Joel Miller Fluff - Tumblr Posts

'somewhere to run' masterlist

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Series Summary: You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, angst, slow burn, smut (18+ MDNI), domestic violence (mostly just talked about or implied, nothing too descriptive, i will put a big warning on those chapters), implied SA (nothing descriptive), jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol use, drug use (not by Joel or reader), technical infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter but these are the biggies

Status: complete

Chapters:

1: a fresh start

2: book club

3: the statement

4: the carnival

5: first date

6: the confession

7: break the chain

8: restrained

9: three lies

10: austin

11: austin pt. 2

12: the trial pt. 1

13: the trial pt. 2

Epilogue

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:

Joel's Morning Routine

Police Station Layout

Love Languages

Joel's Likes & Dislikes

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.

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose. 

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now." 

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?" 

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reblogging because this series did not get as much attention as it should have

Forever Masterlist

Series summary: You and Joel have been dating for two years, after discovering that you're pregnant you arrange a moving date to go and live in a neighbouring house on Bill and Frank's territory, but then you bump into Marlene. She needs help escorting Ellie to the fireflies- you're more than happy to help. When it isn't as straight and the events of finding the cure don’t go as planned plans have to change. You're still committed, but life events get in the way. Your expanding family comes first, but the cure is equally important. However the big question is, will it happen? (This story follows the main events of the journey to create the cure, yet some bits are jumbled.)

Characters: Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Tommy Miller, Maria Miller, Bill, Frank and Marlene. Warnings and content: Post outbreak. Jackson!Joel. Smut. Family fluff. Pregnancy and childbirth. Sex, unprotected PinV, oral sex f receiving, vaginal fingering. Sex after childbirth (a reasonable amount of time dw) Porn with plot❤️ no use of y/n. Reader has a really cute relationship with Bill. Some upsetting scenes. Caring!Joel, Soft!Joel.

C1- Are Bill and Frank nice? C2- Changed forever C3- New beginnings

C4- Reunions

C5- Evermore

Extra Christmas chapter coming soon!

Gi 😍 I just now had time to read this! I love Joel and Baby Love so muuuuch!!!!

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Your Pussy is God”

A/N: happy international women’s day to you, my baby loves! Cooked y’all up something real good on this special day celebrating all women 💗 pornstar!joel is here to worship each and every one of you ;) big thank you to my baby love bug @strang3lov3 for this moodboard and @itsokbbygrl for doing a quick beta read!

~word count: 655~

Summary: your pussy is god, baby love

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: none, fluff, smut, domestic intimacy, established relationship, pussy eating, unprotected piv, body worship, pussy drunk Joel, filthy talk, language, soft vibes!, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

You feel the gentle scrape of his beard along your cheek bringing you back down to reality, ears ringing, breaths mingling as he presses a kiss to your lips, lashes fluttered, chests rising and falling in sync.

Sweat slicked, sticky skin adhered together like glue. He pulses inside of you, cock dully throbbing around your fluttering cunt.

There are no cameras this time. Just you and Joel in the shared comfort of the early morning where the sun has barely begun to rise along the horizon. The mourning dove coos outside of the open window, soft cream colored curtains billow in a cool breeze that kisses your exposed skin.

He lets out a grunt, low and deep as he slowly eases his cock from between your thighs. One strong arm loops around your waist, hugging you to him as his lips brush across your jaw. His movements are languid, no rush behind them as he trails his lips further, and further.

He kisses the column of your neck, tongue dragging across your pulse point, licking up your salt and perspiration, tasting the familiar tang on his tongue. He groans, nose pressing, dragging downwards.

“What’re you doing, baby?” You hum, lashes still fluttered shut as your hand slides upwards, resting along the back of his head and carding your fingers through his sweat stained curls.

“Tastin’ you, baby love.” He rasps, dragging his lips further to kiss the edge of your shoulder, between your breasts, tongue dragging down your sternum, stopping just above your belly button.

“Mmm.” You sigh contentedly, “continue.”

His lips curve upwards against your skin, grinning like a devil at your comment for him to continue. “Can I clean up the mess between your thighs? Let you ride my tongue out before the sun rises?” He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your hip, nibbling gently eliciting a giggle from you.

“Mhmmm. I would love that, baby. Clean up the mess that we made.” You correct him softly, peeking an eye open to watch him.

“You’re so pretty.” He coos, letting his freehand gently grasp your thigh and press it open as he sinks down further. “So pretty in this light, so soft, all mine.” He babbles, mind fuzzy and pussy drunk.

Your hips shift, making room to accommodate him comfortably. He wraps one arm around your stomach, gently pulling you down closer to his mouth while his freehand teases through your folds, spreading your inner lips open, messy and sticky with yours and his cum.

“Such a pretty little messy pussy, baby love.” He hums, smacking his lips together in anticipation because there isn’t a moment in the day where he’s not thinking of tasting you on his tongue. It’s his fuel, his energy, his life source—

“I love it when you talk about my pussy, Joel. Makes me feel so good inside that you think she’s so pretty.” You open both of your eyes, meeting his gaze just as he drags his tongue from your weeping hole, through your folds, and up to your clit, his eyes never leave yours. He gathers up your combined releases on his tongue, swallowing it down like he was quenched with thirst.

“Mmm. That’s what you deserve, baby love. To feel good, to feel loved, worshipped, admired, fuck—ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do to make you feel my love.” He makes your heart and pussy clench, and he doesn’t even have to try.

“Dude.” You giggle. “Who the fuck is cutting onions? How can you go from filthy to romantic in—oh” you sigh softly, head falling back against the roused pillows as his tongue flicks back and forth across your clit, lips wrapping around the nub, sucking gently with the intent to make you come undone all over again.

“Like this.” He chuckles, continuing his ministrations and taking you apart with his tongue, coaxing you to give him just a little bit more of his favorite meal.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

Please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

I’ve had this saved on my TBR list for awhile now. Did not disappoint! I really liked it! Was so sweet seeing Joel’s POV as well ❤️

i wanna be your lover | 70s!pornstar!joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female!reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings/rating: 18+ explicit. extended warnings will be given for each part.

main masterlist

ao3

playlist

part one: i wanna be your lover

part two: lover, lover, lover

part three: just crazy love

© shellshocklove

This was such a sweet read 🥰🥰🥰

finding light in darkness • pregnancy • post-outbreak • love and devotion • second chances • anxiety • heartwarming fluff • safe haven • soft!Joel • family • building a future together

1 keep you warm 2 never felt so loved 3 cravings 4 two hearts, one bond

♡ Knitting 101 with Joel Miller

Joel masterlist • main masterlist • AO3

Thank you all so much for following the journey of Joel and his pregnant partner! It's very special to me and I hope it can bring you some comfort, too. Love you guys! 🤍

Awwwwwww!!!!

