ladder with his side to you, you’re eye level with the swell of his belly, which stretches the seams of the vest, and the underside of it peeks out every time he reaches up for the gutters. Your cheeks warm with the memory of how the soft folds felt against you, so warm and solid that you ache to reach out, push the flimsy vest up and nuzzle the tender skin with your nose -
It takes you a couple of minutes to realise that you’re not even pretending to be washing the onions anymore, the hose running in your idle grasp as you stare, head cocked to one side.
You don’t hear him when he turns to you. ‘Can pass me the hose?’
You stare dumbly back at him. ‘Huh?’
‘The hose, Pin,’ he repeats, a playful condescension in his smirk, like he knows exactly what you’ve been looking at. ‘That onion looks sparkly clean.’
You’re not sure what happened. One second you’re holding onto the hose with the intention of turning off the water before passing it to Joel, but your brain skips that crucial first step, and the next thing you know, you’re pointing it straight at him, spraying him in water from face to chest.
As he splutters, you shove the hose into the sink and screech, mortified. ‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry!’
You watch in horror as the water trickles from his hair, down his stubbled chin and onto his chest - okay, that’s a lie. It’s definitely not horror that’s twisting in your tummy and then much, much lower between your thighs.
And if you thought this man looked good sweaty, well - you’ve seen nothing yet.
He might as well put you out of your misery and take off his undervest right about now. It’s completely see-through, pebbled nipples and the firm ridges of his pecs showing through the wet fabric, rounded out by the endearing soft pouch of his belly.
He wears the early summer tan so well, and for the first time since the outbreak, you think about the swim club in your old neighbourhood. Watching the water drip off his skin, it’s not a stretch to imagine this man pulling himself out of the pool after a quick dip to cool down, before stretching out on a sunlounger to dry in the sun - all in slow motion, set to the track of a corny sax riff.
‘I’m sorry,’ you say on reflex, but the apology rings hollow with the way your gaze lingers over his chest, and he notices.
He chuckles, carding one hand through his wet hair to slick it back, standing taller under your eyes. ‘As I said - never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’
Joel takes his time, clearing out all the blockages and hosing the gutters clean so that you don’t have to worry about them for another six months. He dumps the leaves and sticks in the compost post, rinses the soiled gloves and his hands clean, before taking his shirt off the washing line and heading into the blessed shade.
He finds you in the kitchen, back to the door, putting away clean plates and cutlery from the drying rack, porcelain knocking together and metal clanging.
This is the most he’s seen of you, in a tank top and shorts, bathed in light spilling in from the large windows that open out into the backyard. He sees touches of your workshop right here in the kitchen - dried herbs and seasoning in mismatched but tidy boxes on the shelves, knives organised by size on a magnetic knife block, plates and bowls arranged in neat stacks behind glass cabinets.
Not wanting to alarm you, he deliberately scrapes his shoe on the tiled floor to make his presence known.
Whipping around - and just a touch startled - you smile with a quiet hey, and Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever get over how the sweet shyness still clings to the curve of your lips despite the fact that he’s kissed you right there.
He stays by the door for now and says, ‘I put the ladder back, and the gutters are all done, but I spotted some shingles missing on the roof while I was up there. I’ll come back to fix ‘em some other time.’
‘Thank you so much Joel, but really, don’t worry about the roof. You’ve done enough.’
‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.
A comfortable lull sets in, and he looks up at the ticking clock, surprised that it’s almost noon. Shifting his feet, he opens his mouth and is about to excuse himself when you blurt out, ‘I’m sorry I soaked you.’
The jury's out on who's more taken aback by your phrasing. Exasperated, you groan, ‘I did not mean to say that.’
Joel’s kept a respectful distance since he arrived at the house, the pliant weight of you in his arms and your taste on his tongue kept firmly at bay in the back of his mind, not wanting to bring up anything that would make you uncomfortable in the light of day. But now, he pushes himself off the threshold of the door and crosses the cosy kitchen, pleased that you stay put when he plants himself in front of you, toe to toe.
Brushing a finger under your chin so that you’re staring up at him, he deliberately pitches his voice low and gruff, the double entendre almost crude in its delivery. ‘Just so we’re clear, you can soak me any time, sweetheart, in any way you want.’
Your lips part and your gaze darkens, and he feels his body instinctively react, invisible threads reeling him bodily into you. When you speak, your voice quivers, his name at once a single-worded reprimand and a needy whine that takes him right back to his brother’s spare bedroom. ‘Joel -’
‘Yes, Pin?’ he baits you playfully, just like he did that night, taking one last step so that you’re crowded against the countertop, bookending you with his palms planted on the wooden surface.
Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he quips easily, his attention on your mouth. He hears your shaky intake of air, the whole moment suspended on tenterhooks as you skirt each other on the brink -
Just then, a breeze drifts in from the open window above the sink, providing instant relief from the humidity that hangs heavy in the air. All of a sudden, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s sweaty all over, so much so that he might actually smell.
Self-conscious, he clears his throat and murmurs ‘I should probably go, I need a shower and a change of clothes -’
‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’
You don’t need to ask him twice.
He smiles. ‘Sounds good, sweetheart.’
Your ensuite bathroom, like what he has seen of your house, is clean and organised. There’s a neat stockpile of soap bars in the cupboard, and he spots the familiar bottles of regulation shampoo and toothpaste that the town mass produces.
The water is plenty hot as he efficiently lathers himself top to bottom and front to back, but the pressure is a bit weak for his liking and can be easily fixed. Something else to add to the list.
The towel you left on the rack is soft and smells like the sun. Patting himself dry and rubbing it through his hair, he wipes away the condensation off the mirror above the sink. He peers at his reflection, ruminating that it’s time for a shave, and pushes back his wet hair so the strands don’t get in his eyes.
Out of his clothes, only his jeans are passably dry, so he forgoes his boxers and pulls them on, carefully doing up the zipper. Using his shirt as a sling, he bundles up all the dirty clothes and opens the bathroom door.
He catches you coming into the bedroom as he steps out, and your jaw drops at the sight of him in just his jeans before you slap your palms dramatically over your eyes, the tshirt you’re holding onto covering your whole face and muffling your voice. ‘I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!’
Joel chuckles at your reaction. ‘Sweetheart, it's your house. And I’m not exactly naked.’
Lowering your hands sheepishly, you still clutch the tshirt to your chest like a security blanket, admitting, ‘Sorry, I just - I just realised I’ve never had a man in here before.’
Something wraps itself around his stomach and pulls, and it takes him a beat to put a name to it because it’s been so long. It’s possessiveness that rushes through his veins and goes straight to his head, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his voice from wavering. He demands, ‘Never?’
‘Never.’
He lets the word wash over him, appeasing the beast in him for now. With a slow nod, he takes three measured steps towards you, stopping just an arm’s length away. Gently coaxing you to let go of the purple tshirt, he snorts at the huge Lakers logo blazoned across the front.
He quips, ‘I’m more of a Longhorns fan myself, actually.’
The tension cracks, and you grin back, ‘Well, not anymore.’
After your confession, it’s probably redundant, but he wants to hear you say it. Flashing the tshirt at you, he asks, ‘Old boyfriend’s?’
It’s the most personal question that’s been exchanged between you so far by a mile, and it’s probably none of his business, but you can’t explain why your pulse spikes at the way his normally warm gaze hardens with something unfamiliar.
‘No,’ you answer. ‘I keep some of the stock here when there’s not enough room at the shop, that’s all.’
Joel rasps, ‘Good.’
With that one syllable, his shoulders visibly relax, suddenly drawing your attention to his topless form, which you’ve been too mortified to actually look at. It’s a lot to take in, and even though you’ve seen most of him already, there is one conspicuous part that you haven’t yet -
But before your eyes can trail that low, Joel turns. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll just -’
You’re slow to catch onto why he trails off in the middle of the sentence, still far too distracted by his general state of undress to notice until he’s already made his way to the top of your neatly made bed. And then you see it…
The flannel peeking out from underneath the duvet.
Oh. Fuck.
With an almost flippant flick of his wrist, Joel peels back the corner of the bedspread. Wordlessly, he stares down at the red plaid shirt he lent you at the baby shower, tucked snugly in your bed, buried half under your pillow.
He stares at it for so long that you interrupt the silence for once.
‘I’ve been meaning to return it,’ you squeak, hands flailing awkwardly, desperately wanting something to hold onto. ‘I just - forgot.’
Joel half-turns to you, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been keepin’ it in your bed?’
Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'
He picks up the shirt by the collar. It’s wrinkled all over and obviously worn in. He smirks, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’
You’re this close to swivelling around and making a break for it, but as soon as your axis of balance tilts backwards, Joel grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, hauling you firmly into his bare chest.
‘You’ve been wearin’ it to sleep, haven’t you?’ he asks in a tone that brooks no argument.
Your fingers curl into his chest, his skin blazing warm under your palms. There’s no point fibbing anymore, and you admit, ‘Yes.’
His voice is hoarse when he asks, ‘You wear anythin’ underneath it, sweetheart?’
You hold your breath for one long moment, the tension in the room swelling so quickly that your ears pop. Eventually, under his patient yet heated stare, you shake your head, lips sealed.
His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.
‘No bra?’ he prompts.
‘No bra,’ you parrot back.
His jaw clenches so tightly that you’re surprised he manages to articulate his next question. ‘No panties?’
‘No panties -’
You barely get the word out before Joel is kissing you, pushing the syllables right back into your mouth until you swallow them with a whimper.
And then he’s pulling back, growling against yours, ‘And what do you do naked in my shirt, hmm?’
You stutter, ‘I - I think about you -’
An undignified squeal escapes you when he suddenly spins you around, your back hitting the bed, denying you the chance to catch your breath. The ceiling fan turns directly above you, but it does nothing to quell the heat between your bodies as Joel clambers over you on his hands and knees, sliding his mouth over yours again in a hard kiss.
You always thought your bed was a decent size, but now, with the bulk of this man hovering over you, you’re not so sure anymore. His ridiculously wide shoulders fill your entire field of vision, and even though he’s holding himself up with his forearms by your ears, you can almost feel the full weight of him through sheer anticipation of his touch.
His heated words brush by your ear, making you shudder. ‘Tell me what you think about, sweetheart.’
‘Your arms, your shoulders -’ you hesitate, dropping your voice shyly. ‘Your belly.’
Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’
You duck your head almost guiltily. ‘Yes.’
His brows draw together in an endearingly confused frown. ‘Why?’
