Blind Date Masterlist Three

Blind Date Masterlist Three

Pairing - Modern Thomas Shelby and Reader

178 179. 180 181 182

There’s A Woman || Part 2

Part 1 part 5

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Drunken shenanigans 

Gif Credit:@peakypeaky  @peakyblindersdaily  @themiseducationofb

Note: I don’t know how often I will update this or if I will ever update it again. But the support I got for part 1 was unbelievable. Thank you for that!!! A lot of you asked for a part 2, so here it is.

As always, Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are the cheese to my macaroni writing soul and make my fuckin day!

“You got a wild one ‘ere, Arthur. Best keep an eye on her.” John’s joking voice storms through the door, filling the home on Watery Lane as Polly unlocks it and everyone funnels inside after a long night at the Garrison. John spins you out on his arm into the entry way, having practically danced the whole way home.

“I can’t be tamed, Trouble.” You tell him with a playful wink as you call him by your favorite pet name, planting a quick kiss of thanks on his cheek for the good time before he heads home to his herd of kids.

You shoot a pointed glance at Tommy as you pass to make sure he heard your words too. He’s been hovering around you all night, sighing and trying to get you to have a seat and calm down. You’ll have none of it though, instead you take off for Ada standing near the fireplace, hooking your arm through hers as you both giggle and begin to spin around the room in dizzying circles. 

The whiskey rich in your veins, leaving you both hollering and carrying on as you folic clumsily around the small sitting room, until one of you trips and you both tumble to the floor in a heap of laughter against the old rug.

“Christ sakes,” Polly sighs “A’right, off to bed with the both of you before you break everything in the house.” She orders, like a good mother looking after her flock as she pulls the pin from her hat and places it down on the coffee table.

“A’right, you got the word.” Arthur tells you, coming up to you with a slow labored step of his own, reaching for your hand to help you back on your feet.

“Dance with me, Arthur.” You giggle as he helps you stand, wrapping your arms around his neck as a snort gets caught up in your fit, the sound only making you laugh harder. In one swift move, Arthur pulls your arms from his neck and bends down to swing you over his shoulder as you squeal in surprise and excitement.

“It’s off to bed for you, lil’ lady.” Arthur says, moving for the stairs, his uneven drunken steps jostling you about on his shoulder, making you laugh harder as you hang down like a rag doll.

“Fuck sake Arthur, put her down.” You hear Tommy’s frustrated voice fill your ears, watching his black leather shoes come into view from where you hang down near the floor, drunken giggles spilling free with the bounce from every labored step Arthur takes.

Keep reading

Hey! I was wondering if you would do a comfort fix with tommy Shelby, where the reader gets kidnapped and beaten to get information about then Tommy finds her and comforts her/super protective too? 😮‍💨 thanks! Btw OBSESSED with the fics you have put out already

Thank you for waiting!!! I hope this is what you were looking for!! <3

Also I'm so happy you are enjoying my stuff!!!! Its so nice you took the time to drop me a request!!

Warnings: Violence & torture.

Part 2: https://padfootdaredmetoo.tumblr.com/post/665512524672827392/can-you-please-write-a-part-two-to-the-tommy

You were surrounded by loud music and laughter. Colours swirling around the room and drinks sloshing. You were enjoying a dance with Esme, after a few more twirls and a dirty comment from John you both were laughing too hard to keep up with the song. Moving back to the booth you looked around and everyone's rosy faces made your heart swell a little bit. Somehow you managed to work your way into the circle as an honorary member of the family.

Though Polly and Esme teased you that it was Tommy’s interest in you that made him agree to it. He had specifically told you it was because you had an irreplaceable set of skills and that you had proven your loyalty to the family. You knew deep down you wished it was something more than that, but Tommy was a very difficult man to be involved with. These were thoughts that should be considered while sober. Or at least alone. You were too drunk to feel the pain in your feet, or the tiredness of your muscles. It had been a long week, no better way to end it really, but still everything had caught up with you and a warm bed sounded much more appealing than another round of drinks. Arthur had started on one of his stories you’d heard a hundred times and you decided it was best to leave.