This was so cute!! 😍🥰😍🥰

Thank you anon for this request!

Part Two of A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Now that your daughter is born, Joel is itching for another but you are still feeling a little discouraged with the way your body looks. He quickly puts an end to those feelings.

Warnings: language, fluff (absurd amounts), body worship, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!receiving), hand job, breastfeeding (does that need a warning? idk), discussions of pregnancy

WC: 3K

"I want another one, I really mean it."

You dropped your book in your lap and raised your eyebrows at Joel as he stepped into your bedroom and carefully shut the door behind him.

"Are you insane? We just had that one two months ago!" you reminded him.

He frowned at you like he was offended but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Don't call her that one, she's our daughter and her name is Emma," he scolded before yanking off his shirt and making a face when he realized he had spit up on the shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and tossed the covers off your legs. "Why don't we see how we adjust to being parents before we make any big decisions," you suggested as you walked toward your bathroom. Leaving the door open, you splashed water over your face with a little soap before brushing your teeth, all the while completely unaware of the way Joel was sitting on the edge of your bed staring at your bare legs underneath his old shirt, utterly entranced.

"C'mon, we make such perfect babies," he whined when you emerged, grabbing your arm and pulling you to stand between his legs. You smiled and played with the hair around his ear and he hummed, perfectly content, with his hands cupping the backs of your thighs.

"She is pretty perfect, isn't she?"

"Just like her mama," he replied, planting a kiss on your stomach, which was still a little swollen from giving birth. You grimaced and slipped out of his grasp, trying to hide your discomfort, but nothing ever got past him.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head and tucked yourself back under the covers, hiding your body from him. "My stomach..." you began, trailing off before picking up your book to distract yourself. Joel's face filled with worry and he quickly stood.

"Are you in pain? Doc said if there's any pain, you gotta -"

"It's not pain," you told him while pretending to focus on your book.

"Then what?"

Joel tossed his dirty shirt into the hamper before stepping out of his jeans. Your eyes drifted over his body while he put on his pajamas and your discomfort grew when you thought about how your own body now looked.

"It's just... it's not the same as before."

"What's not the same?" he asked, tugging a shirt over his head and padding over to his side of the bed.

"My stomach," you said quietly. "My hips. My thighs. Fucking... everything."

Joel paused, his expression softening as he watched you pretend like it didn't bother you as much as it did, but he saw the look in your eye and knew better.

"Baby," he whispered, leaning over and pinching your chin between his fingers so you would look at him. "You're perfect. Don't you dare for one second think badly 'bout the body that grew our little girl." He pressed a tender kiss against your lips before drawing back, his deep brown eyes flickering quickly between your own.

"I just don't feel like myself," you admitted, leaning into his touch.

"That's alright," he assured you, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You will again one day."

"You promise?" you asked, blinking away the tears that were beginning to build.

He smiled and nodded before kissing the tip of your nose. "'Course, I promise."

His hand slid around your waist and tugged you closer with his palm laid flat against your lower back. "Don't think I ever thanked you properly for givin' me our little girl," he murmured, slipping his tongue past your lips. You circled your arms around his neck and allowed yourself to relax into his hold. "Did so fuckin' good, darlin', y'know that?" he whispered in between kisses. "So fuckin' brave, so strong..." His hand drifted further down to squeeze your ass and you giggled. "Can I show you how thankful I am? Will you let me? Hm?"

"Joel," you mumbled when his mouth grazed over your throat. "We can't, you know that."

He hummed and shifted around so your back was pressed against your headboard. "Oh, I know. But there's one thing I can do."

He shimmied down the mattress until his shoulders were wedged between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses all down your front, through your shirt. When he reached the apex of your thighs he glanced up at you for permission. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded and his face lit up before hooking his fingers around your underwear and peeling them off. Much to your relief, he didn't ask to remove your shirt, and it wouldn't be until much later you would realize he did it for your benefit; so you would feel comfortable and relaxed.

At first, you were nervous, knowing full well you likely didn't look the same down there either, but when you heard a deep groan rumble through his chest before licking a lazy stripe through your folds, your fears began to melt away.

You sighed and leaned back into the pillows, letting your legs fall open and your eyes slide shut while he lapped slowly at your pussy with the occasional moan. His mouth felt so fucking good and his beard burned the insides of your thighs just right that you could feel yourself floating away.

"God, Joel," you rasped. Your fingers began to twist around his curls and he smiled because he could feel your tension and stress melting away under his tongue.

"Taste so good, baby," he said, voice all thick and gravelly. The sound sent a tremor through your body and your mouth fell open when he flattened his tongue over your clit in fast circles. You accidentally pulled too roughly on his hair and he groaned, eyelids fluttering while he pressed his hips into the mattress, seeking just a sliver of relief.

He had to keep reminding himself not to slip his tongue or fingers inside you, the doctor's warning to wait echoing somewhere in the back of his mind and he would never, ever do anything to potentially cause you harm. All he wanted to do, all he wanted to ever do was make you feel good. But he knew things would be different for a while, and that was okay. Different didn't mean worse. Different just meant... different.

"More," you moaned, hips bucking upwards. His tongue moved faster over your clit until his eyes flashed open and caught you watching him with your chest heaving and your gaze dark with desire. He smirked before puckering his lips and latching onto your clit, suckling and flicking the tip of his tongue until you were a writhing mess under him. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans and it only encouraged him to eat at you faster, grab at your thighs tighter, rut his hips harder until your body finally tensed and stilled while your climax ripped through you.

He pulled away from you with a gasp, kneeling before you with his cock impossibly hard as he watched you catch your breath. Your limbs were all loose and weak and your legs were spread wide, shiny with your arousal. Your eyes flickered down to the bulge in his pants and you scrambled up, joining him in the center of the bed on your knees as you reached for the waistband of his pajama pants.

