
387 posts
A Mess-Volume 2
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË âA Mess-Volume 2â Ë ŕźâĄ â・Ë
About: A 5 part sequel to A Mess with lots of sex and drama and cute moments. The goal is closure and a happy ending so I hope youâll all enjoy! Itâs written over the course of the final seasons of TWD. So, Savior arc -> the very end!
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Ex Reader!Walsh)
Era: Alexandria Pre-Saviors -> Post Whisperers
Genre/Vibe: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Happy Ending
Warnings: lots of smut, profanity, TWD typical things, spoilers

cover art by the amazing @dixons-sunshine ! Please check out this lovely personâs blog!

â Ë・âŕ¨ŕ§Ë Teasers â Ë・âŕ¨ŕ§Ë
â°â⤠âMustâve needed that.â He smirked. âThat attitude oâ yours was gettinâ kinda old.â

â°â⤠âThe hellâs goinâ on in here?â Daryl called into the disarray that was once his home.
âDaryl!â You gasped, skipping over to him and jumping into his arms. With his attempted killer preoccupied and another witness to his potential demise in the room, Eugene finally felt safe enough to stand up, both hands still hugging the Jack Daniels tightly to his chest.
Daryl tilted his head at Eugene as you dangled from around his neck.
âI â Sheâs crazy.â Was all Eugene managed to say.

â°â⤠âI justââ He took a breath to collect his thoughts. âShe donât know about none of it, ya know? I just.. I donât look at her and see somebody I let down.â
âIs that what you see when you look at me?â
âNo.â He shook his head. His gums were raw from how hard heâd been chewing at them. âI see somebody Iâm afraid oâ lettinâ down.â

â°â⤠âWasnât what?â You snapped, turning to face him, eyes blazing. âWasnât what it looked like? Yeah, right. Heard that one before.â
Your body was trembling with rage. Considering the events that led to your relationship with him in the first place, you were infuriated that heâd be doing the same thing to you as your sleaze bag ex.

Part 1 - here
Part 2 - here
Part 3 - here
Part 4 - here
Part 5 - Coming Soon
Havenât read the original series? Find all 10 parts on the masterlist! (Banner credits also linked on the masterlist!)
tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix
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More Posts from Duckybird101
OC + Core - Pinterest Game
Thanks for the tag Flor @justrainandcoffee! In honour of the fact Iâm trying to get back into writing Reckless again, and because she popped up in your wonderful Eames fic, hereâs one for my beloved Holly đ¤

Itâs a lot more witchy/cottage core than my girl is đ¤

Âť Reckless ÂŤ
Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Holly Matthews OC

~ Series ~
Red Carpet
(Completed)
â˘â˘ Cillian Murphy x Original Character â˘â˘
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Epilogue-Part 1 Epilogue-Part 2 Ask Game-Part 1 Ask Game-Part 2 Take It Slow (smutty extra)
Hope
(Ongoing)
â˘â˘ Josef Gabcik x Reader (sans âY/Nâ) â˘â˘
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Why Deny?
(Ongoing)
â˘â˘ Leonard Miller x Reader â˘â˘
Preview - Part 1
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19
Wonât You Be My Neighbor?
(Completed)
â˘â˘ Emmett x Reader â˘â˘
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18
Enemies with Benefits
(Ongoing)
â˘â˘ Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader â˘â˘
Preview - Part 1
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17: (1 of 2) Part 17: (2 of 2) Part 18
~ Randoms / One Shots /Not Quite a Series ~
It Should Have Been You
(CompletedâŚmaybe)
â˘â˘ Tom (The Party) x Reader â˘â˘
Part 1 Part 2
After Hours
(Coming soon)
â˘â˘ Robert Fischer x Reader â˘â˘
Mood boards Sneak Peak
Blind Date Masterlist Three
Pairing - Modern Thomas Shelby and Reader
178 179. 180 181 182
THE GREAT WAR
Joel Miller x f!oc

pairing: Joel miller x fem!reader.
status: completed.
series warning: angst, fluff, established relationship, age gap (Reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), child loss, anger, some tension.
series summary: "After things fell apart it seemed that Joel and you were falling into pieces. Is it the end of all the endings? How long will it take to mend a broken heart?"
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
/All that bloodsheed , crimson clover uh-huh, sweet dream was over, my hand was the one you reached for
All throughout the great war/
weakness
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader



summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frankâs place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20âs and Joel is in his early 50âs). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of readerâs size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.
word count: 5.7k
âCan you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?â Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo youâd used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells likeâgrime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, âYou know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.â
You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. âAlright, alright, Iâm sorry,â you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You canât see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Frankeâs face as he continues brushing your hair. âSo, tell me again why weâre even doing this?â you question him just a minute later, as if he hasnât already explained it to you about a hundred timesâhe wants to do something special for you. âIt kind of seems like a complete waste of time, donât you think so?â
âWeâre doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,â Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when youâd been about seven years old, and heâd imagined that since then, youâd never done a single damn thing for your appearanceâbesides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. Heâd have been absolutely right about that. âAnd besides, itâs something of a special occasion today,â he adds. âItâs the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.â
You canât help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess.
âYour hair is so healthy,â Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. âYou should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.â
âLong, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,â you laugh, shaking your head at him. âMost of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.â You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. âListen, Frank. I really do appreciate what youâre trying to do for me. I really do,â you swear. âItâs incredibly sweet, but thereâs really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.â
âExactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?â he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.
âBut Frankââ
âHoney, this is a fight you simply arenât going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.â He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. âClose your eyes,â he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as youâre told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Billâs bedroom. âOkay. One, two, threeâopen your eyes.â
Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise.
âWhat the fuck,â you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbonesâthe color heâd found was one one that flatters the tone of your skinâand the thin coat of decades old mascara that heâd applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed heâd force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite.
âWait until you see what I found for you to wear,â heâd told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. âYouâre going to love it!â
Skeptical, you had asked, âAm I though?â
Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and heâd let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside.
âYou look perfect,â he gushes. âLike a daydream!â
You look different. But that isnât what brought on the shock. More than anything, youâre completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look.
Sure, coming over to Bill and Frankâs always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasnât stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. Youâd had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.
Youâd never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime.
Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how youâre feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. âYou look absolutely beautiful,â he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. âI really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.â
You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude.
Frank smiles back. âGood. Now, come on, letâs go out front and have lunch.â His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. âIâm really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.â
âWhat?â you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. âWhoâyou mean, Joel?â
Shit. Youâd almost forgotten about Joel.
What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?
Whatâs he going to think?
Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, thatâs what.
âWho else would I be talking about? Bill?â Frank snorts. âYes, Iâm talking about Joel.â
You glare at his back. This isnât the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times youâve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. âDonât start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.â
âHe might as well be,â Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.
âFrank, Iâm being serious,â you say. Normally, werenât so uptight about it all, but today, youâre not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while youâre wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. âIâve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. Heâs my partner.â You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, âHeâs my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. Thatâs it.â
Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. âHmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset togetherâI have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.â
Stubborn, you shake your head. âHeâs like fifty!â
âThe world ended and thatâs your concern? An age gap?â he questions. âReally?â
âFrank,â you plead his name, groaning. âI swear it. Weâre nothing to each other. Joel isâwell, heâs Joel. Heâs not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.â
He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. âOh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,â he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. âWait a minute, just hear me out. Theyâre polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, theyâre almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man whoâll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say thatâs pretty accurate?â
âYeah, sounds like Joel Miller,â you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.
âBut Joel also reminds me of Bill because heâs the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,â he further explains. He pauses and then asks, âLet me ask you something. You trust him, right?â
You donât even miss a beat, answering, âOf course. With my life.â
He ticks his index finger at you. âAha! Exactly!â he exclaims. âYou know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. Heâd never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?â
You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. âIs this a trick question?â
Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if youâd missed the obvious. âItâs because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.â
For a moment, it feels like all the windâs been knocked out of you.
Could Frank actually be right?
Do you actually mean something to Joel?
No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesnât give a shit about anyone or anythingâall he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. Heâs been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.
âUnder that tough, rugged exterior, thereâs a soft spot. Itâs there, for you and only for you.â Frankâs eyes glimmer, speaking a truth heâs been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. âYou might need to do some digging to find it, but itâs there.â
âI just donât understand why you would think that,â you confess, shaking your head. âJoel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.â You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. âYes, Joel looks out for me, but thatâs only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.â
Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.
âWhat? Whatâs so funny?â
âOh, sweetheart. You donât even realize it, do you?â
Your eyebrows knit together, confused. âWhat? Realize what?â
âYou are his weakness.â
Heâd said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut.
âOf course Joel isnât going to tell you how he feels about you. Heâs afraid,â Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.
âYouâre wrong. Joel isnât afraid of anything,â you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. âYouâre wrong, Frank.â
âHeâs afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.â Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frankâs expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.
When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions youâre trying so desperately to shove down. âFrank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.â Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. âIâm really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?â
Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.
âOf course. Come onâ Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloomâthe small, round table heâd set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.
As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. âItâs about goddamn time!â He grouches loudly. âJesus Christ, Frank. Iâm fucking starving!â
âSorry, got caught up inside.â Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. âBut look, I found myself something pretty!â
Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasnât going to make a fuss about your new appearance. âFrank, please. Donât.â
âOh come now, you know I have to show you off!â
Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, heâd talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frankâs chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.
âWhat do you think, Joel?â Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.
Joel doesnât respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.
âWay to put me on the spot, Frank,â you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch smells heavenlyâFrank knows itâs your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on todayâs menu, bless his heart.
Joel still hasnât uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldnât.
âJoel?â Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. âDoesnât she look pretty?â
You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, âFrank!â
Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, âYeah. She looks very pretty.â
His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly.
Had he actually meant that?
âYou look real nice,â he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging whatâs left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.
Bill clears his throat roughly. âWell, if everyoneâs done playing dress up, Iâd really like to fucking eat now.â