“I'm going to head home” You whispered to Esme. She gave you a small pout.

“Alright love, get home safe. I’ll tell the others after the story is over” She kissed your cheek and you got up from the table without anyone noticing. You stepped out and enjoyed the chilly air on your flushed skin, lighting a cigarette you made your way down the street.

Suddenly you were grabbed from behind, immediately you started elbowing and screaming. The large man pulled you towards a parked car. You cursed your delayed responses, but you didn't give up. He pushed you against the side of the car and you head butted him, he fell back taking your favorite stand of pearls with him. You tried to run, but three men pulled you into the back seat. Next thing you knew the car was moving and you were being tied up.

__________________________________________________

Tommy finally made his way out of the snug, irritated by another pointless meeting. His eyes started scanning the place looking for you. As soon as he stopped hearing your loud laugh, he rushed the meeting along.

“Where’s Y/N” Everyone looked around.

“She’s left, and I don’t blame her, if i have to hear one more story ab-” He didn't wait for Esme to finish before running out the door trying to catch up with you. A slight acidic feeling washing over his stomach at the thought of you walking home alone. He’d scold the others later for letting you go. He didn't need to see you to know how drunk you were, he could tell by how loudly you were laughing at John's low brow jokes.

Walking around the corner he saw a man with a busted nose laying on the ground, still breathing. His hand was wrapped around your handbag, pearls scattered on the pavement sparkling in the moonlight.

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

You woke up on a cold floor in a dimly lit concrete room. You refused to outwardly show any signs of distress, despite the urge to start crying. You laid there mind spinning, trying to think of who had taken you, what their accents were, how you fought.

Your body curled inward when you realized that no one would notice that you were gone till everyone stumbled into the shop tomorrow.

Eventually you heard the door to the room unlock. You sat up and a tall, well dressed man strode into the room. He kneeled down in front of you and grabbed your jaw roughly. He smelled heavily of cologne and smoke, there was something wrong with his hazel eyes that you couldn't quite place.

“You are going to tell me everything about Thomas Shelby.” He had a funny sounding english accent you refused to be intimidated by.

“Oh piss off. Why would I do that?” your question was answered by a hard slap across your face. He stood up and walked back towards the door.

“Because, if you don't. You won't make it out of here alive.” He snapped his fingers disappearing into the hallway. Two men came into the room and picked you up by the arms. You knew that there was no point in trying to fight the tight grip they had on your arms, they dragged you through the narrow hallway. Eventually bringing you into what seemed like a meat cellar. There were lots of ominous looking chains with hooked ends hanging down from the ceiling. A chair was sitting in the middle of the room and they roughly pushed you down into it.

“Now that we understand each other. I know lots about you, love.” The man circled you like a wolf. “You are Mr. Shelby’s right hand man, you keep all the books, oversee all the accounts, and you know about all his other side ventures. Some people say the only thing that's missing is a ring on your finger.”

“Some people are idiots. I'm a secretary, if they think that's a glamorous and powerful position, perhaps you should strive to entertain better company.” Despite your discomfort, you were pleased that your tone didn't show it. His soft hand met the side of your face again causing your cheek to sting. You wondered if those manicured hands had ever actually done this before.

“Shshsh - don't lie to me sweetheart.” he grabbed your jaw again, his voice made your stomach heave. “Perhaps you're too smart, you know too much. I'll make it nice and easy on you, narrow it down. All I really need to know about are the Walsh accounts, and the three bodies dumped in the cut last week.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course this would be about that. It’s not your problem that they’d given up their account and three of their so-called “best men” to try and move in on an arrangement Tommy had made with some French gang. They were lucky that Tommy left the body count at three.

“Why would I know about that? I didn’t take any calls about murdering folks, and I certainly didn't put it in his day schedule. Have you thought that perhaps you've taken the wrong woman?”

He gave you a questioning look.

“What’s your name?”

“Lizzie Stark” You lied easily. He strode out of the room angrily, you knew that it would be worse when he came back. But hopefully it bought you some time…. Hopefully someone was looking for you.