"No, sweetheart, that's not -"

"I know," you said, cutting him off and pushing his pants down to his mid-thigh. Your lips latched onto his while your fingers curled around his cock, setting a quick pace straight away. He groaned into your mouth and cupped your face, thrusting into your hand, both of you on your knees for each other with your legs trembling.

"Feel what you do to me, little mama?" he growled as he nipped and bit at your chin. "Ain't nothin' ever gonna change that. Y'hear me?"

You nodded and moved your wrist even faster between you. You could feel his stomach tense against your forearm and you smirked to yourself, knowing he was just seconds away.

"So hard for me, Joel," you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. "Can't wait til you can fuck me again. Can't wait to feel you inside me... god, you always feel so good."

He whined and grabbed ahold of your shoulder so he could steady himself. His gasp morphed into a groan against your skin when he came. His spend trickled down your hand, all warm and sticky, then his body sagged with relief.

"Christ," he mumbled weakly before looking down at the mess between your bodies.

"Hold on," you told him, sliding off the bed so you could snatch your underwear from the ground and rinse your hand off in the sink before bringing back a wet washcloth he could clean up with.

"Thank you, darlin'," he said, swiping at his lower abdomen. Once he felt he was clean enough, he tossed the rag on top of his shirt in the hamper and collapsed next to you in bed with a heavy sigh. "Didn't have to do that, y'know."

"I know," you replied, turning on your side and tossing your leg over his waist. You nuzzled into his side and smiled when he pulled you closer. You laid together quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet before Emma woke up demanding milk and a change.

"You take as long as you need, baby," Joel said, breaking the silence. You tilted your head up to look at him questioningly. "Til you feel like yourself again," he explained, then began to lovingly rub his thumb over your shoulder. "Even when the doc gives us the all clear, I want you to know I wanna wait til you're ready, alright? Just know I love you no matter what."

You smiled and pressed a kiss against his chest, unable to respond with the right words to express how happy he made you and how loved you felt.

"So another one, huh?" you asked. He grinned and nodded excitedly.

"Emma told me today she wants a sister."

"She told you?" you giggled.

"Yep. Was talkin' 'bout it before bed. Told her what a great job her mama did makin' her and how much fun it'd be to have a little brother or sister. And, y'know," he said with a dramatic sigh. "She wasn't on board at first, either, but I told her there's plenty of love to go 'round, that she don't need to be so greedy."

"Who woulda thought," you teased, poking him in the chest. "Joel Miller has a certified case of baby fever."

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "It's all your fault. You're the one who started all this."

"I know. Just couldn't help myself, I guess. Now look at us."

Joel turned onto his side and pulled you flush against his chest. "Yeah, now look at us." He leaned down and captured your lips with his, cupping your face gently and taking your breath away. "Happy little family," he added once he pulled back, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek as he gazed down at you adoringly.

You bit your lip and gave him a sly look. "We did have a lot of fun trying, didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah," he quickly agreed. "I do miss you knockin' down my door lookin' for me to fill you up all nice 'n good. Made me feel like a prize winnin' bull, the way you were clamorin' to take a ride."

You gave him a mock look of horror and slapped his chest, making him laugh so deep, you could feel it.

"I was not clamoring!"

"Oh, like hell you weren't!" he said, making you both laugh with how passionate he was about it. His arm wrapped around your waist so he could tug you against his hips. "You couldn't get enough. Damn near hauled me outta the bar by my collar one night, you remember that?"

You could feel your face grow hot and your laughter quickly died down at the mention of that night. Joel looked at you curiously, wondering what he said wrong.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked meekly.

He nodded slowly with one eyebrow raised.

"That night at the bar," you began, dropping your eyes to fixate on a shirt stain. "I maybe wasn't..."

Joel had a feeling he knew where you were going with it but he couldn't help himself, he just had to hear it.

"What, baby?"

You groaned and flipped onto your back so you could stare at the ceiling when you said, "I maybe wasn't ovulating that day."

A huge grin broke out across his face and he rolled on top of you, caging you in. "I fuckin' knew it! That new girl was talkin' to me and all the sudden you came outta nowhere sayin' you needed help with your goddamn plumbing."

Admittedly, the excuse you had used was a little too on the nose, but you brushed it off.

"Yeah, okay, fine," you said, reaching around behind him to squeeze his ass. "So maybe I didn't want anyone messing with my bull."

He groaned and followed it up with a terrible impression of a bull's snort before diving into the crook of your neck, sending you into a fit of giggles.

"Makes sense now," he mumbled against your skin. "You were so fuckin' greedy that night, had my head spinnin' like a goddamn top the next day."

"Yeah, that was a good night, wasn't it?" you agreed, tilting your head back so he could access your neck a little easier. He hummed and latched onto a spot behind your ear, causing warmth to pool low in your belly once again. When you lifted your hips to grind against his thigh, he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Easy, darlin'," he warned.

"I know, I just miss you so much," you whimpered, grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up so you could kiss him. And just when his tongue dove into your mouth and his fingers began to rub lightly at the outside of your underwear, a familiar cry rang out from the bedroom across the hall.

"I got it," he said immediately, but you shook your head.

"She's hungry, I gotta do it," you told him. He relented and rolled back to his side of the bed so you could get up and hurry into Emma's room.

You shushed her as you picked her up carefully from her crib, swaying your body back and forth as you walked to the rocking chair. You lifted your shirt for her and Emma instantly quieted down when she latched onto your breast. Once silence filled the air again, you leaned back into the chair and sighed. Knowing full well you would be stuck in her room for the next half an hour, at least, you plucked a pillow and blanket from the floor with your free hand and maneuvered them around yourself to get more comfortable. Once you were satisfied, you glanced down at your daughter and smiled when you caught her watching you intently with very big, serious brown eyes that were the spitting image of her father's.

"So what do you think, sweet girl?" you murmured softly, rocking back and forth in the chair. "You talking to your daddy about a little sibling behind my back? I thought we were a team, you're supposed to be on my side."

All you got in return was a little gurgle but she appeared to be listening and enjoying the vibration from your voice, so you kept talking.

"I don't know, maybe it's not a bad idea," you told her. "I think I just get a little nervous because it took so long to have you, I get worried it might be next to impossible again."

Her eyes began to droop a little and you smiled.

"Then again, you are pretty perfect. And perfection takes time. Besides," you lowered your voice just in case Joel could hear, "I don't think your daddy would mind if it took a little while again."