‘That time in the workshop, when we met, you were sucking it in so hard you could hardly breathe - but you don’t anymore.’
The dots connect, and his lips part in an oh. ‘I didn’t even realise.’
‘I know. That’s why it’s sexy,’ you point out.
He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve lost your mind. ‘My belly is sexy?’
You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’
He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips upwards. ‘You been watchin’ me?’
‘Maybe,’ you tease.
You exhale long and heavy through your nose when he sucks delicately on your bottom lip, opening you up so that he can dip inside, stealing a taste of your tongue with his.
‘Been thinkin’ about you all week, sweetheart,’ he whispers, trailing fire across your cheek and the hollow behind your ear.
‘I haven’t seen you around at all,’ you whine, tipping your head back as he nudges the tip of his proud nose down your throat.
‘I know, it took three fuckin’ days to clean up after the party,’ he complains, his disgruntled tone prompting a giggle from you. ‘Never again.’
‘I’m not so sure about that. There will be plenty of birthday parties to look forward to, Uncle Joel -’
An open-mouthed kiss on the side of your neck catches you off guard, the unfamiliar texture of the wet suction and scrape of his teeth jolts you clean off the mattress, sending you body slamming into his ribcage.
Joel hums, pleased at your reaction. ‘So sensitive. I’ve barely touched you yet, sweetheart.’
It’s immediate, the shame that burns under your skin at his remark despite knowing he doesn’t mean anything by it, and Joel frowns at the way you stiffen under him. Regret colours his words as he cups your cheek. ‘Pin, I’m sorry, that came out wrong -’
‘No, that’s the thing. You’re not wrong,’ you interrupt with a shake of your head. There’s no point denying it - you’re a grown woman, and there’s something fundamentally embarrassing about losing touch with that part of yourself over the years. ‘I - it’s been so long, I don’t even know my own body anymore.’
His eyes dip downwards and slowly, over the curve of your breasts and the arch of your back. With an encouraging smile, he argues, ‘I’m not sure about that. Looks like your body’s reactin’ perfectly to me.’
Your lips twitch despite yourself. ‘You’re just saying that to get into my pants.’
He takes the unexpected turn in the conversation in stride and runs with it. ‘Trust me, sweetheart, if I were tryin’, I’d already be in them.’
‘You’re such an ass, Joel Miller.’
His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’
Wrapping one palm on the back of his neck, you drag him into you again, relishing in the weight of him as he pins you to the bed with the broad frame of his shoulders. He moans into your mouth, claiming it with deep strokes of his tongue, while his calloused palms sneak under the hem of your shirt and pull you into him by the small of your back.
Even as your hips buck, begging for friction, Joel holds back, propping himself up on his knees to keep a tenuous grip on his self-control. Pulling back from your lips with a wet pop, he assures you through heavy breaths, ‘We can stop any time, sweetheart. Just say the word.’
Your response comes fast and sure, but he can read the hesitance between the lines, ‘I - I don’t want to stop.’
He presses a patient kiss to your lips, but backs away before you can deepen it. ‘How about this - we’ll flip you over so that you’re on top, and you decide what you want to do. Is that ok?’
You pause to consider his proposal, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip - he’s this close to kissing you right there and then. You ask shyly, ‘And it’s ok if we - you know, just make out?’
He smiles. ‘I can do with some good old-fashioned neckin’.’
‘Ok then -’
You yelp when Joel turns you over without warning, the sudden movement making your head spin. Sitting up against the headboard, he drags you in his lap and asks, ‘Alright?’
You nod with a nervous smile. It’s intimidating, being so close to him that there’s nowhere else to look but into his thoughtful eyes that are watching you for any signs of discomfort. Catching your breath, you settle into the moment and realise that you’re straddling him, hands clinging onto his shoulders, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His belly is warm and soft where he’s pressed up against you, but lower, nudging insistently between your legs -
Joel is hard.
The revelation robs you of air, want and need rushing like blood to your head, and you stiffen, not knowing what to do.
Joel catches on - you’re beginning to think that nothing ever escapes him - and he reminds you, ‘Just kissin’, ok, sweetheart?’
Snapping out of your freeze frame, you nod, ‘Yes. Ok.’
Giving you somewhere to start, he prompts, ‘Where do you want my hands?’
Tugging on his wrists, you watch his jaw go slack when you place his palms squarely on your ass, where your denim shorts hardly cover the top of your thighs. He lets out a lewd moan at the way your soft curves fill his hands, fingers squeezing and kneading greedily, and you push your hips back into his contact.
‘Not so shy after all, hmm?’ he rasps.
You preen at his praise, and riding the wave of boldness, you tip forward and press your lips to Joel’s before you could overthink it. Over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear him suck in a shaky breath, and you feel the deep groan in his throat taper into a whimper when you swipe your tongue into his mouth.
You’re completely unprepared for the power the sound unleashes in you.
Somewhere in your consciousness, a door is cracked open, and memory crackles at the edges of your mind. Each shuddered breath shared, every slide of skin on skin, brings to the surface what you thought you’d forgotten.
Your fingers burrow into the still wet locks at his nape, earning a loud moan from Joel when you pull on the grays that have distracted you on more than one occasion. He nips his way sloppily down your neck, trailing spit and beard burn as he goes, while your palms skate over his chest and down, down, down until your fingernails drag over the pliant folds of his tummy, hanging over the waistband of his jeans.
‘Sweetheart,’ he groans brokenly at the contact, forehead knocking into yours.
Spreading your fingers over soft flesh, you choke on an inhale when he bodily rocks into your palms. Your thumb catches the hollow of his belly button, fingers tenderly squeezing the creases and dimples of his belly. His eyes crack open under tightly knitted eyebrows, vulnerability etched in every line on his face.
Something shifts - something that neither of you can take back. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore.
Caught somewhere between writhing instinctively under his touch and a deliberate pursuit of friction, your hips find a rhythm that has the seat of your panties quickly twisting and dampening as you grind on the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.
Blunt nails bite into your thighs as Joel growls, ‘Shit, sweetheart. That’s it.’
You want to bury your face in his neck, feeling too wanton in the way you’re panting in needy whimpers, but he preempts that on no uncertain terms. ‘I want to see everythin’. Look at me.’
You do just that - you can’t deny this man even if you tried - watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide and wild, wetting his bottom lip the same time his eyes drop to your tits, as if he can see right through the thin fabric. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else though, his hands staying where you put them. You can feel his grip dig harder and harder into the swell of your ass, but he doesn’t try to change your rhythm, giving you free rein to ride him any way you need.
When your peripheral vision starts to go, you know it’s not a coincidence that your thoroughly soaked panties shift and strain against your clit, pinching it just so that you cry out, hips faltering.
Joel bares his teeth, and you feel his hips rut upwards into you, his restraint slipping. ‘There you go. You’re close, aren’t you?’
You can only nod, frantically grinding into him now, your whole mind narrowing until the only thought that remains is chasing that high that you can almost taste. Everything swells, electricity fills the air, his name a sacred chant on your tongue as you claw at his back, teetering precariously on the brink of something that promises to devastate you.
‘Joel, Joel, Joel -’
He catches you when you break - you fling yourself at him, knocking into him so hard that the back of his head hits the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch. Tucked safely into the crook of his neck, you whine and wail as you thrash in his hold, and his nostrils flare at your scent. He can smell you, he can smell the slick leaking from your pussy, humid and heady in the air between you, making his mouth water as he aches to taste you - all of you.
One day.
Right now, the hinge of his jaw almost cracks as you milk the last remnants of your orgasm with a needy swivel of your hips, rubbing against his cock at an angle that makes his vision swim, and he knows he’s too far gone. His control slips like shifting sands, and a primal instinct takes over as he bucks roughly into you, fingertips leaving imprints in your skin that you will feel for days after.
‘Oh fuck, sweetheart, wait, I’m - shit, I’m gonna -’
When it hits him, it’s fucking relentless - he cums and cums until his voice goes hoarse with your name, until it feels like his abdomen would cave in and collapse, spurting and spilling until it feels like he’s turned inside out. It goes everywhere, thick, milky strands filling the gaps in his jeans and sliding down his legs in a sticky mess, and he slumps bonelessly into the headboard, panting against your lips as he catches his breath.
Sweetly, gently, he tilts his chin up just enough to kiss you, his nose nudging your cheek intimately when he pulls away, his lungs too deprived of air to keep going. He winces when you shift above him, knowing that you can feel the wet spot pooling under your bare thighs.
Joel breaks the sluggish silence first, cracking a grin. ‘So much for just makin’ out.’
You clumsily climb off his lap and crash land sideways onto the mattress. ‘Is that a complaint, Joel Miller?’
He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’
‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’
He pffts. ‘Damnit. Should’ve read the fine print.’
You grin. ‘Well, at least there's something deeply poetic about cumming in the jeans that I picked out for you.’
‘Touché, sweetheart,’ he grunts and presses a kiss to your forehead. Glancing down at the unmistakable wet patch on the denim, he asks hopefully, ‘Any chance you got some pants I can borrow?’
Ellie bounces her leg irritably, hunched over on the stairs exactly where Joel was sitting this morning. Where the fuck is he? He’s twenty minutes late, and he had the nerve to get all huffy when she lied about the start time today. Unbelievable.
Moodily looking left and right, there’s still no sign of him. She’s about to give up and wait for him at home when something conspicuously purple comes to a stop in front of her.
Her jaw hits the floor.
‘Oh. My. God.’
She’s never been high before, but she’s pretty sure this is the stuff hallucinations are made of.
This being Joel Miller in a purple tshirt with a tacky logo she doesn’t recognise printed on the front and khaki cargo shorts that cut off at the knees, holding a basket of vegetables that she’s pretty sure he doesn’t eat.
With a roll of his eyes, he snaps, ‘Shut your mouth, you’re trappin’ flies.’
Pasting on the most obnoxious grin she can muster, Ellie croons, ‘Man, don’t you look pretty.’
Turning on his heel, Joel starts walking without looking back. ‘Shut up.’
Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’
‘Shut up.’
‘You really should wear shorts more often, y’know, show off those knees. And purple really is your colour, Barney!’
Joel frowns, shooting her a sidelong glare. ‘How the hell do you know who Barney is?’
Ellie shrugs. ‘What do you think they teach us at school?’
He’s the one who starts it. The quake in his shoulders would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but nowadays, there’s not much that he can hide from her. As usual, she giggles first, which trails into a squeal when Joel gives her a shove on the back, sending her stumbling over her shoes.