____________________________________

Tommy was also in a cellar.

“Where is she?” He delivered another blow to the man's stomach. The man's head rolled back, his eyes barely able to open. But still no information.

Arthur grabbed Tommy’s arm and he pulled him back into the hallway.

“You push him any further, you’ll kill him and we won't get her back.” Tommy had half a mind to punch him, but meeting his eyes he could see that he was right. Everyone was a mess over her being taken, Arthur wasn't going to let him ruin their chances. He tried to focus on his breathing, but his heart hasn't stopped racing and twisting since he knew you were gone. Suddenly Esme was there in the small hallway squaring up with him, her big brown eyes furious.

“Thomas let me see him!” Tommy thought about it for a second, John came and started pulling her down the hallway, both of them yelling. “Thomas please I might know him.” She called out over John’s protests.

“Alright. Alright! Go see him, Jesus.” He just wanted her to shut up. John gave him a peculiar look, but it wasn't as if she didn't know what the family did. Nothing in that room should surprise her, they both went back inside.

Tommy thought of you out there on your own and he put his head back to rest on the wall, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

For the first time since the war he prayed.

__________________________________________________

After what must have been an hour or so, the angry man came back into the room.

“Lizzy or Y/N it doesn't matter, my people are sure you know about the murders, and the deal with the French” He stepped closer to you. “Apparently I haven't been forceful enough. Stand up.”

Next thing you know, despite your protests they had you up in the air hanging from the cling by your tied hands like an animal. Your shoulders and wrists ached, but it didn't compare to the pain of his first landing on your stomach. Over and over, he punched you, stopping finally when you couldn't breathe anymore.

“Tell me!” He yelled. Air could barely reach your lungs, talking was out of the question. You couldn't even bring yourself to open your eyes, tears were streaming down your face. You were so angry, your body would be broken over what? Information about a certain British politician. You choked out an angry sob, what an embassarsingly stupid thing to die over. But you knew what the information was, and this was the only way to protect your family. If you let it slip they would be the ones to pay the price. Knowing that you were dying for them took the anger away, you could go at peace knowing you did right by the people that loved you.

He started again and you felt your ribs break, the feeling sent a spasm through your body. You knew now that this was how it was going to end. The pain was too much for you to last the whole night like this. And he didn't let up. Your dress was undone exposing your back, only for it to be met with a whip. Your brain was sliding all over the place, between strokes you suddenly thought back to Curly, grateful he never let anyone whip the horses.

Heat was sliding off your back and down your legs. The feeling of pain suddenly became slippery, coming and going as it pleased. Sensations were dulling. You opened your eyes and looked at the mess on the floor. That mess was yours, it was supposed to be kept inside you, it didn't belong on some asshole's dirty floor. You closed your eyes and knew that was the last time you’d open them.

__________________________________________________

“Tommy!” John called and he blew the door open.

“He says they have her in an abandoned slaughterhouse on the other side of town.” Before asking what the hell she did, he turned on his heel and ran down the hallway. He could hear his brother's footsteps behind him. They rushed into the car, and tore down the driveway.

“She was rushing around after Polly, getting the boys out on the street looking for her, when she realized where she’d seen him before. His wife is a regular at the bath house, he meets her out front. Brutal man, but a man with two kids. She threatened him and cut a deal he goes free with no damage to the kids.”

Tommy scoffed. Like that was going to happen, that man was as good as dead and so helped anyone that stood in his way. No one hurt you, and got to go on untouched.

“Trust me Tommy, I'm pretty sure she loves Y/N more than she loves me. As soon as she’s home, Esme says he’s dead.” John patted him on the back. “She’s called back to the house, Polly’s sent others to meet us there.”

__________________________________________________

You had retreated so far inside yourself you weren't really sure what they were doing now. It was a stupid thing to stress over, but you couldnt decide what you wanted your last thought to be about.

You thought of your parents, and how you grew up, them abandoning you at 16 over refusing a sex contract with a high up military officer, ruled them out. You thought of Polly, taking you in and teaching you how to be a woman, Arthur teaching you how to fight, John was always around to make you laugh or teach you how to gamble and drink. Esme becoming your closest friend, you doubted anyone would be able to find sisters as close as the two of you were. You thought about all of them grieving you, and you suddenly wished you’d said good night at the party, just one last round of hugs.