When Emma fell asleep with that ridiculous milk-drunk expression you had grown to love so much, you quietly changed her and tucked her back into bed before tiptoeing out of her room and back across the hall.

Your bedside lamp was still on but Joel had fallen asleep sitting up with his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a book dangling from his hand. You smiled and slipped the book away, lying it face down and open on his bedside table before carefully removing his glasses.

"What're you doin'?" he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"You're asleep," you whispered before turning out your light and slipping under the sheets.

"No, I ain't. Was just restin' my eyes til you got back."

"Uh huh," you teased. When he laid down flat, he held out an arm for you and you quickly nuzzled into his side with your own arm wrapping loosely around his waist. You took a deep breath, inhaling his distinct and comforting scent before closing your eyes.

After a few quiet moments where you thought he had fallen back sleep, he surprised you by speaking again.

"So, she convince you to have another?"

You grinned and burrowed your face deeper into his side. "Maybe."

He made a pleased noise and kissed the top of your head.

"She made a good argument," you said.

"That she did."

You let the silence envelop you for another moment before adding, "Maybe in a few months we can give it a try. No pressure this time, just... if it happens, it happens."

"That sounds like a plan to me," Joel said happily.

And although you had just said you didn't want to put too much pressure on it, you fell asleep dreaming up baby names, anyway.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

I just…. I never knew how much I need this until you blessed us all with it! 🫠🫠🫠

First time writing Joel too?! YOU KILLED IT!!!!

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

❤️😍🥰

Thank you for your help on this!!! I too love a sassy Joel 😅

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

I’m so glad you like it! 🥰🥰🥰

I too want Joel to get me pregnant

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

Aww! Thank you for reading and sharing! ❤️❤️

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

This is so stinkin’ sweeeeeeet 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Goodnight Kiss

joel miller x f!reader

Joel’s a good dad. You try to remind him.

warnings/tags: MDNI. pre/no-outbreak!joel miller. babysitter!reader. joel is in his 30s but sarah is a toddler because i said so. reader is in her last year of college; do with that what you will. sickening fluff. some borderline impure thoughts. self-depreciation. praise/comfort. intimacy. single girl dad!joel. overworked man finds solace in a sweet girl. not beta'd & hardly proofread. wc: 1.5k

main masterlist

His keys jingle in the door lock an hour after your shift was intended to end.

You don’t mind. You’re used to this routine by now. He still has the courtesy to text you that he’ll be running late, and he always pays a little extra for the additional hours. You’re only here for the summer, and every penny helps grow the savings fund you’ve been eagerly building before entering the less-than-reliable job market next year.

There is also the matter of your employer himself, and knowing that there are far more deplorable summer jobs than babysitting his sweet daughter.

You’re certain of it, in fact. Because you’ve never known a man quite like Joel Miller.

He’s the most hardworking person you’ve ever met, not only providing for his daughter and himself, but his brother. You’ve only seen Tommy a handful of times, and despite his flaws, Joel remains hopeful that his intervention will prompt a turnaround.

He signs Sarah up for anything and everything she’s willing to try, and somehow, finds a way to get her there on time. He fixes the panels on his elderly neighbor's roof before they’ve even noticed one is loose. Sometimes, he’ll snatch your keys off the counter when he gets home at a reasonable time and tells you to stay put while he fills up your tank because gas ain’t an expense you needa worry about right now.

He’s overworked, underpaid, and still finds it in himself to be kind.

You tuck your bookmark into the pages sprawled out across your lap, rising from the couch to greet him. Sarah’s been in bed since seven, and while Joel has made it clear you’re welcome to the fridge or the TV, you always hesitate to overstep.

You grab your tote off the armrest, slinging it over your shoulder and sliding your book inside before pattering towards the front hallway.

“Hey,” you call softly. He’s toeing off his boots and tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. He gives you a tired, apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough from a long day's work. The low vibration sends goosebumps up your arms which you nonchalantly rub away, hoping he won’t notice.

Joel Miller is also impeccably handsome. Another fine quality you’re certain he fails to notice.

“M’so sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to keep doin’ this to ya. The plumbing guys are not cooperatin’, so I—”

“Joel, it’s fine.” You take another step toward him, the golden porch light illuminating his features through the front window. You tilt your head at him, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ve got nowhere else to be. And besides, I love Sarah. She's such a good kid.”

You watch the rigidity in his shoulders fall, if only a little. He’s looking you over as if he’s the child, and he’s just been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. He shakes his head, muttering something discouraging under his breath. You have the great urge to soothe him.

The feeling is not new nor unfamiliar, but you’re tentative with the actions it threatens to elicit. A million grey lines begging to be crossed.

“Was hopin’ to be back in time to tuck her in,” he sighs, placing a hand on his hip while the other rubs at the tension in his brow. “Been too long since I have.”

You can’t help but smile. Not at the berating of himself or his clear display of stress, but because it’s endearing how much he cares. How blatant his love for his daughter is, whether she’s in the room or not.

“Well, I made sure to give her an extra kiss goodnight to make up for it.”

When he looks at you again, it’s with that same sort of sad, guilt-ridden smile. His appreciation for you cannot make up for the condemnation of himself, and while this would not be the first time Joel Miller confided in you about his shortcomings, you can sense tonight weighs heavier than most.

“Just feel like m’not… doin’ enough, I dunno.” His shoulders rise and fall defeatedly, and he’s shaking his head as if to further scold himself. “Worried she’s gonna grow up to resent me or somethin.’”

That strikes a nerve. You suffocate the strap of your bag with your grip, an attempt to redirect some of the outrage that fills you.

How could he even think such a thing? You know Joel’s a smart man, he can’t possibly be so blind to the things other children lack from their parents—none of which he ever falters on.

Your brows knit low over your eyes, serious. “She will not resent you, Joel. She adores you.” You make a point of emphasis; you want him to hear you, loud and clear. Know that there are things you see from the outside that he doesn’t, that a four-year-old may be far more perceptive than he gives her credit for.

“She talks about you all day,” you continue, and that seems to get his attention. Your heart aches at the tired, hopeful look in his eyes. You wish you could alleviate some of the exhaustion. “Everything we do is can’t wait to show Papa this, or we gotta tell Papa that.”

He chuckles a little, likely somewhat due to your poor impression of the toddler's voice, but you still aren’t convinced your words have sunk in.