‘Fuck you, man!’ she snickers and basically rugby tackles him, but he barely budges, lips pulling back into a toothy grin.
Across the street, unbeknownst to the pair, Tommy smiles to himself as he watches his big brother laugh, really laugh - the kind that has him doubling over and gasping for air through watery eyes. For the first time since the world ended, he looks up at the sky with a reassuring nod, and he knows deep down - Joel will be just fine.
Notes: You guys continue to blow me away with your support - I cannot be more grateful for all the reblogs, asks and interaction with my silly Behind the Seams posts and random updates. Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think ❤️
I will be having a think over the next few weeks about where Seams will go from here. This chapter wraps up the first mini story arc, and I'll be dedicating August to wrapping up my Palomino series, so it will give me some time and distance to mull over what's next for Joel and Pin. I'm also a few followers away from a big milestone, so I might have something fun planned! 🥰
#fuckyeahseams#seams iv#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine
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As long as you want / Joel Miller x f!Reader
As long as you want - Joel!Miller x f!Reader
Part two
words: 5.3k
Summary: When you're injured in the stables one morning your patrol partner and enemy Joel Miller is the only one there to help.
Tags: Enemies to friends/lovers, Kissing, Mentions of Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Mentions of Scars, Medication, Mentions of violence, Joel POV in parts, mentions of 'baby', Tooth-Rotting sweetness in parts, mutual pining. NO y/n.
a/n: Originally gonna be part of my ‘So Much to Lose’ story, but the characterizations didn’t feel right for it, so I made a few tweaks and now this is a one-shot.
Dedicated to @katiexpunk because she took the time to send me the sweetest most encouraging message filled with lots of advice and just damn fine support for a woman who sometimes feels invisible on this platform.
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On mornings you wake up earlier than usual it's because of anxiety.
You never know when it's going to hit because it's never logical. Sometimes it's a day you have patrols, sometimes its days you have nothing at all.
You've been an inhabitant of Jackson city for almost fourteen months. That's plenty of time for your nervous system to adjust, to know that you're not being chased by the infected or fighting malnourished raiders.
But your brain doesn't seem to grasp that yet. Every few months it wakes you before sunrise leaving you breathless and terrified until you adjust to your surroundings and remember that you are in your home. That you have a real home with a soft bed and easy access to food.
And yet those days, like today, you can't go back to sleep. You can't force your body to relax again. You're all nervous energy and you need to calm down.
Thankfully you've discovered one place that gives you that sense of calm; the stables with the horses used on patrols.
You shower and pull on your clothes and are out the door quickly. It's so early that Jackson city is still slumbering and the sky is still dark and will be for a while longer. So it's just you and the dirt path that leads to the stables for company.
You see your favorite dark brown horse Milly, the one you ride for patrols. The one who keeps you safe while you and your patrol partner survey the nearby areas.
The patrol partner that apparently can't sleep either because as you approach Milly you see him inside the stables petting Glimmer gently behind the ears.
Joel Miller.
Of course he's here, the annoying man. Not one moment of peace is possible for you today.
The patrol partner you've been stuck with for the last year. The man who vacillates between mute and mocking when he's around you.
You hold in a scowl as you view his shoulders flexing as he smoothes his large hand down her mane, murmuring in a low rasp.
He's an austere figure in Jackson. Aside from his brother, sister-in-law and Ellie you don't see him interact with many people. You don't even think he has a girlfriend.
Not that you would care if he did.
Not at all.
Well, sure when you first met him on patrols in his form fitting jeans and shirt that positively strained over his broad shoulders you had been intrigued. And the face wasn’t half bad either - strong nose, captivating eyes and under his patchy beard…
Don't think about his mouth.
So you'd introduced yourself, citing that you were excited to be working with a man of his reputation. Because he was already a legend in Jackson City before you arrived - Joel Miller was ruthless, a crack shot, a prolific fighter.
He'd blinked in reply at that before he'd opened his pouty mouth and all the burgeoning attraction that had been building came crashing down.
"Don't know why they stuck me with a newbie."
It had only gotten worse from there: Cutting remarks about how you held a gun, sarcastic observations about your riding. By the end of your first patrol you'd officially decided you hated him.
Over your time together the animosity had morphed from all out mutual derision to a comfortable dislike between you two. An antagonistic relationship built on banter and irritation.
The only truly good thing about Joel is Ellie. She’s funny and brash and you love chatting with her. Plus when you see then together that dark countenance Joel maintains gives way to a soft kindness that radiates from him.
But Ellie isn't here now in the stables. Only Joel with his salt and pepper curls and lean neck.
"Hey Miller," you say with an exasperated sigh. He turns abruptly, his dark eyes narrowing on your face.
"The fuck are you doin' here this early?"
"Could ask you the same," you mutter as you give Milly a pat.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
Joel hums a reply, turning around to fully face you before leaning back on the stable wall. He watches you petting the horse and takes in the dark circles under your normally expressive eyes.
"You look like shit."
"How charming," you muse darkly. "It's a wonder you're still single."
Joel huffs a laugh, his mouth curling into a crooked grin.
That fucking mouth.
When it's not curled into a sneer or a smirk aimed in your direction you can't help but notice it's so soft looking. Plush, pink lips that don't fit the rest of his stern face.
Stop.
"I do just fine in that department don't you worry," Joel offers in that typical confident yet abrasive way of his.
"In that case you should ask out Martha next," you say in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure she'd love some one-on-one time with Jackson city's most mysterious and handsome bachelor."
Martha is one of Jackson's kitchen workers. She's almost seventy and has a very obvious crush on Joel because she mentions how handsome he is at every opportunity.
You smirk to yourself at the thought of him taking her to dinner. You don't even notice that he's drawn over to you petting Milly until you feel his breath on the back of your head.
"So you think I'm handsome?"
It comes out of Joel in an exhale, raspy and amused when he sees you sputter. You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wide. He's close, close enough to touch.
"No. I-I mean, it's just that- that's what Martha says," you say, feeling your cheeks heating. "About you being handsome and stuff. Not me."
Joel rarely looks this amused in your presence, but right now he's grinning so broadly a dimple has appeared in his right cheek. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his body.
"You sure, darlin'?" He teases his voice dropping to a purr. "You’re gettin' mighty flustered."
Darlin'.
That's new.
You hate how your pulse hiccups at the sound of it.
"Get over yourself, Miller," you manage in a shaky scoff before letting yourself into the pen with Milly, desperate to escape Joel's proximity.
You feel his eyes on you and in a panic you move behind Milly to reach for the hairbrush propped on the fencing.
"Watch it-" Joel starts.
It's your own fault what happens next.
Milly makes a terrified whinny and kicks out her back legs. You feel a sharpness in your side that takes your breath away, knocking you into the side of the pen. Milly makes another jolting motion and you feel Joel's hand pulling you back sharply as you yelp, clutching at your ribs.
Joel guides you out of the pen with a hand on your shoulder, dark eyes peering into your face when you both exit.
"Why the fuck did you move behind her?"
"I wasn't thinking," you groan, doubling over and resting your head against the nearest wooden stall. "Fuck."
It's a miracle you weren't too close. If you'd felt the full weight of Milly's power you wouldn't still be standing, albeit curled.
Joel stares at you, noting that you're white in the face, your spine bowed. You're clearly in a lot of pain.
"C'mon," Joel says, tugging the loop of your jeans, trying to prompt you into continuing to walk. "S'go."
"Where?"
"The clinic," he answers gruffly. "Stop wastin' time. C'mon."
"I can't move," you tell him, tears of pain slipping down your nose as you double over. "It hurts too much."
Joel mutters something under his breath before he strides away from you and out of the stables. You wait a few moments and when he doesn't return you feel a shocked puff of air escape you.
He just left you. Abandoned you in some of the worst pain of your life. You knew Joel Miller was an asshole you just didn't realize how much.
You fall to your knees, clutching at your side, the scent of hay and horse suffocating you. You wish you'd never come. Never tried to bond with another living creature.
Your head moves up slowly when you hear voices and footsteps from outside approaching. To your shock Joel and a tall woman with silver hair are there and Joel is murmuring to her.
"..n't sure if I should move her."
"Good you didn't," the woman assures him. "Could've done more damage."
The two of them move over to you and the woman urges you to breathe deeply after she introduces herself as Gemma the town nurse. You do, wincing loudly as a sharp pain nips your left right side.
"Fuck!"
Joel is standing back by the stables, petting Glimmer absently. When he hears you cry out his brows rise.
Gemma urges you to lift your shirt so she can see if there is swelling or bruising. You try but cry out in pain so she quickly lifts the hem of your shirt, tugging it up to just under your breasts. You panic when you realize you don't have a bra on.
"A bit of swelling," she tsks as her calloused hands sweep gently over your midsection. You whimper at the sensation, every swipe feels like agony.
You flush when you realize Joel is staring over at you and his eyes linger along the bare skin of your abdomen on display. He catches your attention on him and quickly looks away, nonplussed.
"Nothing's broken from what I can tell," Gemma hums thoughtfully.
"Doesn't feel like it from where I'm standing."
Gemma smirks and you think you catch a hint of amusement cross Joel's features.
"Likely a bruised rib," Gemma says with a concerned furrow of her brows. "You shouldn't be doing patrols. Not for a few weeks until this heals. You need plenty of rest, fluids and ice."
A strange feeling overtakes you then. Something between elation and disappointment at the thought you won't be going to do patrols for a bit. You don't understand why. You and Joel rarely get along, you should be thankful for the break. But you suppose you'll miss the consistent schedule.
"I brought a few painkillers I could spare," Gemma offers, rummaging in her coat pocket. She opens the glass bottle to reveal less than a few dozen white pills that you don't recognize lining the bottom.
"Is that all we have for painkillers?" You ask, concerned. "For the whole town?"
"For now these and a few dozen bottles of aspirin," Gemma nods. "When there's less snow we'll be able to scour around for more."
You look at the paltry selection and shake your head. "Nah, I'm okay. I'll just go home and rest."
"You'll take one right now," Gemma orders. "And you'll take a few more to get you through the night."
"I'll take two total," you negotiate, taking the first and swallowing it dry. The second goes into your jeans pocket.
You wait a few moments until the pill begins to take effect. It could be psychological but you feel like it makes it manageable to start walking.
"When you're getting up and down hug a pillow to your middle," she instructs. "Helps lessen the pain of the strain."