Then you thought about Tommy, he’d without a doubt be the last thing you’d want to see before you went. Those big eyes.

Shots rang out and you’d assumed they were for you, still your eyes stayed closed. You didn't feel like you’d been shot, but maybe that's how it was. You assumed you would start to peel out of this body, but the pain didn't leave, no white lights. Someone hauled your body down, your tired arms fell around someone's neck. Opening your eyes you saw those big blue eyes, wide with fear, you wanted to comfort him. You thanked whatever god let your brain conjure up this Tommy Shelby holding you tightly before you died.

“CALL A FOOKIN AMBULANCE” Arthur screamed, you realised you could hear again.

“Stay with me love. That’s it, come back.” Tommy coaxed you with such a soft tone. Pressing his forehead against yours, you took a deep breath that caused pain to radiate through your body only to realize that it smelled of cigarettes, whiskey, and Tommy.

This was real. They got you. A crushing force was applied to your back forcing you against his chest.

Suddenly you were aware of everything. Your legs had been cut and you were straddling his lap on the floor in a pool of blood, with your tied arms around his neck. John was putting all his strength on the wounds on your back. Arthur was swearing at someone loudly in the hallway, bodies lined the floor of the room. You heard Tommy praying in Romani, kissing the side of your head.

“I’m sorry” You choked out. “Mm gonna fall s’leep”

“Not yet, you stay with us, love” Tommy said in your ear. You’d hope his prayers were enough to hold you to this earth, but in case it didn't you still had enough inside yourself to tell him the truth.

“I didn't tell him anything.” You whispered

“I know love.” you swore you could feel his tears sliding into your hair.

“Tommy, I love you.” His arms tightened, and you felt him sob.

“Come on, none of that. Your going to be fucking fine. Esme will kill us all with Polly’s help if we let you slip away now.” John said pressing harder on your back causing the pain to spark. You closed your eyes and listened to Tommy’s soft words, grateful that Esme had taught you the language. You rested your head on his shoulder and enjoyed what you could feel of his embrace.

Everything after that was in and out. You remember people pulling you away from him, and John puking in the corner of the room. Tommy demanding he stay with you at all times. More wicked threats if anything happened to you. Then you were gone.

__________________________________________________

You woke up in a large bed. Tommy’s bed… You looked around without daring to move, you saw Polly by the fire preparing something.

“Tommy she’s up.” You wanted to ask her how she knew, without looking over. Tommy rose from the armchair beside her and he came to kneel beside the bed. You wanted him closer, badly enough that you forgot moving wasn't a good idea. You let out a moan of pain.

“Don’t move, love. Just stay still, it's alright your home now.” He kissed your forehead and you tried to blink the tears out of your eyes. He brushed the tears off your cheeks, looking you over.

“We have to change your bandages, do you want me to go to Esme instead?” You softly shook your head, gripping his hand with as much force as you could, you wanted him as close as possible. “It’s okay dove, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy picked you up out of the bed, and you tried not to wince, he carried you over to the edge of the tub in the bathroom. Sitting you down while holding you up, he started taking off your bandages. You suddenly wished this wasn't the first time he was undressing you, you were still too tired to be upset about it. Grateful for the slight brushes of his fingers reminding you that you’d survived.

“You sure you don't want me to wake Esme love?”

“No, I just want you.” Your voice cracked and your eyes were watery, your heart wrenching. He gave you another soft kiss on the forehead and got the rest of the bandages off. He ran the water for the bath and Polly came through dumping strange herbs in the water. She made him turn around while she got the rest of you undressed and settled into the water draping a towel over your front for some level of modesty.

You enjoyed the feeling of the water, the herbs making your head swim slightly. He sat on the floor, his arm came across your body, giving you something to lean against. You could feel the worry and pain in Polly’s voice as she talked about your wounds. She told you about your ribs, and that your back would probably scar but she’d hope she would be able to minimize it.