You do something a bit uncharacteristic, then. You reach out, take another step forward, and place an honest hand on his forearm. The muscle below your touch is firm and warm, but his eyes that follow the path of your fingers are wildly more intense.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him, voice dropping to a whisper. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

He blinks, and when he peers at you now, there’s a glint of something different. You’ve seen it before maybe a handful of times, but it’s always fleeting. A shared understanding that whatever it is, there’s never been any time to acknowledge it.

But this time, it lingers. It festers between your bodies that, only now, do you notice how close they have drifted in the already cramped entryway. Who shifted first, or when, matters very little with Joel’s eyes on you, gentle and focused. You see them flicker, once to your hand that still rests upon his skin, another to your eyes, and then your lips. There’s the sound of crickets in the night. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and dust. The sight of his face, all sharp edges and scattered freckles and a furrowed brow, but his eyes. In all the time you’ve know him, they’ve always remained kind.

Your breath catches in your throat when he finally leans in.

He doesn’t reach for you. Instead, he flushes his chest against yours and lets the weight of his lips drive the kiss. Your fingers dig into his forearm for purchase. You can’t say you’re caught off guard, though pleasantly surprised.

There’s an innocence to it, tender and sweet. He lingers for a few long beats, never pushing further than the plush of his lips delicately upon yours, and then releases.

You don’t open your eyes right away, selfishly idling in the newfound thrill a beat longer. You can still taste him—coffee, mint, something sweet. He remains close; you still feel the brush of his lips, the tip of his nose bumping yours, the fanning of his breath.

“M’sorry…” he starts to mutter, and you can tell he’s retracting. Your eyes fly open and your grip on him tightens.

“No, don’t be.”

You have difficulty finding any trace of guilt in his expression, a fact that turns your stomach. An anxious thrill, the precipice of something.

His tongue traces his bottom lip as if he’s trying to salvage another drop of you. A somewhat devious grin breaks out at the corners.

“Had to put it somewhere, I guess.”

You’re all soft chuckles and sheepish smiles after that, and you feel your cheeks heat up with an array of excitement and nervousness. It was one thing to endure Joel Miller and his charm without the prospect of more, but now?

You aren’t sure how you can possibly contain yourself.

A million questions rattle through your mind as you stare at one another, but you notice the time on the wall clock behind him. You’re no stranger to the bags under his eyes, the paleness on his cheeks after a long day, so you set your selfishness aside. After all, you’ll be back in this very spot in a handful of hours.

You swallow hard, slowly releasing his forearm, though your palm aches to remain.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He isn’t subtle about his hesitation. His eyes do an elongated once over of you before he shakes his head, and bites at his lower lip to prevent another laugh from escaping. You have half the mind to yank him back to you by the t-shirt, but digress when he steps around and opens the door for you.

You’re slow in your exit, doing a full one-eighty once your feet are planted on the porch to flash him one more dazzling smile.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You see the dimples cave in his cheek before he quietly closes the door.

“Night, darlin’.”

You can’t seem to fall asleep fast enough.

follow @cavillscurlsupdates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I update!

Joel and Preggo wife chillin at home where Joel is meandering around the kitchen. And you're sitting in your big chair eying him suspiciously. The microwave chimes off and Joel retrives his little cup. Stirring his fork in the dry mix, he blows on the contents.

Youre leaning very far over your chair to unsuccessfully get a glimpse at the soon-to-be-yours food in his hands.

"What are you making?" You ask curiously.

"Mac and cheese," he says calmly, looking down.

"And you aren't gonna offer me any?"

"Oh," Joel looks over to you: his a little angry pregnant gremlin. How stupid of him not to offer. His poor pregnant wife could smell anything over a mile away, and hes just ignornantly in his own world helping himself. "Sorry, would you like some?"

You fold your arms attitudinally and shift forward away from him. "No."

He shrugs. "Ok."

Joel's taken his seat on the couch opposite, fanning cool breath over his Mac and cheese. His fork is 1 cm from his open mouth when you interrupt: "Well....okay yes i'll just have one bite of yours."

He pauses, the steam teasing his tongue. "Ah ok." Getting up, he hands you the cup and fork.

"Ya bastard," you mumble clearly.

You takes one bite, humming contently as the cheesey noodley highly processed gooey mess fills your buds and travels warmly to your belly. Joel reaches for the cup but you take another forkfull. Then you continue to mix and eat it, absorbed in the tv while Joel just stands there, his mac and cheese cup getting emptier and emptier.

Despite his hovering, he quickly accepts he's not getting it back and goes to make another for himself.

When you finish and set it down on the table with a satisfied "ahhhh", rubbing your pregnant belly, Joel grins.

"Good?"

"Meh. Was just ok."

You don't see him frowning, looking back at the empty cabinet with no more Mac and cheese.

Stirring Love

Pairing; Joel Miller x F!reader

Word Count; 269

A/N; soooo this is my first storyy! this is all fluff so no warnings on this. i hope you like this post and feel free to add things I could work on!

—————————-︵‿୨♡୧‿︵—————————

The night before, you barely got any sleep. You woke up at 2 and then again at 2:15. Your sleep schedule was all over the place. Maybe your stomach just wasn’t letting you sleep, right? It didn’t matter anyway. You were hungry but didn’t want to wake up Joel to help you sleep.

You slowly crept out of bed, being careful not to step on any creaky floorboards as you tiptoed through the house. As you reached the kitchen you started to boil some water, getting all the ingredients to make your favorite dish, spaghetti. Half-lidded eyes watching as the water was starting to bubble, you smelt something familiar. Joel. His arms loosely wrapped around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder. He could instantly make your mood better, no matter how tired or upset you were. 

Joel lifted his head tiredly and looked into your eyes, “Why are you up??” He grumbled. Your eyes will land on his messy bedhead hair and tired gaze. You smiled fondly at him, “I was hungry. Do you want some or are you too tired?” you tease and gently kiss his forehead. Joel shook his head slowly and placed his forehead back on your shoulder, mumbling. “M’ too tired..” He groans, which makes you let out a quiet laugh. 

Throughout the whole time you make spaghetti and even eat it he’ll be clinging onto your waist, talking to you tiredly. Letting out “I love yous” or whispers of “you're so beautiful.”  And God, did you love nights like this. Just you, him, and the sound of crickets chirping outside your house.

Masterlist

Hiii! this is my official masterlist. I hope you guys enjoy my stories!

more about me

—————————-︵‿୨♡୧‿︵—————————

Joel Miller fics !