"Okay," you nod as you begin to shuffle. "Thanks a lot."
"Joel," Gemma turns to the lurking figure at the end of the stall. "You'll walk her home?"
Joel nods just as you shake your head.
"That's not necessary."
Gemma fixes you with a look she must have given dozens of obstinate patients over the years.
"Have you ever tried to climb stairs with a bruised rib?"
"No."
"Thought not. Let him walk you home and get you into bed."
You go to deny this but Joel is already herding you towards the path that leads to your neighborhood.
"S'go."
You walk slowly, shuffling down the street after Joel who walks at least three paces ahead of you. You don't mind, you don't really feel like chatting.
"Why'd you try to turn down the painkillers?" He throws over his shoulder as if just to annoy you.
"Because there weren't that many," you say grimacing. "And I'm not in that much pain."
He pauses, waiting for you to catch up. His dark eyes survey your hunched stance.
"Liar."
You keep shuffling, trying to ignore the irritation you feel at his curious expression.
"Yeah it hurts a bit but it's nothing compared to Chester's broken leg from chopping wood last month is it?" You reason, starting to feel a bit spacey from the drugs. "And what if something like that happens to someone else and I took up all the supplies because of a bruised ribi brought upon myself? I'd feel terrible."
"You shouldn't have been in the fucking stables to begin with," Joel says darkly. "Then you wouldn't have had to use any."
"I wanted to see the horses."
"They ain't pets."
"I’m aware," you throw back angrily. "But being with them in there makes me feel calm."
"Try meditatin' next time," Joel bites out.
You've arrived at the bottom of your front porch steps and you're all out of patience for Joel Miller.
"You can just leave me here. G'night."
"I'm followin' the doctor’s orders," Joel snipes, taking you by the arm so you can lean against him as you walk. "S'go, I don't have all day."
You grumble as you lean into his muscled arms, hating that you need to rely on him in any way.
"Quit complainin'," Joel grits out. You wince in pain and embarrassment as he slips an arm around your waist, the other hand on your free forearm helping you up the stairs.
"Slow," Joel murmurs. "Slowly now."
His voice is low and rumbled. You feel his breath on your temple as you take each step, wincing at the pain.
"Yep, just like that," Joel continues, his fingers curling around your hip as you take another step slowly. "Good girl."
Good girl.
It's the same way he talks to the horses. That gentle, husky coo. You know he doesn't mean it sexually but that doesn't stop it from hitting you directly below the navel.
You unlock the door, confused when Joel follows you inside. He scans the humble single story home, eyes falling on the paintings on the walls, the guitar by the fireplace.
He didn't know you played guitar. Or painted.
Joel knows you like to read, that you had a brother who died when he was young. He knows that your hair knots easily in the wind and that you hate the porridge in the dining hall. He's passively gathered information on you over the months patrolling together. But this? This is all new information to be stored.
He glances at you hobbling towards the bedroom and feels a mixture of irritation and pity go through him at the sight. He hates seeing you in pain and he feels a wave of protectiveness seep into his bones.
"Don't go in the pens anymore," Joel instructs. "I'm serious. It's not safe."
You turn around just so you can glare at him properly. He's standing by your table, acting as if he belongs there.
"You don't give me orders in my house, Miller," you say without thinking. "You're just mad I won't be around to deal with you on patrols and you'll have to do them alone because no one else in town can stand you."
The second it leaves your tongue Joel's face goes pinched and a cold. A cold, sticky sensation crawls along your insides at the sight of it.
"I'm sorry," you say quickly. "Fuck. That was such a shitty thing to say. Especially since you went and got me help. I'm just tired and in pain."
Joel nods slowly, his face as always, unreadable.
"Really, I didn't mean it,” you insist. “I'm sorry."
"I know you are," he huffs.
"So you forgive me?"
"Nothin' to forgive," Joel offers in a tired rasp. He takes you by the waist again, shuffling you into the bedroom. "C'mon."
He eyes your bedroom as the two of you shuffle into it, taking in the dried flowers in the window, the scattered books on the end of your bed. He smiles to himself at the sight.
"Couldn't decide what to read?"
"Read 'em all," you say walking slowly to the bed. "No new ones that interest me at the library so I was seeing which one I'd re-read."
You go to lower yourself onto the mattress but stop when Joel frowns at you and his hand taps your shoulder gently.
"You're gonna sleep in your clothes?"
You shrug. "I'll manage."
"You're covered in mud and hay," he states flatly.
You go to grumble that you don't particularly care when you feel Joel's large hands land on the buttons of your jacket.
"What're you-"
"Hold still," he murmurs with his eyes on his fingers as he unbuttons all ten of the fasteners on your long jacket. You wince when he pulls it off of you, delicately.
He's being gentle with you.
Joel is never gentle with you. He’s caustic and points out when you fuck up. He makes you carry heavy lumber with him when repairs need to be done. But now he’s touching you as if you’re made of spun glass.
He drapes your jacket over the chair by the window before returning to see you fighting with your jeans button. It hurts to move your arms like that right now. Every inhale is like a stab. Frustrated tears are sliding down your cheeks.
Joel doesn't like the sight of your tears. It makes him close the distance between the two of you quickly, chocolate eyes soft.
"Let me," he says business-like. "We'll do this quick and you can get into bed."
You want to deny him but you know he's right. You don't want to wake up tomorrow even more stiff, wearing dirty clothes and unable to undress yourself enough to shower. His fingers are at the waistband of your jeans and you're impossibly thankful he doesn't make the fatal mistake of meeting your glassy eyes.
Joel's fingers deftly pop your jean button then slowly lower the zipper. You hear him take a soft inhale before his thumbs curl at the waistband, dragging them over your hips and letting the denim fall to your knees.
You look to his face and you see his eyes flit from yours back down to his boots.
"Sleep clothes?"
"Dresser."
He nods, turning from you. Your cheeks burn, your heartbeat picking up the pace. Fuck, it must be the pill.
He pulls out a cotton nightdress as you clumsily step out of your muddy jeans. You cover your front with your hands the best you can, feeling shy standing there without pants in front of Joel of all people.
"Feels weird to be going to bed in the morning," you offer in the awkward silence.
He's back, eyes on your t-shirt, trying not to notice the high cut of your panties or the fact that you look so fucking enticing standing there with your shapely legs on display.
Joel is uncomfortably aware that he's not gonna be able to take off your t-shirt without getting hard and he doesn't want you feeling worse than you already are. He knows how much you despise him.
"T-shirt is clean," he reasons. "Can probably sleep in that."
"Yeah totally," you agree quickly looking between Joel and the bed.
You groan and blink a few times because a strange fuzz has started in your brain.
"You should go," you swallow, trying to ignore the arousal building in your core. "I'll be fine."
"I'm makin' sure you get into bed alright."
"Then what? You gonna read me a story and tuck me in?"
You're surprised when a soft giggle escapes from you.
"Stubborn brat," Joel mutters, even though his mouth is fighting against a grin. "Get in the fuckin' bed."
You feel oddly relaxed, even fond of the annoying man when you watch Joel pulling back the blankets of your bed for you. Regret and shame quickly follow when you recall your hard words from earlier.
"I'm sorry about what I said," you tell him quietly.
“You already said that.”
"Lots of people like you in town."
"No they don't," Joel says with a shake of his head and a grim smile. "My brother and Ellie are about the only ones who like talkin' to me."
"And me," you add with a yawn.
"Only cuz you got stuck doin' patrols with me. You gotta talk with me for those."
"I don't mind talking to you," you tell him honestly. "Sometimes I think you're funny."
Joel straightens, noticing the soft dreamy quality to your voice. He sees you swaying as you stand and he approaches you quickly. He peers into your face, seeing your pupils like large saucers and holds in a chuckle.
The irritation you feel towards Joel has been replaced by a dizzying bliss that has you smiling dopily as he nears.
"Drugs are workin' I see," Joel observes and his voice seems far away even though he's standing so close.
"Mhmm," you purr, leaning back before wincing and grabbing your side. "Oh fuck."
"Take it easy," Joel grumbles and his dark eyes swim into view. Have his eyes always been so pretty?
Joel I think..." you mumble something after that. You don't even know what you're saying. It's possible you're just making gibberish noises.
He leans closer, eyes squinting as he tries to parse the unintelligible stream of random sounds. His mouth is so full, his lips so sweet looking.
Something about his face so close and the lack of inhibitions from the medication has you feeling bold.
You move your face towards his so quickly he doesn't have time to shift back. Your mouth crashes into Joel's, lips slotting between his.
His lips are so soft. Full and soft and warm. You groan in delight as your hands go to his collar. You try to deepen the kiss, your tongue trying to slip between the seam of his lips but Joel is pulling back, his hands taking yours from his collar.
"The fuck are you doin'?"
There's a part of you that knows what you've just done is insane. But that part is so quiet, so far away. All you can feel right now is contentment and you smile up at him with eyes almost closed. He drops your hands.
"Mmm...Your lips are soft."
Joel is staring at you, mouth hanging open in slight surprise. You want to kiss him again but you're so fatigued from the medication you just give a yawn and feel your eyes shut firmly.
"M'tired."
"C'mon now sleepin' beauty," Joel chides, guiding you by the small of your back to the bed. He sits you on the edge of the mattress before placing a pillow into your arms.
"Squeeze it as you lay back."
"M'kay," you say doing as he asks, your eyes still closed.
He watches you, grimacing himself when you let out a soft yelp as you lay back on the bed. He waits for you to unclench before taking the pillow from your arms and tugging the blanket up to your chest.
"Lips are so soft," you say again as his face hovers above you. "How are they so fucking soft?"
Joel tries to hide the amused grin on his face. You're so loopy it's quite endearing. He can't wait to tease you about this when you're back at patrols. He can picture your scowl now, the flush that rises on your neck first and then your cheeks when you're embarrassed.
"Are my lips soft?" you ask in a concerned voice.
Joel licks his lips subconsciously, replaying your mouth on his. A sensation he's trying not to fixate on.
"Yeah," he finally relents in a husky whisper. "Real soft."
Plump and soft and sweet and everything he's been imagining they would be.
Without thinking he reaches over and brushes the hair from your eyes, taken by surprise when your hand weakly takes his wrist.
"Kiss me again, Miller."
"I can't."
"Please," you beg, your eyes cracking open. You start to whine and shift towards him in the bed before the pain hits you sharply and you wince.