“Do you want the rest of the news now?” You could tell by the tone of her voice it was a woman’s topic.

“Go on” Your heart sank, you were never sure if you’d wanted kids but it sounds like someone had made the choice for you.

“They said your organs were pretty battered but there might be a chance you’d be able to have kids, but it's slim.” You felt her heart break for you. The words cut through you despite already knowing. You started sobbing, angry that your body had paid the price for such horrible secrets. Tommy pulled you to the edge of the tub, his big arms held you against his chest. Polly got up giving you some space. You cried and yelled about how you hoped the bastard rotted in hell. Tommy assured you that they ripped them all apart. The information had passed hands, people and repercussions should be dealt out by the end of the week clearing them of the situation.

“Y/N can you forgive me.” you pulled away to look into his eyes, never in your time with the Shelby’s had you seen him look so distressed.

“I don’t blame you. It was the right thing to do. Now he will lose the party, people won't get hurt.” It was hard to get the sentence out in between sobs.

“I love you.” He whispered, almost appearing alarmed by his own words. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know.” He kissed you and you cursed the fact that your body had limitations. The kiss was heavenly, and consuming. Better than the opium that was coursing through your veins. Polly came back clearing her throat as she entered the room. The kiss was broken, but the fire in his eyes assured you it would be one of many to come.

“Tommy Shelby, keep your hands off her. I expect a full recovery, I'm not having you jeopardizing it.”

You finished up in the bathroom and once fully bandaged you were back in his bed, wrapped in his arms.

Polly floated out of the room once you were content, reminding Tommy again that you were a work in process and high on opium.

You listened to his heart beating, and his chest rising and falling. He removed one of his arms to lit a cigarette.

“How long was I out?”

“Just a night and a day, they let you out once bandaging you up and controlling the bleeding, it's round 10pm now.”

You let out a hum.

“Tommy?” You wanted to know for sure that you were a proper thing now.

“Yes, love” He took a long drag of his cigarette.

“What are we?”

“Well you're mine now. No one’s going to touch you again, not while I'm alive.” His voice was dark and it made you crave him. He put out his cigarette, bringing his hand to gently cradle your face towards him.

“I mean it Y/N, no one else. Just me.”

“It's not like I wanted anyone else anyway.” you said softly, enjoying the flash of emotion on his face. He kissed you again softly, you wanted him so badly a whine escaped your throat.

“Shhh, love there's lots of time for that when you're better, and sober. You need to rest.” You saw the restraint in his eyes, but you also saw the dark circles under his eyes, and the paleness of his skin.

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

You tried to sit up and see that he was okay. He probably had to fight his way into the building, had he been injured? What about the others?

“None of that.” He snapped holding you in place. “Everyone is fine, I'm fine. You need to let us look after you this time. Alright?”

You nodded. And settled back in his arms letting out a breath of relief.

“Good, now stay like that and maybe we’ll both sleep through the night.” He got up and started getting ready for bed. Just as he finished arranging the blankets there was a knock at the door. Esme’s head poked through the door and you could feel Tommy’s reluctance to let her see you. She sat on the edge of the bed and held your hand tightly. You were happy to see her, but alarmed at her sickly appearance much like Tommy’s.

“Oh love, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you go home alone.” Tears streamed down her face.

“It's no one's fault.” You squeezed her hand. “It's okay, Polly said I’d be back at it in no time” You saw her eyes fall to your stomach, and more tears fell. She looked you over and quickly composed herself.

“You're right, you're going to be just fine. We can talk about everything else when you're up. You need to rest, I'm down the hall if you need anything just yell.” She leaned in and whispered in your ear “You're okay to stay with him yeah?” for the first time you felt a smile creep onto your face. “I'll take that as a yes then?”

You nodded at her and she gave you a wink. She kissed your cheek and gave you one last look over. The interaction reminded you that you’ve got a life to get back to. She quickly turned on Tommy.

“You look after her.” She gave him a fierce look. “And if you need anything, come get me. Both of you go to sleep.” She floated out of the room and Tommy got ready for bed. He crawled back into place holding you tightly.