Our Spot; Joel Miller x F!reader | Smut

Stirring Love; Joel Miller x F!reader | Fluff

Mike Schmidt fics !

The Surprise; Mike Schmidt x F!reader | coming soon…

AHHHHHHHHHH I JUST FINISHED IT ITS SO FUCKING GOOD THE CLIFFHANGER HOW COULD YOU?!

Apothecary - Chapter Two

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

everyone's got something to say about her, and Joel doesn't know what to make of it. when he returns the favor he owes her, he tries to get some answers up in the mountains and away from the wagging tongues of Jackson.

warnings | 18+ angst, mentions of death, spooky-ooky vibes, people being superstitious dickheads

a/n | thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! i just got so excited i couldn't help but write the second part :) keep letting me know what you think, my inbox is always open and i love to hear from you!

.................................

“My son had a cough since he was two years old. She cured it with whatever she keeps bubbling on that stove of hers.”

“I had a rash that just wouldn’t go away. She gave me a balm that cleared it right up. A godsend, really.”

“Wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t nursed me back to health with all those herbs and plants she tends to.” 

“She talks to animals. Calmed a bucking colt with a whisper– I saw it myself!”

“I heard that infected don’t even notice her. Just walk right past her. That ain’t human, if you ask me.”

“That cat of hers spies on people and brings all their secrets back to her. You can’t tell me that’s a normal cat, not with the way it stares at folks.”

“Some of the women say they’ve seen her out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in her backyard whenever it’s a full moon.”

“I don’t know about dancing naked, but I have seen some strange lights coming from her shop on my way home from the Tipsy Bison. Lord knows what she gets up to in there.”

“She curses men. Lures them up into the mountains and puts them under her spell. But they always end up dead.”

“Dead?”

“As a doornail. It ain’t a coincidence that any man that crosses paths with her seems to wind up with one really unlucky patrol shift. Luck’s got nothing to do with it, lemme tell you.” 

Even though Tommy told him to forget about it, Joel’s been doing a bit of recon, asking people around town about her, and every new anecdote only further confuses him. It seems like everyone’s got some sort of opinion about the resident witch.

It has shocked him, really, how openly folks call her that. Even the ones that speak highly of her. He had asked Ellie about what she had heard one day after she came home from her classes at the community school. She had shrugged, a knowing grin on her face

“Well, she sure helped me out, old man. But yeah, my friends say their moms call her a lot worse names than witch. Personally, I think it’s fucking cool. D’you think she can fly around on a broom like in the movies?” Joel had not been particularly amused by that question.

He’s not sure what to make of any of it. Some people call her a saint. Others call her the devil incarnate. But there does seem to be a general consensus that any man that sets her in his sights is doomed to meet a timely demise.

It’s been two weeks since he saw her at the town market, and he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of her since. According to Maria, she’s been busy with a flare-up of some sort of stomach bug in the community, making house calls and – Joel supposes – working her magic. 

He can’t figure out why he even cares. After all, he’s only met the woman once. But he can’t seem to shake her out of his thoughts, replaying their meeting over and over in his head, particularly the moment she had said Sarah’s name with such certainty.

He finds himself rolling all this over in his mind most nights, sitting out on his front porch as the summer sun turns to thick liquid over the mountains. It’s in such a position that he finally sees her again, approaching his house with a tired smile on her face.

“Hey there, stranger.” She walks up the first step to his porch, leaning against the wooden beam as she speaks. He can’t help the way his eyes trail over her, a pair of coveralls like the kind mechanics used to wear pulled distractingly taut around the swell of her hips and a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, the tops of jars and bottles peeking out of it. When his eyes finally slip back up to her face, the quirk of her eyebrows lets him know that she totally clocked him checking her out, and he has to clear his throat, swallowing his embarrassment before he responds.

“Um, hey– hi. I, uh, haven’t seen you around lately.” She tilts her head at him, smile simmering down to a crooked smirk.

“I’ve been a little busy with all the– y’know, vomiting and diarrhea around town. But I think folks are finally out of the woods now.” Joel has to wonder to himself how she can still manage to look pretty while talking about vomiting and diarrhea.

“How exactly do you help– with that?” Her smile broadens.

“For the stuff coming out the top end, peppermint oil mostly. Ginger is king, but I’ve only got so much of it cultivating at the shop. For the problem down below, you just gotta push fluids and tell them it’ll pass.” 

“Can I ask– how do you know this stuff?” 

“Most of what I know comes from my mom. She was a lady of the plants, knew just about everything about anything that grows.” Fondness laces through her words, a soft smile as she tells him this, and he finds himself mirroring her expression.

“Lady of the plants– that’s a new one to me.” 

“Well, it’s better than witch, right?” Joel’s smile falls, but she just laughs.

“So I take it you’ve heard the rumors about me?” He’s not sure how to respond, a thickness settling in his throat and ice prickling the back of his neck. His voice comes out a bit hoarse when he does finally answer.

“Heard a lot of things about you. Not really sure what to believe though.” Her smile screws up at that, eyes crinkling as she looks at him.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re wondering then? Get it straight from the source.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the unbuttoned snaps of her coveralls splaying open to reveal the edge of a white tank-top, the suggestion of cleavage drawing Joel’s eyes before he can help it. He swallows hard, eyes darting back up to hers.

“Is it– I mean– are you?”

“Am I what?” She wants to hear him say it, he can tell by the ghosting curve of her lips. The word feels silly coming out of his mouth.

“Are you a– a witch?” Her smile goes practically radioactive at that, big and bright as she throws her head back in a laugh. She looks back at him, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah, certified. Got the black cat to prove it and everything.” As if on cue, Stevie jumps up onto the railing of the porch, making Joel jump in his seat. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, Stevie nuzzling against her arm that’s wrapped around the porch beam. Joel huffs.

“Look, it seems like everyone’s got something to say about you. But I’m not the kind of guy to buy into a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She hums at that.

“Oh, no? What kind of guy are you then, Joel?” 

“The kind that likes to work things out for himself.” 

“Is that what this is? You working me out?” 

“Sure am trying to.” She sucks her teeth, squinting at him.

“And?” Joel sighs.