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant.
Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.
Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didnât see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at armâs length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in.
As youâd tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as heâd never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair.
Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.
About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. âDonât worry, Iâve got it,â he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. âYou and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,â he suggests. âOh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.â
âBut I forgot my library card at home,â you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadnât been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds heâd mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Nightâs Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that itâs playâyouâve never read a play before. Still not convinced if itâs one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum.
You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadnât noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, âFind somethinâ good?â
Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. âJesus Christ, Joel,â you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. âDonât sneak up on me like that!â
âNot my fuckinâ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,â he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.
A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. âShakespeare, huh?â
âYou know Shakespeare?â you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, âHe from your time?â
Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. âYeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckinâ years before my time, thank you very much.â He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. âHad the world not gone to shit, you wouldâve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryinâ to interpret it all.â He hands it back over to you. âHere.â
âSounds like a real fucking dream,â you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. Youâre trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joelâs eyes glaze over you from head to toe.
âYâknow, itâs kinda nice,â he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. âSeeinâ you like this.â
You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. âWhat? In a dress?â
âWhen weâre here, you let your guard down. Ainât always lookinâ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.â He pauses, then adds, âYou look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckinâ better, though.â
Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, itâs the genuine tone in which he had said themâyouâd never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didnât smile.
You force a small chuckle. âItâs the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when weâre here. Because I am happy when weâre here.â Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside.
When you hear Joelâs footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.
âFrank, he adores the hell outta you,â Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, âYou ever think of askinâ him to stay here?â
âYou kidding?â You snort in response. âBill wouldnât allow that. Never.â
Joelâs hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. âBut you know Frank can convince him of almost anythinâ, donât you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythinâ and you make Frank happy.â
You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close heâs standing to you. âJoel, what exactly are you getting at?â You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, âAre you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?â
Joel quickly shakes his head. âOf course not. All Iâm sayinâ is thatââ He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. âI like seeinâ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.â He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. âSeeinâ you all cleaned up, well fed and contentââ He trails off once again. âShouldnât be a rare occurrence, yâknow? Youâd clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frankâs help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.â
The second you realize heâs being serious, your smile fades.
âWhat? But what about you?â
âDarlinâ, Frankâs good, but heâs not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, thatâs not somethinâ Bill would ever go for,â Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. âAnd even if he did, weâd fuckinâ kill each other by the end of the first week.â
Bill and Joel being neighbors?
Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.
âI know that much,â you reply with a tiny eye roll. âWhat I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?â
âThat ainât no fuckinâ lifeââ
You hold up a hand, stopping him. âI know itâs not. But itâs my life with you, Joel.â
The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time youâd ever seen that happen.
The scowl on his face wasnât permanent after all.
âYes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothesâthis is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that weâre living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldnât be happy here, not without you.â
Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. âThink about what youâre sayinâ here.â
âI know what Iâm saying.â Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. âI refuse to leave your side, Joel. Thatâs never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?â
Joel exhales the breath heâd been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.
âI mean it, Joel. Weâre in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,â you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. âOkay?â
âYouâd be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shitâs that been goinâ downââ
âIâm the safest when Iâm with you, Joel. I know I am.â
You lift your hand to his face. At first, thereâs minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel canât help but wince. Not because he doesnât want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking long since anyone had ever touched him like that.
Since heâd let anyone touch him like that.
He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks into your touch.
Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that itâs beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.
âHey,â you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. âWeâre in this together. Thatâs how itâs been and thatâs how itâs going to stay,â you assure him. âMy place is with you, Joel.â
Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. âYou really fuckinâ gotta stop talkinâ to me like that, darlinâ.â
You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. âWhy?â
ââCause. Shit like that is dangerous.â
âDangerous,â you repeat, almost laughing. âOf all the thingsââ
Then, Frankâs words from earlier come to mind.
Heâs afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.
Joelâs dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. âYouâre so soft,â he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.
âJoelâŚâ
Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.
âEverythinâ you just said a minute ago, âbout not wanting to stay here without me,â he starts to say, âI know that itâs fuckinâ selfish of me, but Iâm real glad you said it. âCause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know itâs wrong butââ
Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of himâbut your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.
You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.
Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.
The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large handâthe same hand that slits throats and breaks bonesâdelicately cradles the side of your face like youâre made of porcelain.
âJoel,â you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.
His face remains just inches from yours.
âFuck,â he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. âWeâll need to get goinâ soon.â
âI know.â You nod, hoping you donât sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly donât, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line youâll never come back from was daunting.
Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. âI need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Yâknow, get my pack ready before we take off.â
You nod again. âIâll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.â You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. âJoel, about what just happenedââ
He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.
This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage.
Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.
âWell, well, well.â
Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face.
âHow long have you been standing back there?â
âLong enough.â Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. âWhat did I tell you?â
You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.
So maybe heâd been right after all.
Maybe you were Joelâs weakness.
But he was yours too.