“Tommy?” He hummed in response.

“Are you going to be here in the morning?” Normally the two of you would start at the shop around 5am.

“I’m not leaving your side till you can manage on your own, and shoot a gun. Till then you're stuck with me.” He gave you a light squeeze. You nuzzled into him and for a brief moment you wondered if perhaps you had died and gone to heaven.

Part 2: https://padfootdaredmetoo.tumblr.com/post/665512524672827392/can-you-please-write-a-part-two-to-the-tommy

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ⇘A Mess-Volume 2⇙ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

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 you’ll all enjoy! It’s 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 person’s blog!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Teasers ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

╰┈➤        “Must’ve needed that.” He smirked. “That attitude o’ yours was gettin’ kinda old.”

╰┈➤        “The hell’s goin’ on in here?” Daryl called into the disarray that was once his home. 

        “Daryl!” 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. 

        “I — She’s crazy.” Was all Eugene managed to say.

╰┈➤       “I just—“ He took a breath to collect his thoughts. “She don’t know about none of it, ya know? I just.. I don’t look at her and see somebody I let down.”

        “Is that what you see when you look at me?”

        “No.” He shook his head. His gums were raw from how hard he’d been chewing at them. “I see somebody I’m afraid o’ lettin’ down.”

╰┈➤       “Wasn’t what?” You snapped, turning to face him, eyes blazing. “Wasn’t what it looked like? Yeah, right. Heard that one before.”

        Your body was trembling with rage. Considering the events that led to your relationship with him in the first place, you were infuriated that he’d 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

Haven’t 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

We're In This Together

Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: Joel calms you down during a panic attack. 

Author’s Note: Despite being a reader insert, Joel's companion is an adult. As such, use of the term "babygirl" is a pet name, not an indication of age/someone who is underage. My first fic for The Last of Us so please be kind!

Reblogs are appreciated, comments are love💕

Warnings: anxiety, panic attack, mention of the infected, mention of weapon

The old weathervane above the dilapidated barn groaned outside your window, spinning forcefully with the gusting wind. The creaking sound was an unsettling reminder of the terrible shrieking you’d tried to put out of your mind. Removing the tattered gloves you wore and rubbing your hands together for warmth, you attempted to think of anything else. Closing your eyes tightly, you envisioned a crackling fire and hot tea with honey. Although you were good at imagining the things you’d come to live without, tonight was different. You couldn’t keep the fear at bay no matter how hard you tried, receiving no comfort from the cozy memories that usually calmed you.

A familiar tightness in your chest returned as you wondered how much longer you’d have to live like this, running from the infected and making a home wherever you found shelter. As you counted the days you'd already been looking for your family, your future unraveled before you along with any remaining fortitude. You looked around the weathered farmhouse where you found yourself tonight and wondered who had once called this place home. You shivered as you thought of those who were surely dead by now, allowing you to occupy their space because they no longer had need of it. The crushing guilt pressed into you until you felt suffocated by it.

Stop it, stop it! you chided yourself, banging your head against the peeling wallpaper. Get it together! you thought as you dug your heels into the floorboards, every muscle in your body tense as your stomach churned. You tried to stay strong and remember why you and Joel were still searching after all this time, but you couldn't concentrate. You began to shake as your worst fears replayed in your mind on constant loop and you couldn’t end it. The fit overtook you more quickly than usual, rapid breathing turning to dangerously shallow hyperventilation in seconds as the terror consumed you.

The sound of heavy footsteps outside your door had your heart racing even faster in seconds, threatening to tear from your chest. Your eyes darted up in time to glimpse Joel’s boots by the dilapidated wooden door and soon you spotted his jeans, moving toward you in a blur. The room began to spin as you heard the distant thud of his rucksack hitting the floor. “Y/n, it’s gonna be alright, I’m comin’” Joel called out, crossing the floor in long purposeful strides to reach you as quickly as possibly. He knew the signs of your panic attacks well by now. You were too dizzy to comprehend his words, only feeling the warmth of his hand on your cheek at first, bringing you around. His brown eyes studied you with deep concern. You hadn't been this bad since the night you met.