“And– I’m thinking it’s gonna take me a while to reach any kind of conclusion.” She nods lightly at that, smiling at Stevie as scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Hmm, alright. You let me know when you reach your conclusion then.” A thick blink of silence falls between them, and Joel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers, only breaking when she lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t just come over here to give you a hard time. Was actually hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me.” He sits up a little straighter at that, nodding.

“Alright, when did you wanna go out– I mean– not– go out– like– not like a–” She laughs, silencing his floundering. 

“I know what you meant. And I was thinking the end of this week? Do you have time on Friday?” 

“Uh-huh, yep. That’s my day off.” Her face falls.

“Oh, I don’t wanna take up your day off, I’m–”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to help, really.” Her frown softens into a suggestion of a smile, and she nods.

“Well, alright. Thank you, Joel. You good to meet at the gates that morning?” 

“I’ll be there, darlin. Sounds like a plan.” She grins.

“Until then, Joel.” She turns, hopping down from the porch step, before glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m not gonna curse you. Not yet at least.” It’s so unexpected, he ends up choking on an inhale, but his coughing doesn’t drown out the sound of her laugh as she slinks away from his house. He’s so busy watching her saunter off that he doesn’t notice the cat jumping down from the railing, startling him when she starts twining between his legs. Stevie looks up at him, yellow eyes unblinking, as if she’s expecting something from him. He tentatively leans forward, holding out his open hand which the cat sniffs at before nudging her head into his palm, a low purr vibrating through her body. 

“You gonna go tell her all my secrets, Stevie?” The cat looks up at him, head tilted. A little too human-like for Joel’s taste. She lets out a small mrrp, before going back to twining between his legs, sleek spine arching up into Joel’s hand. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she pads off down the steps of his porch and out into the night. 

…

“Rumor has it you’re helping a certain lady out with some work up in the mountains tomorrow.” Joel huffs at his brother’s cocked eyebrow and crooked smirk.  He takes a sharp swig of his drink before responding.

“Owe her a favor, that's all. And before you tell me I’m not gonna come back alive, I’ve already heard that from four other people this week.” That gets a laugh out of Tommy, his eyes glancing around the bar before focusing back on Joel. 

“Nah, you’ll come back alive. It’s the days after when they always end up dead.” 

“You serious?” Tommy shrugs.

“There’s been a couple of guys, sure. But if you ask me, that has more to do with the stories people believe than it does with her. What we believe, we create, brother. The mind is a powerful thing.” He punctuates his words with a tap of his fingers to his temple. Joel grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, wise ass. But you’re telling me there really have been men who’ve–”

“It’s all coincidence, Joel. Like I said, there have been a few guys who started chasing after her. Went up into the mountains with her, y’know, all romantic and shit. And then, well, it seems like every time, only a few days later, they wound up dead. But in every instance, it was a bad patrol shift that got them. S’just coincidence that it happened after they got with her.”

“How many coincidences?” Tommy sighs.

“Four. In the last four years or so.” Joel feels his brows lift at that.

“That’s a lot of fucking coincidences, Tommy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Look, folks always talk about how horrible it is that all these men died. And it is. But no one thinks to mention what that must have done to her. To like someone? Hell, maybe even love someone? And then not only have them taken away from you, but to then be blamed for it too? It’s fucking atrocious, man.” When Tommy finishes speaking, silence falls between them, Joel a bit stunned by the clear compassion Tommy speaks with about her.

“Why d’you even care? Why not join the crowd, huh?” Tommy frowns at that, twirling his liquor in his glass rather than looking at his brother.

“I didn’t tell you this– I mean, why would I? But, Maria had a pretty difficult pregnancy.” He takes a sharp inhale before continuing to speak.

“We weren’t sure if– if the baby– if we were gonna be ok. And she was there for us, through it all.” Joel can see the tears pooling in his brother’s eyes, glinting in the low light of the bar when he finally looks at him.

“I don’t know if we’d have our boy today if it hadn’t been for her. So yeah, I care about her. And I’ll side with her every time. And most folks will too, when push comes to shove. She’s done a lot for this community. But it’s easy to spread poison behind people’s backs. So that’s what they do.” Tommy sits back on his stool, sighing deeply.

“Suppose a lot of the men see her as a challenge, y’know? Steal a cursed kiss and live to tell the tale, or some bullshit like that. And the women see the men pining after her, and they don’t like that one bit. Either way, they talk, way more than they should.” Tommy throws back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn. Joel, meanwhile, is still trying to process everything his brother just told him.

“So should I tell the kid to start planning my funeral, or what?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’re too much of a stubborn ass to let a rinky-dink curse sway you. Besides, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Joel squints at his brother.

“Why’s that?” 

“You said you’re just doing a favor for her. She might not even like you enough to curse you, brother.”

…

Joel doesn’t sleep at all that night. His mind works over what Tommy told him again and again, trying to reach some sort of conclusion about everything he’s learned, and coming up short every time. He shuffles out in the early morning light, eyes bleary as he nears the gate. She, however, is chipper as anything, smiling broadly when she sees him.

“Hey there, you ready to go?” He nods, grumbling out a quiet affirmation, and then they’re off.

Most of the morning is spent in silence, hiking up into the mountains. Joel knows that it’s not infected they have to worry about, not out here. But raiders are a whole other story, so he keeps a steady hand on his rifle slung over his shoulder, letting her lead them a few paces ahead of him. 

“You’re quiet this morning.” She glances at him over her shoulder as she speaks, eyebrow lifted.

“I’m thinking.” 

“About?” He huffs, stopping where he stands in the underbrush of the woods. When she realizes he’s no longer following, she turns back around, hands on her hips as she looks at him.

“I just– I wish you’d give me some straight answers here. I’ve heard something different about you from just about everyone in town– and I’m not sure if I believe any of it. Just– please.” Her brow is furrowed, eyes squinted at him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” He swallows hard, eyes glancing around the thick trees before looking back at her.

“The truth– I want the truth.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.” He has to laugh out of frustration at this little game they’re playing, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a low curse before focusing back on her.

“Alright, I’ll be specific. All those men that died. A lot of folks around town are convinced that you had something to do with it. S’that true?” When she speaks, Joel’s taken aback by her tone, her usual lightness replaced by a steeled stoicism.

“I had nothing to do with that. Any of it. The only curse that was on those men was their own goddamn minds buying into the town bullshit.” He’s inclined to believe her, judging by her unwavering gaze and the sure tilt of her chin as she speaks, but there’s still more that he needs to know.