"Fine, just lay back," Joel grumbles even as his heart picks up its pace in his chest. You do as he asks, sleepy eyes glancing up at him.
He leans forward and gives your cheek a chaste kiss before pulling back. He has to hide the amused chuckle when he sees your grumpy face.
"I wanted a real kiss."
"That was a real kiss."
"I meant on the lips."
"Tell you what," Joel says, greatly amused. "If you can look me in the eyes tomorrow when you're med free and ask me to kiss you, I will."
"Promise?"
"Yep and I'll make it a good one."
"Okay," your medicated self agrees quickly. "I'll ask tomorrow."
He knows you won't. You won't remember anything. He takes a seat at the edge of your bed, watching you slip into slumber.
Joel knows that he doesn't have to sit here any longer. He's got you in bed, you're drifting off, his job is done. And yet he lingers, watching your face go placid before you seem to wake yourself up.
"I've wanted to kiss you for so long, Miller."
"Uh huh," Joel says with disbelief clear in his voice as he plumps the pillow next to your head in case you need it. "I'm sure."
"You don't believe me?"
"Go to sleep."
"Member that day we went on patrols by Westons?" You slur eyes half closed. "And there weren't enough horses and we had to share one?"
Joel is surprised that you remember that. It was almost eight months ago.
"Uh huh," Joel nods, leaning back from where he sits at the edge of the bed. "Yeah, I remember."
"And we got to that clearing and you helped me down so we could do a perimeter check?"
"Yup."
"Yup."
"I wanted to kiss you then," you share. "When your hands were on my waist and you were smiling ... down at me. I thought... You were... so ... Handsome and... You smelled so good... Like leather n'..."
Joel sucks in a lungful of air slowly as he watches you fall back into a light doze. Your hand on your abdomen rises and falls as you begin to snore lightly.
Joel remembers that day at Westons. He remembers the way your arms felt wrapped around his middle, your body tight against his back as he rode with you on the horse.
He remembers that his horse was taller than you were used to riding. How you'd hesitated asking for his help to get down because he knew how prideful you were.
He had rolled his eyes, holding out his arms to you before you'd even had to ask him.
"C'mon now. Stop wastin' time."
You'd said something scathing back to him before allowing him to pull you into his arms.
He remembers the sound of your breath in his ear and the way your sweet scent enveloped him. You'd clung to him, slowly sliding down the length of his broad body before standing on the ground. His hands had lingered on your waist, smiling down at you in amusement at your discomfiture.
But then the gaze had lasted a little too long when he realized at this proximity he could see so many details in your face. The length of your lashes, the deep color of your eyes, the beckoning curve of your lips.
He'd always thought you were pretty. From day one he'd been enraptured by your smile. An attraction he hadn't felt since Sarah's mom. A frightening feeling that had him scowling at you and turning from you.
He remembers how he went home that night drunk on the memory of your soft body against his. He remembers how he fell asleep aching at the memory of your lips and eyes.
He remembers how ever since that day he's tried to convince himself he isn't attracted to you. That he isn't excited every day he has patrols with you because he gets hours of you to himself.
It's the reason he was at the stables so early this morning. Knowing he'd be on patrols with you tomorrow had him keyed up.
Joel doesn't like people getting close. It's easier to have most everyone hate him. And even as the months went on and your wit and humor broke through his outer wall, he still worked to keep you out.
But now you've all but admitted how you feel about him. And even if you forget it all tomorrow, he heard it tonight. The truth revealed. It makes his legs feel weak to know that the attraction exists on both sides.
"Joel?"
Your voice is soft but he sees the furrow of your brow. You're awake and anxiously looking for him in the darkness. Something about that small action makes his breath unsteady.
"I'm here, baby."
The soft smile you shoot his way makes Joel's insides turn to jelly. He doesn't even cringe when he belatedly realizes the pet name. You won't remember it.
When your eyes find his silhouette in the fading darkness he sees you visibly relax.
"I was worried you were gone."
"Nope. Been here the whole time."
"Good," you breathe before yawning so widely your jaw cracks. Joel sidles closer to you on the bed, his dark eyes scanning your face.
"You feeling okay? Any pain?"
"No pain," you say dreamily. "Just sleepy."
"Go to sleep then," Joel soothes, unable to keep the affection from his voice. "Doctor’s orders."
You nod and he thinks you're nodding off when your hand reaches for him.
"Come lay next to me," you say with a cracked voice. "Please?"
Joel hesitates before he sees you trying to sit up to convince him. You're gonna be in worse pain tomorrow if you keep that up.
"Fine fine. Just stop squirmin'."
He toes off his boots and slips off his jacket, placing it over the chair holding yours. After a moment of hesitation he lowers himself onto the mattress next to you, overtop the blanket. He hears your soft sigh as your head tilts towards him.
He rolls onto his side so he can face you, seeing your eyes closed languidly.
Your sweet face is highlighted in the dawning sun coming in from the window and Joel feels his heart throb at the sight. He sees you fighting sleep, eyelids fluttering.
"Go to sleep, baby," he murmurs. His fingers rise between the two of you coming to trace along your cheek. "Just go to sleep."
You give a soft exhale.
"Feels good having you here, Joel."
Joel feels himself melt at those words, his long fingers finding yours on the bed. He takes your smaller hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his calloused thumb gently.
"Will you stay for a while?" You whisper, your eyelids growing still as your body goes sluggish.
He smiles over at your placid face and answers you even though he's fairly certain you've fallen back asleep.
"I'll stay as long as you want."
#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel x reader#joel fanfic#joel the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#dad joel miller#pedro pascal fanfiction
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you’re my sunshine | joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you and joel are polar opposites. you are sunshine while he is cloudy. but you’re his sunshine and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that.
warnings: insecure!joel, undefined age gap (reader is in 20s, joel is canon age), judgy ass jackson people
word count: 2.5k
divider credit: @saradika
requested: yes by the lovely and inspiring @pedgeitopascal 🫶🏻 find it here
a/n: second fic, lets gooooo. requests are open, so drop one if you would like (i'm still new at this so i may not do all of them, just trying to get back into writing first)
The people of Jackson were stumped by the three newcomers.
Well, more specifically, they were stumped by you.
They didn’t understand how someone like you came along with the man and the girl.
There was Ellie. Even though she is only fourteen, the girl was wise beyond her years. A young girl that possessed the vocabulary of a sailor. Rough around the edges. Strong willed, incredibly witty, and as sarcastic as one could possibly be.
There was Joel. A man hardened by the cards that life seemed to have dealt him, emotionally stunted, and just plain grumpy. Borderline rude to the members of the community, apart from his brother and sister in law. Over cautious of each and every person in the community.
And then there was you.
A woman who embodies the word sunshine. An optimist. The type to always lend a hand whenever needed. Smiles constantly adoring your face. You can find good in any situation, even during the apocalypse.
So it came as a surprise when the community found out that you were dating the grumpy old man.
If someone had asked when you and Joel had gotten together, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. You don’t know how or when it happened, it just was. It had always been.
The two of you met a few years prior. Tess insisted that they needed another partner, a younger woman to attract a different type of customer. At first, Joel didn’t care. If that’s what the girl would do, then that was that. But when Tess brought you home, it shifted for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the men in the QZ doing business with someone as sweet as you. As pure as you.
So he looked out for you and in turn, you did the same. Quick hellos turned into small talk which turned into conversations. A pickup turned into a hangout which turned into you going to sleep in his bed every night. It just happened.
You were Joel’s and he was yours. It was simple.
Simple to you, at least. You loved him, it was obvious to anyone around you. You looked at him as if he was the center of the universe. You told him as much, as frequently as he would allow you to. It didn’t bother you too much that he never said it back. Regardless of the small and doubting voices in your head, you knew he felt the same.
Joel, even after years with you by your side, still didn’t quite understand how someone like you could be with someone like him. How someone like him could deserve to be with someone like you. After everything he had done before you, everything he had done to protect you.
But you were. And it isn’t that Joel is complaining, because he is not, he just doesn’t know what to do about it. How to act around you in public with the prying (and equally as confused as him) eyes.
Everywhere the two of you went, the eyes followed. The thoughts of the community consumed Joel’s mind. He knew what they thought of him, hell, what they thought about Ellie. And while he couldn’t stand how they viewed his surrogate daughter, he understood why they viewed him.
He wasn’t kind like you. He didn’t acclimate like how you did. He didn’t offer his skills to better the community. He avoided going to the movie nights unlike you, who embraced the chance to mingle with the community.
Joel didn’t miss the way the people would shy away from you whenever he would approach. How their conversation would abruptly end with a forced goodbye, as if Joel was an intruder to his own relationship.
As the time went by, Joel began to doubt himself. How could someone like you want to be with him? With a past like his? He wasn’t worthy of your attention. Of your time. Of your love.
Hell, Joel couldn’t even bring himself to tell you that he loved you. Even after all the years you’ve spent together. He did, he loved you more than he ever thought was possible after Sarah died. He just didn’t know how to tell you.
Joel wasn’t a man of words, he was a man of action. He showed you that he loved you. Whether it was fixing you your favorite tea in the morning or building bookshelves for the many books you’ve found on patrol, he showed his love through acts of service.
But he was beginning to doubt that it was enough for you.
It started at the Tipsy Bison. Joel had promised to help Tommy repair one of the decks to a house. You weren’t much help with a task like this, to your dismay, so you had wandered off to town with the promise of meeting the brothers when they had finished for the night.
Ellie opted to stay back at the house, feigning sickness. You could see right through her act but knew how the girl had been struggling since arriving in Jackson. How she had been struggling before the three of you even got here. So, in spite of Joel’s obvious displeasure, you granted her the solace that she was silently requesting.
You were sitting at the bar with a group of women, discussing the upcoming holiday and how the town would celebrate it, when the Miller brothers made their appearance in the establishment.
And while your smile grew at the sight of your man, the women around you seemed to tense. As Joel approached you, the conversation faded into quiet murmurs.
“Hi babe,” you greeted as he stopped in front of your stool. You watched as his cheeks flushed at the pet name, the smile you wore only growing. “You and Tommy finish the deck?”
“Not yet,” Joel responded, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He nodded to the women surrounding you, only receiving a tight lipped smile back in response. “Got too dark and Maria needed him home.”
“The girls and I were just talking about how we could convince Tommy to dress up as Santa for the kids this year. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” You were excited about the idea, evident by the happiness lighting up your face.
“The sweetest,” Joel replied, shifting foot to foot under the watchful eyes of the women around you.