A year ago, he found you hidden away, clutching an old hunting knife of your father's. Separated from your family during evacuation, you were unsure how to navigate this new world, let alone an attack by several infected. He’d gotten to you just in time to save your life, but your conscious mind had slipped below the surface where he couldn't reach you. It wasn't until hours later through his calm demeanor and gentle voice that he was able to pry the weapon away. He held your hand, promising not to leave you, until you felt steady enough to tell him your name.

Taking up a place behind you now, Joel promised, “Nobody’s here but us, babygirl. You’re safe with me. I got you." He cradled your back to his front, legs and arms bracketing yours, securely holding you in place. Without the need for words, you felt his chest rise and fall against your back, urging you to adopt a similar rhythm for yourself. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, wanting the spinning to end. “It won’t stop, It won’t stop,” you panted, desperately clutching onto his hands, fingernails digging into his skin. Joel wished you never had to suffer like this again. He would have done anything to take the feeling of powerlessness from you.

“I got you. You're safe. I’m here no matter what, okay?” you heard him say in a soothing monotone, the rumble of his deep voice reverberating through you as you felt his beard rub against the top of your head. After a few mintutes, your heartbeat slowed it's pace. As the relief began to wash over you, the waiting tears silently escaped your lash line and slid down your cheeks.

Pulling away to search your eyes for understanding, Joel rubbed your arm gently asking, “Can you tell me what happened?”

You shook your head, unable to put your finger on what had triggered you. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it now,” he said, wiping the tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You should try to get some rest though. You wanna lie down for a little while?” he suggested. You nodded as you clung to his jacket. He slowly lowered you both to the ground, wrapping his arm around you so still felt connected to him. You breathed in the familiar scent of him as he stroked your hair gently. “I'm sorry,” you said, sniffling. 

“Shhh, you don’t have to do that,” he reminded you. No matter how much you apologized, Joel  told you you weren’t a burden and that knowledge made you feel secure with him, knowing that you didn’t owe him anything in return for his kindness. 

“Joel?” you asked in a shaky voice.

“Hmmm?” he grunted.

“Do you ever wish you were on your own?” you asked hesitantly. 

You felt his body go rigid for a moment. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, voice suddenly turning harsh. 

You slowly turned to look at him, noticing the deep furrow in his brow as he studied you. “I…I just thought…well...we might go our separate ways in the spring,” you stuttered, trying not to explain your feelings about how much better Joel might be without you. He must have thought it before, the freedom he'd have by himself with no one to care for or defend. If you said it first, maybe he wouldn’t have to propose the same plan to you one day when it all got to be too much for him.

You watched Joel’s face fall, a pained look of hurt and confusion settling over his handsome features. He cupped your face in his large, rough hands, staring into your eyes for a moment before he finally spoke. “Don’t you understand? I wouldn’t have been able to go on all this time without you. You’re the reason I’m still standin’, darlin’. I need you,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.  His thumb stroked your cheek gently as he added, “Remember what I told you the first night we met?”

Tears clouded your vision as he spoke those words to you. You nodded, thinking back to that fateful night. You laced your fingers through his as you answered with the words you’d never forget, “We’re in this together.”

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weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s 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 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s 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

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” 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 you’d 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 like—grime 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, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

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. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s 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.”

You can’t 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. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” 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. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s 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.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” 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 cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d 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 he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

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 he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s 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 wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re 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. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I 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.”

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. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” 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. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve 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. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. 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 together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” 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.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s 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,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all 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. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel 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.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d 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. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s 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.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s 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 you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” 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 bloom—the small, round table he’d 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. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

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, he’d 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 Frank’s 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.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” 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 heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

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, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

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?

“You look real nice,” 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 what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

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 didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s 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 you’d 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 he’d 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. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” 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 hadn’t 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 he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s 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 hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” 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. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” 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 Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” 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. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re 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,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d 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 it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s 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.

Joel’s 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. “You’re so soft,” 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.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

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 him—but 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 hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t 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 don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll 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. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

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.

“Well, well, well.”

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. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.