As you filled Joel in on the other plans for the upcoming celebration, the three other women that you had been planning with watched the interaction. It was almost comical to Joel – he was labeled as the rude one, yet these women were looking back and forth between the two of you with obvious confusion. Suspicion towards Joel. And, if Joel was reading it right, one of them was wearing a shade of disgust.
Joel knew he wasn’t the best type of person in the world but to be looked at with disgust seemed a bit too far for him.
“Joel?” Your voice startled him from his thoughts. You had slipped your coat on before beginning to rise from the barstool you had been perched upon. “You ready to get back home? I want to make sure Ellie is okay.”
With a smile and a wave, you bid the ladies a goodbye before turning to your boyfriend. You watched as he forced a nod at them before he began to make his way towards the exit. Falling into step with him, you slip your hand into his coat pocket, lacing your fingers along his with a squeeze. Eyes on his face as you watch him let out a shuddering breath, shoulders tensing even more than they usually were.
You may be an optimist that sees the best in not only every person that you encounter but in the world as well, even if it is a fucked up mess thanks to the cordyceps. You may be a cheerful person with a smile on your face more often than not, even in the face of danger. But you weren’t stupid.
And you certainly weren’t blind.
You saw how the people in Jackson treated Joel. How they looked down upon him. He may not be totally involved in the community, but he helped where he could and when he could. The people of this town operated on favors, but it was hard to fulfill one for someone when you were on patrol as much as Joel was.
Everyone took rotations, yourself included. But Joel took it a step further. Maybe it was his incessant need to protect Ellie and yourself, maybe it was his nature. Or maybe it was just what he thought he could best provide to the community for. Joel was outside the wall more than he was inside of it, patrolling new and old areas alike to ensure the community’s safety. Going on what seemed like endless supply runs to restock any medication, materials, and other things that anyone could potentially even need.
Not only did you see everything Joel did for the community, even if they couldn’t share that view, but you saw how Joel treated Ellie. How he treated you.
How he wasn’t good with words or how he didn’t know how to show affection. But you knew, regardless of if he put it into words, how much he loved his two girls.
You knew he loved the two of you through the surprises he would bring back from patrol for the two of you. Whether it was a book you had mentioned liking in your childhood or hunting down every last remaining can of Chef Boyardee for Ellie, he showed you. Whether it was the old guitar he had traded to get for Ellie on her birthday or the singular flower he would pick for you ‘just because’, he showed you.
But regardless of the bountiful thanks you both had given him, you can see the doubt pooling in his eyes. The disappointment eating away at him at the thought of not being able to give the two of you more. The constant guilt of his past actions. You knew what he thought of himself and you knew that he didn’t think he could ever deserve you.
You just didn’t share that opinion.
So when you hear the women you were previously conversing with snickering about your boyfriend as you walk towards the exit, something snapped within you.
Slipping your hand from his, you practically march your way back to the women, leaving a perplexed Joel behind, watching from the door of the restaurant. Watching as your hand smacks onto the bar top in front of them, leaning over to sneer at each of them. You didn’t get like this often, preferring kindness, but when you did, Joel couldn’t help but gawk at you.
“You may think you know him,” your voice is as cold as your glare. “But you couldn’t even begin to understand the type of person that Joel is. Might I remind you that none of you have been on the other side of that wall, so you truly have no idea what he does every damn day to make sure that you can sit here on your asses and gossip like small town bitches.”
The women before you go silent, jaws dropping at your words. They hadn’t expected someone like you to snap. But the people of Jackson, especially those that were not on patrol rotation, had no idea what it was like on the outside. You had to do what you had to do, regardless of your sunny disposition. Just because you were usually radiating positivity didn’t mean you wouldn’t bite back when necessary.
You take their lack of a response as an answer. “Next time you want to judge someone based on their first impression, maybe try to understand what they’ve been through to get to this point first. If you went through even a fraction of the shit that the three of us went through to get here, you’d actually think before you spoke.”
“That’s not what we meant–”
“Then what did you mean by the constant glares? The whispering when you think no one can hear you? Running away the second you see him?” You raise your eyebrows at them, challenging them to respond. “Please tell me what you meant, I’m sure you had a great reason.”
Their mouths opened and closed, searching for the words but found none. Still in shock over your outburst.
“That’s what I thought. Let’s keep this from happening again, yeah?” With that, you turn and head towards the door. As you pass Joel, you grab his hand and tug him outside. Once outside, you take a deep breath of fresh air, halting in your steps in effort to calm down your racing thoughts.
“W-What was that?” He asks, equally as stunned as the women that got told off by you.
You shrug. “I don’t like the way they talk about you. Or about Ellie.”
Joel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” you answer simply. “I know how it affects you. How you think about yourself as is. They only make it worse and that’s not okay with me.”
“You can’t blame them,” Joel sighs, rubbing his gloved hand down his face. “They aren’t wrong.”
“They are wrong, baby,” you tug his hands from his face, replacing them with your own by cupping his cheeks. “You have no idea how far from the truth they are, how far you are.”
You thumb his cheeks, a small smile playing on your lips as you think about him. “I know you don’t view yourself in the brightest light, Joel, but you are everything to me. You and Ellie are the best things in my life, I wouldn’t trade the two of you for anything in the world. I would do anything, say anything to make sure that you know how much you mean to me.”
His eyes are glassy as his hands slowly make their way to your wrists, swallowing hard at your words. You know he struggles to hear it, to hear any sort of praise that would go against his thoughts.
“You’re a man of action, not a man of words,” you whisper. “Let me show you how much I love you.”
Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press your lips to his. Joel stiffens, not used to the public display of attention. You hold firm, sliding your hands off his cheeks to wrap around his neck in an effort to pull him closer to you. After a moment, you feel him relax, hands shifting to your hips as he molds his lips against yours.
The two of you stay entangled in each other for a few more moments, lips dancing with one other. With one last peck, Joel pulls back, eyes shining as he takes your swollen lips and flushed skin. He looks at you in wonder, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.
“I love you too,” Joel whispers. “My sunshine.”
And for the first time in a long time, the smile on your face is mirrored on his.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#insecure joel#still getting used to it#joel the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#m writes
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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ⸻ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒
ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader
⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟
genre: enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni
word count: 5.2k
chapter summary: unlike what you thought, the rumor hasn't been dying out and with a new game plan in mind, you go to seek out Joel.
warnings: age gap, fake dating, mostly fluff, drinking, small town gossip, people talking about the age difference, another heated kiss
**dividers by @saradika
You’re a fucking idiot.
A moron.
A fool.
Fucking small towns. Of course, rumors would spread. Of course, everyone would start talking about seasoned survivor Joel Miller and his new young lover. You shudder at the thought, unable to identify if it’s a bad shudder or the kind that makes your stomach flutter. You hate the idea of Joel being right. He’d said people would talk. And newsflash, unlike what you had thought, the gossip hasn’t died out.
There are two fundamental reasons why neither you nor Joel can just shrug it off, saying it’s not true. The first reason is that both Steven and Marc saw you being shoved up against a wall, passionately locking lips with Joel. The second reason is the fact that no one would think the twins were lying.
Again, this wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t have a past to hide. People would start digging if you told them the rumors were only that. Rumors. They would start asking questions like where the two knew each other from. And you knew for a fact that Joel doesn’t want people digging either. People knew what kind of man he was, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they will turn a blind eye to him killing the last hope of human survival.
Snow crunches under your boots, your body sweating despite the cold. Tommy’s place finally comes into view. You pray he hadn’t heard any of the rumors, as impossible as that might be.
Some part of you believes that if a time ever comes when everyone finds out what Joel had done, you'll stick up for him. You’re the only person who knows the way of the firefly. How easy it was for them to kill when they thought they were the heroes. In the end, he spared you, it was hard to hate a person who allowed you to live. No matter how much he regrets it now.
On the porch, you stare at the door. It’s weathered for the most part, some parts fixed and polished but not the whole thing.
You knock loudly two times, it doesn’t take long for Tommy to open the door, his lips curling instantly when he lays his eyes on you.
“Well well well, look who it is,” he says too cheerfully, you’re already rolling your eyes. “The good old sister-in-law! Can you tell me why I had to hear about you and my brother tying the knot from Wellington?”
Jesus fucking Christ, Wellington knows? No wonder this bullshit isn’t dying out.
“We’re not married Tommy.”
“Yet.”
“Just tell me where he is, matchmaker.”
He raises an eyebrow, his smile melting, “You don’t know?”
It takes you everything for you not to take deep heavy breaths. He’s making this exceptionally hard. You had a plan. And that plan meant you and Joel wouldn’t be an item in the near future. For said plan to work, however, no one needs to know it was fake to begin with.
“I don’t have his schedule, Tommy, and I wanted to surprise him with,” You press your molars together and lift your bag, forcing a smile. “Baked goods.”
Tommy is full of glee again, “Awwww how fuckin’ sweet. Didn’t know you had it in ya Pecan.” Before you can answer, he points to the bag. “I’ll give you the information for one cinnamon roll.”
You give him a deadpan look, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’d only gotten two and you were looking forward to it. Instinctively you pull the bag back, hiding it behind you. “No.”
“Come on, pay up, or else I ain’t tellin’ you.”
“Fuck, fine. You’re a mean one.”
“If you say Mr Grinch I’m taking two.”
“No!”
He grins widely, perfect straight teeth coming into view. As he leans forward to snatch the bag away, you get a whiff of his scent and witness how perfectly his dark locks fall forward. Fuck, what kind of super genes did the Millers possess? How are they both so effortlessly attractive? It’s sometimes easy to forget that Tommy can be classified as good-looking since the two of you tend to give each other hell most of the time. But during those short moments where you get a good look at him? It’s devastating.
Tommy holds out the bag and stuffs the cinnamon roll into his mouth, his jaw moving.
“You really not gonna share it with Maria? It’s a miracle your spine isn’t broken from sleeping on the couch.”
He takes the roll out of his mouth and takes a proper bite, “I’m a fuckin’ delight to be around and she’s not home.” You take the bag and as you do, stick out your tongue. “Brat. Your loverboy is at the tree farm cuttin’ up trees. Tell him I say hi and he should find me later.”
“I’m not his secretary.”
“It’s almost like you want me to take all your treats.”
The smell of pine fills your lungs and you’re grateful. You adore the smell. The freshness and sweetness of it mixing with the crispness of snow. You’re honestly amazed at how organized the tree farm is. Tall, lush pine trees in perfect order as you walk between them. Lights have been strung up temporarily, the wires that tie them together so thin that it almost looks like they’re hanging from the sky. They must look beautiful during the night.
It takes you a while to find Joel. He’s in the back and you approach him silently. That wasn’t your initial intention, being snuck up on is never fun. But the way he’s chopping wood makes your insides feel all runny and warm. You didn’t know he additionally chopped firewood as well. He lifts the axe and throws it down, sweat beading on his forehead. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, exposing the sinewy muscle of his forearms to your gaze. He cuts down another log, it becomes two in one swift motion. Your mouth dries and tongue rushes out to wet your lips. Your mind cruelly reminds you of the night you kissed him, how good it had felt to have him pressed against you, claiming you—
“Why don’t you bring a damn camera next time, it’ll add to the whole stalker pervert thing you have goin’ on right now.”
Okay. He’s joking. Joking is good, right? Joking means that he doesn’t think about covering your face with a pillow while you sleep. Your body tenses, the soft hairs scattered across your body rising with attention.
“Sorry,” you blurt out, the two of you standing only inches apart. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you but we need to talk.”
“I was wonderin’ when you’d come by. Sucks to be wrong doesn’t it?”
“How was I supposed to know people had nothing else better to do than talk about our non-existent relationship.”
Joel suddenly throws the axe down, impaling the sharp end into the wood, you jump, adrenaline humming in your ears. He ignores your very fair reaction and peels off his gloves, turning towards the bench, “Gee, only if someone had told you that people would talk.”
“Yeah, okay I deserve that.”
He sighs, “What do you want?”
“Like I’ve been saying since the day I realized who you are: to talk.”
“Fine. I was about to take a damn break anyway. Come on, now.”
You both sit on the ice-cold bench, he leans over and picks up a thermos. You’re surprised when he also pulls out two mugs, placing them on top of a clearly handmade bite-sized picnic table. Without a word, you quickly place your offerings as well, at least the ones Tommy had let you get away with, two cheese-stuffed bagels and one cinnamon roll. You frown when you look at it. You really wanted that roll.
“What’s this?” Joel asks, filling the mugs.
“I thought you’d be in better spirits with a full stomach.”
You almost earn a hint of laughter but the sound is quickly swallowed down. The traces of his smile still linger on the corner of his lips, “Well, at least you’re not dumb enough to come empty-handed.”
Ignoring him, you place your cold palms around the mug and take a sip. The fresh taste of lavender and honey coats your tongue. Your favorite. “Huh, weird,” you mutter.
“What? Does it taste funny?”
“No no. It’s just. . . Lavender tea is my favorite.”
“Go figure,” he takes a sip and scowls. “I’d rather have coffee.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you were a tea-loving man.” He grunts and picks up one of the bagels, taking a bite. “About the whole dating situation, I have a plan.”
He doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said so you continue, “The plan is we fake it for a while, act like a couple, make everyone gush over us, then we break up, saying we wanted different things. That way no one digs into our pasts.”
“This is the weirdest way anyone has ever asked me out.”
You snort, “I’m not asking you out. The key word here is fake. Because if we just say we weren’t dating at all, people are going to wonder why you had me up against a wall. And unless you want to tell people you were threatening me. . .” you give him a look but he’s staring at the horizon, chewing thoughtfully on his bagel. You think he’s scowling but you’re not sure. “I think this is the best way.”
He swallows the last bite and glares at his mug before taking another sip of his tea, he wrinkles his nose. “How would we have to be around each other? I haven’t exactly been datin’ around that much.”
“I was six when the outbreak happened. I’m pretty sure your guess is better than mine.”
That finally catches his attention, his eyes widen, the furrow between his brows deep, “Six?” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
You’re used to people being surprised. Most like you haven’t survived. And your references to the past always made you seem older than you were, you preferred it that way. The less people could guess about you the better. Your mom and dad always paid extra attention to tell you about the world before the cordyceps, reminding you that a life like that could still be your reality once again.
“Was. . .” Joel swallows, pulling you away from your parents. You reach for the other bagel and start eating, giving him time so he can just spit it out. “Was that your first kiss?”
There is something in his voice, an emotion very similar to guilt. You swallow your bite.
“No. It wasn’t.” And that’s all you have to say about that. It seems to be enough because he visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping. You change the subject. Quickly. “I’m thinking we hold hands a bit, kiss each other on the cheek, and stuff like that. We can come up with rules if you want but I think it’s pretty straightforward.”
He nods. An oddly comfortable silence stretches out. You finish your bagel and drain the rest of your tea.
“We should probably split this,” he says and pulls out a knife from his belt.
“Oh. . . you can have it.”
Joel chuckles, it isn’t quite a laugh but you still take it as a win. “I saw how you were oglin’ it. I ain’t gonna risk you biting my head off,” he cuts it into two and offers you the bigger half. A smile brushes against your lips. “Why didn’t you just get two?”
“I did!” you gasp, forgetting that the two of you aren’t lovers, not even friends. “Tommy took one as compensation for telling me where you were. By the way, he wanted me to tell you hi and that the two of you should meet up later.”
“Why ain’t he lettin’ me know his damn self. I know he ain’t doin’ shit today. You’re not my secretary.”
“That’s what I said!”
Another chuckle. You’re acing this.
“I’ll get him to pay you back, don’t worry.”
“You don’t have to,” you laugh. “It’s just a roll.”
“Well, you’re my girl now, aren’t you? It would be unboyfriend-like of me not to avenge my girl. If we’re gonna fake it, might as well do it right.”
My girl. Your cheeks grow warm. You know it’s not real, and that deep down he most likely despises your existence that threatens his peace but still, it’s good to belong. Even if it’s not real. Even if it’s a lie. Your brain tricks your body into feeling whole for a brief moment, that internal coldness you’ve been feeling since the day your parents died melting ever so lightly, the warm water that drips over the icy exterior, warming your stomach.
“Tell him he owes me two then,” you say, barely above a whisper. “The bakery rarely makes them you know, cinnamon is hard to make.”
He nods but doesn’t add anything else. The crinkles soften at the corner of his eyes, lips looking soft and pliant. You might’ve even dared enough to say that he looks at peace.
You stand and leave, taking a mental note to bring him more treats from now on.
You successfully fool yourself into believing it’s for his sake and not yours.
Joel enjoys the cold. He always knew he would but was never allowed to say it since he never lived in the cold. He hated that argument. Sure he lived in Austin his entire life but that didn’t mean he didn’t ache for a bit of chill. Even at the end of the world, when he barely had enough to cover his back, he found himself enjoying the little things. The fresh, crisp air, the snow crunching under his boots.
The silence.
Sometimes he wonders if he likes it so much because it reminds him of death and considering all the seasons, winter is the one where he is closest to it. Closest to Sarah. He does hope she’s someplace warmer now. He’s not a man of faith, but for her, he’ll believe there’s an afterlife where nothing but good and butterflies exist.
Joel also feels closest to her when he’s with Tommy. His brother is the only one who knew her, the good in her. He was the one who was there when the world was stripped away from such a kind being, and he was there when she was buried under the world she could always see the best of.
As Joel walks up to the porch the brothers' eyes meet, it’s true that uncles resemble the kids. Sometimes if the light hits him just right, Joel could see a bit of her in him.
“You owe her two rolls,” Joel huffs, sitting on the empty chair beside Tommy.
“I don’t know what she told you but we had a very fair exchange, I don’t owe your little girlfriend shit,” he grins, not noticing the way Joel frowns at the label. “Nice to see the guard dog in you hasn’t died out.”
“I ain’t a guard dog.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Just bring her two tomorrow and I’ll owe you one favor.”
Tommy’s grin only widens, “You must really want to impress her.”
Joel fights the urge to roll his eyes. This whole arrangement is going to be a pain in the ass, he can sense it.
“Fine, tell pecan I’ll have her goods Friday. I doubt I’ll be able to wake up early enough to get it tomorrow but you owe me one Joel.”
“Why the hell do you call her Pecan anyway? That ain’t her name, you dumbass.”
“It’s because she has a hard shell but nice and soft on the inside.” Joel’s shoulders raise and he swallows thickly around the knot forming in his throat. He remembers the way you tasted on his tongue. How soft you were against him, no hard shell in sight. Tommy has no idea just how soft you are and can be. His cock twitches under the denim. He hates himself for it. “You should bring her to the party tonight.”
“Huh?”
“That party, Joel,” Tommy playfully smacks his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you forgot already. You promised to come.”
Oh yeah. Fuck. He really doesn’t want to go and deal with all the eyes he already knows will be on him. And you.
“Yeah, ‘course I remember. I’ll be there.”
“Just you?”
Joel sighs, “And her. We’ll be there.”
“You know, I’m truly happy for you brother. You deserve to be happy with someone who appreciates you.”
The words sting but he can’t do anything about it. He looks away, eyes staring at the snow-covered trees. “I don’t like being at the center of attention.”
“It’ll die out. The lonely bachelors are just jealous. Don’t mind them.”
Joel doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s talking about. You’re nearly half his age, six when the damn world came to an end. He knows people are wondering how the hell an old man like him got a girl like you, as if your age is the only reason to be with you. Not that he would know. None of this is real after all. You don’t appreciate him like Tommy suggested, maybe grateful for not putting a bullet between your eyes but that’s pretty much it. The same goes for him. He doesn’t know you—other than that you enjoy lavender tea with heaping amounts of honey and cinnamon rolls.
“I won’t, Tommy. No need to worry.”
When you hear a loud knock at the door, you’re staring at your reflection in the mirror. Ever since the kissing mishap with Joel, you’ve been a bit more conscious of what you look like. You’ve never had a reason to care much about it before and you’re not sure you like being this aware of every little flaw now.
Walking to the door, you’re not sure who to expect. You don’t have many friends other than Tommy and Maria, you’re already on alert, grabbing a small knife from the kitchen. Old habits die hard.
What you weren’t expecting is to see a distressed Joel Miller.
“Didn’t figure you knew where I lived.”
“I’m the brother-in-law of the woman in charge, of course I know where you live. I know where everyone lives.”
You lift an eyebrow and lean against the door frame, his eyes drop to the knife but fear is the furthest thing in his features, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“There’s a party at Tommy’s and he wanted me to invite you.”
An involuntary groan escapes your lips, Tommy knew you didn’t want to go. The fucker.
“And let me guess, I have to go because we’re a couple.”
“Don’t give me attitude it was your idea, not mine.”
He’s right, “Fine. Come in and I’ll change so we can leave.”
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearin’ right now?”
You try not to hide yourself behind the door as his eyes sweep you from top to bottom. Inherently, there isn’t anything wrong with what you’re wearing. It's just your typical jeans, sweater, and a dark green flannel thrown on top. You’re warm and cozy.
“Isn’t this a party?”
“What do you think they’ll be wearin’? Suits and fancy dresses?”
“I guess you’re right, I’ll get my jacket.”
Feeling warmer than normal, you lock the door and the two of you head to Tommy’s. “So, should we. . . talk about what we’re gonna do or say?”
“Say?”
Joel shrugs, “You know, if they ask us how we met or somethin’.”
“I think half the town knows how we met, Joel.”
“A’right, so our story is that I helped you down, had a couple of drinks, and decided we like each other?”
“Sounds iron proof to me.”
“This is fuckin’ stupid.”
“I don’t see you coming up with any plans.”
“Wouldn’t even be in this mess if not for you.”
The harsh bite in his tone makes you take a step back without thinking. You’ve seen this man kill with ease. He’d admitted to regret leaving you alive. Fear is an irrational thing. It’s something that lingers and stays even when the initial threat has been evaded. You’re still afraid despite knowing you don’t have to be. You’ve been enjoying your little talks, you’ve been enjoying spending time with him. Internally you’re conflicted and confused.
Joel slows down along with you, turning and checking just how far you’ve fallen behind. He stops and turns, eyes taking in the furrow of your brows, the running of your nose. You don’t flinch when he touches your cheek, his gloved hand soft against your skin. He’s so gentle. So gentle that it almost hurts.
“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Promise,” he lets out a steady breath, fixing you with a leveled gaze. “I might not trust you or even like you, but I won’t hurt you.”
Your eyes widen, heart thudding loud enough that you’re positive he can hear it. Without a word you nod, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Joel nods back. His hand deserts your cheek and he locks your arms together, tugging you along the snow.
You believe him when he says he won’t hurt you. As foolish as that might be.
Two hours into the party and still all everyone can talk about is Joel and his new girlfriend. Even goddamn Maria had asked about it. Joel is still recovering from his sister-in-law’s interest in the matter. You were a definite natural in faking it. Unlike him, who was already exhausted from it all. It’d been a long couple of hours of holding hands, standing close, and kissing cheeks.
He’s holding a glass of the finest whiskey he’s ever had since the world ended, surrounded by familiar faces and his brother. You had scurried off somewhere. To the bathroom, he thinks. Or helping Maria with organizing. He probably should’ve asked, but he’s not used to questioning people unless it’s Ellie. But since the two of you are “dating” he suppose he should’ve.
“Yo Miller.” Joel fights the urge to groan as Wellington approaches with a raised hand. He slaps him on the shoulder, his cheeks and nose red and warm thanks to the alcohol. “You gotta tell me your secret.”
Joel sends Tommy a questioning gaze, his bother only shrugs. “‘Bout what Wellington?” he sighs.
“About catchin’ such a fine piece of ass.”
Joel’s shoulders raise, nostrils flaring as anger boils in his gut, but before he can get out a word Tommy intervenes, “Wellington.”
“What?” he slurs, turning to the younger Miller. “We’re all thinkin’ it. How old is she huh? Like half your age?”
Joel feels sick when the man grins. Wellington ain’t lying, you are half his age. Realistically, someone like you would never go for him. An old man who’s lost so much in his lifetime. But of course, he can’t say that, he can’t say anything that might out them as liars.
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Joel grunts, pushing Wellington’s hand off his shoulder. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
“I’d say money but that don’t exist anymore,” Wellington continues. “So what is it?”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up—
“Joel?”
Your voice cuts through the tension like a knife. Everyone who’s in-ear shot of the conversation stills, an icy cold wind enveloping all of them, including Tommy. Joel recognizes the look of worry in his brother’s eyes. The older Miller swallows thickly as he rips his glare away from Wellington—he’s surprised that despite the amount of alcohol in his veins he looks ashamed.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
You shudder in a way only he notices. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Your body subtly going straight and then relaxing. He wonders how much you’ve heard, or rather if you heard.
“I need some help in the kitchen, could you?”
“Uh, yeah sure. Of course.”
He ignores Tommy’s snicker and follows you through the crowd, away from the sight of Wellington and others. You stop at the threshold of the kitchen, not going in. You lean against the door frame and look away. “Sorry, I don’t actually need help. It just looked like you needed saving.”
“That bad, huh?”
“If looks could kill, Wellington would be dead thrice.” You say it so nonchalantly that he smiles, Joel mimics your stance and leans against the other side of the doorframe, leaving only little distance between you two. “What did he say?”
So you didn’t hear. Good.
“Nothin’ that you need to concern yourself with. He’s just buggin’ me, that’s all.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Didn’t really look like it was just buggin’.”
The subtle accent change at the end of your sentence makes him laugh, you shake your head but he sees the way your lips quirk into a smile.
“You makin’ fun of me sweetheart?”
“. . . Maybe.”
“That’s the type of talk that’ll get you in trouble you know.”
Your smile widens into a grin, “With whom?”
“Keep it up and you’ll find out.”
It’s been a long time since he felt like this. The enjoyment of the tug and pull. Heat spreads from the small of his back and reaches all the way to his groin. You must’ve had a couple of drinks before asking for him. You lean closer, your lips deliciously curled as mischief glimmers in your eyes. He wonders if you thought about the kiss. How close your bodies were that night.
“Be careful Miller,” you say, rolling your tongue over each syllable. “Almost sounds like you want me to keep it up.”
God, that he does. He’s starting to get hard. Without even thinking he leans a bit closer as well, tilting his head as if he’s about to kiss you. Your eyes flash with something expectant—
“KISS!”
The delicate moment shatters with reality. You’re not flirting, you can’t, because technically you’re already dating. Joel hates the way you flinch at the sudden crowd shouting. His head whips towards them, only to see Tommy taking charge, he points to something above and both of your heads snap up like a cartoon.
“Mistletoe,” he says. Lowering his gaze, he gives you a quick smile. “You know what that means, right sweetheart?”
You roll your eyes, “I do, jerk.”
“Brat.”
He almost laughs at the way your lips quickly wound shut. The crowd is getting restless.
“Don’t y’all have anythin’ better to do?” Joel quips.
“Nope!”
The echoes of kiss kiss kiss only get louder from there. Joel sighs, “I don’t think we can escape them.”
“If I had a penny every time we had to kiss to appease a crowd. . .” you whisper. He expects you to continue but you don’t, instead you place your hands on his cheeks, holding him gently. You come closer and as does he, his hands slide to your hips, tugging you flush against him.
You’re so soft. Softer than he deserves.
Unlike the first time, he takes the lead. He pushes you until your back is pressed against the doorframe, he claims your lips with a need he fearfully admits he doesn’t have to fake. He squeezes your hips, the sound of the crowd awing them fading into the background. It’s just his lips that move, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to feel your tongue against his. To feel the quiver of your naked body as he fills you to the brim, kissing you and telling you just how much he enjoys being inside you.
He swallows your tiny moans and whimpers, and as he breaks away, he pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth. You’re breathless when you meet his gaze, sharp eyes glazed over with a fog of arousal.
Then, as the crowd claps, he presses the side of his face against your ear, “Just a taste,” he whispers and feels your tremble underneath his palms. “Of what’ll happen if you keep it up.”
“That was one hell of a party,” you muse. You’re staring at the dark horizon, snow gently falling from the sky. Joel pushes a warm mug of tea between your hands.
“It’s still goin’ on,” he says.
“You’d die if you just let me live in my blissful bubble wouldn’t you?”
“Sure would.”
You let out a snort as he settles near you, your shoulders brushing against one another. You have to admit, it’s been a fun night—and not only because of the kiss. That was just a bonus. A very hot and steamy bonus.
It felt too real to be fake. Too real to be nothing. Years you had been alone and now you were sampling what it meant to have someone care for you, to tease you. He doesn’t even know you yet you two fit together like a glove and a hand. Makes you wonder how different this could all have been if he hadn’t been Ellie’s father, and you hadn’t been a part of the Fireflies.
“Oh good you’re still here.” The two of you turn to see Tommy, his cheeks a little flushed and his breath a little uneven. “I need to ask you two somethin’.”
“What now?” Joel groans, prompting a smile from you.
“You heard of the new family in town? The one with two kids?” You have no idea but Joel seems to know who they are. He nods. “We don’t have a house ready for them yet so I was thinkin’. . .” his eyes flicker between yours and Joel’s, your stomach going tight with worry. “You two can live together till we’re finished with the construction.”
“What?”
The question leaves your mouth before you can properly register. You turn to Joel but much to your surprise, he seems unfazed.
“Just for a while,” Tommy says. “I just figured since you two are already datin’. . .”
Joel ignores his brother completely to fave you, “Your call sweetheart.”
Seeing him so calm makes you ashamed of your initial reaction. You’re not even sure why you reacted so brashly. It was a simple request. A logical one.
“Yeah sure, that’s okay,” forcing a smile, you turn to Tommy. Joel’s touch is soothing behind you, hand rubbing small circles at the base of your spine. A welcome comfort. “Just let me grab my things and you can set them up tomorrow.”
“You’re the best, pecan,” Tommy glows, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll give Maria the good news.”
Joel’s hand deserts you almost immediately when his brother is out of sight. It makes your heartstrings tug. “You sure about this?” he asks. “It would be fine if I lived alone but Ellie is a curious one and she’ll figure it out if we ain’t convincin’ enough.”
“In all honesty, I had completely forgotten about Ellie,” you let out a deep exhale. “But I guess that’s fine. I’m sure we can pull it off. It’s not like I could say no.”
His gaze softens, “You could’ve asked to stay somewhere else.”
“No. . . It’s fine, Joel. Really,” you crack a smile. “I feel like I should be asking if you’re alright with it. You’re the one with the problem with me being around Ellie.”
“I’ll have my eye on you two,” he says a bit too quickly for comfort.
Your tongue sours, “I’m not going to tell her anything.”
Joel doesn��t say anything. Or even acknowledges that he’s heard you. He leaves you on the porch, following his brother’s footsteps, you’re left with nothing but a lukewarm mug of tea.
Then you notice it’s lavender.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#tlou fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal characters fanfic#hbo the last of us fanfic
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