“But you are– different. Aren’t you?” That coaxes a smile out of her, and she steps a bit closer to him.

“Different.” She says the word like a challenge, and he nods, taking his own steps closer to her.

“Is that your conclusion, Joel?” Both of them have their arms crossed over their chests, and they now stand so close that their forearms lightly brush.

“Starting to think I ain’t ever gonna reach a conclusion about you, darlin.” Her eyes crinkle, smile threatening to crook into a full-blown grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing? No conclusion?” It’s like magnets, the way their faces tilt, subtle shifts toward one another until he can feel the light air of her exhale across his mouth. He hums, a low sound in his chest.

“I think I’ll live.” He can practically feel the stretch of her grin at his words.

“I think you will too.” It happens as easily as a tide rolling in, languid in the way their lips slip together. His hands find the sweep of her jaw, pulling her in deeper, her palms splaying over his chest. He’s a little surprised when she swipes her tongue over the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing him open and tangling even closer with him. A woman has never taken charge like this with him, and it’s making his head spin. When she does pull away, he’s only a little embarrassed by the way he chases after her lips, stuttering into some sort of composure when she grins at him.

“For the record, you’re not wrong.” Not entirely sure what she means, he frowns at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

“I am different, Joel.”

“That wasn’t just a lucky guess, was it? About– about Sarah?” Her eyes soften, features dropping into a sad understanding. She slides her palms up from his chest to twine behind his neck. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

…

“This is lemon balm.” She glances over her shoulder at him from where she’s crouched down, thumbing at a cropping of large, waxy leaves. He’s learned the names of more plants today than he could ever remember, though he still nods when she shows him a new one like he has any clue what it is.

“What do you use that for?” 

“You dry it, and then you can brew tea with it. It’s calming– helps with sleep and stress. Or you can mix it into salve to treat cold sores. Though not many people in Jackson come to me with that problem.” She clips several leaves from the plant, carefully tucking them into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder as she stands back up. 

They’ve been out all day, moving through the woods as she collects various plant snippings, explaining each one to him, how to use it and what its use is. And between them, a silent understanding has settled, even though Joel hasn’t asked anymore questions about her. But he knows that Tommy was right. Whatever she is, she’s a good one.

“We oughta head back soon. Sun’s starting to set.” She nods, wiping her hands off on the front of her jeans, and they easily step into stride with one another. They spend most of the hike back in a comfortable silence. Joel finds himself wanting to say something, ask something more, but always hesitating, mind hazy from the heat of the day, and from the stamped memory of the kiss they shared. Even if it was cursed, he reckons that he wouldn’t mind that.

“Joel? I want to say thank you.” He glances at her walking alongside him, the quick-fading light casting syrupy shadows across her features. He has to blink a few times to keep himself from staring.

“No need for thanks. I was happy to repay the favor.” 

“No, that’s– that’s not what I meant. I mean– thank you for coming out today with me, I appreciate it. But– I wanted to thank you for– thinking for yourself– about me.” That makes him stop in his stride, turning to fully look at her as she does the same. They’ve just crested a hill, the gates of Jackson coming into view, and her eyes keep glancing back toward it, a nervous crease between her brows.

“It’s just– you’re right– I know everyone has something to say about me. And I guess I don’t have too many friends because of it. Most folks make up their minds about me before they even talk to me. So, thank you– for not doing that.” His chest twists at her words, the worried look scrunched across her face. He’d like to take the pain away that’s clear in her expression. And then, that tightness in his chest grows for a different reason, as he realizes that he’s already in far too deep with her. He has to clear his throat to shake away the thickening feeling, tentatively reaching his hand out to her, his fingers skating over the faint dip of her collarbone. He can see her breath catch at his touch, and he revels in it, letting his hand trail down her arm until their fingers are tangling together.

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for that. Whatever may or may not be true about you– no one deserves that. I just– why do you help them– when they treat you the way they do?” She sighs, squeezing his hand in hers, and giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.

“Because it’s what I’m good at. I always wanted to help people– and that’s what I get to do. Even if some of them are fucking dicks about it.” Her crassness catches him off guard, pulling a stuttering laugh from his chest as she grins. But she’s all seriousness again, clearing her throat, her brow pulling down.

“Suppose I should warn you now that they’ll talk about you too– if you stick around me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want–” He’s heard enough, and does something entirely too bold by closing the distance between them to steal another kiss, her wide eyes meeting his when he pulls away.

“Don’t care what any of ‘em have to say about me, or about you. They can talk all they want, darlin.” He can feel the relief in her sigh. She nods, giving his hand one final squeeze before breaking away, continuing the walk back to town. 

When they get back inside the gates, she offers him a small smile, her hands fidgeting with the straps of her pack.

“Thank you again. I really appreciated your help.” 

“Like I said, it was no–”

“Well, well, well– what do we have here? Looks like she’s got Miller under her spell, boys!” The change in her demeanor is instant, face scrunching up as they both turn to see where the commentary is coming from. Joel recognizes the man, Mason, if he remembers right, and a small group of other guys he knows from past patrol meetings. They’ve all got a similar sneer across their faces, eyes zeroed in on her, and he has to fight the urge to step in front of her to get them to stop looking at her like that.

“Guess we better get another coffin ready, huh? Hate to break it to you, Miller. She may be pretty, but she ain’t nothing but bad news.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides, and as the men break into another howl of laughter, his feet start moving toward them before his brain can catch up. But she’s quick to step in front of him, hands pressing into his chest and eyes fierce.

“Don’t– it’s not worth it.” It’s immediate, the calm that washes over him with her words, though he still glares over her shoulder at the men, whose laughter has only escalated.

“Awww, she got you good, man! Hey, witchy-poo! What kinda magic you got working on Miller to have him so whipped?” And with that, Joel is ready to bash their heads in all over again, though she holds him back with her palms firm against the front of his shirt. 

“Joel, it’s fine. They’re harmless, really.” He glances at the men one more time before finally focusing back on her, huffing as he nods. She gives him what she can of a smile, worry still pressed between her brows. 

“I’ll see you soon, ok?” His hands flex at his sides, wanting more than anything to tuck her under his arm and walk off together, but he settles for another nod, and a whispered acquiescence. She’s gone in a blink, walking off to the hollering of the men behind her. Before he can do something stupid, Joel heads off in the opposite direction toward the Tipsy Bison. He needs a fucking drink.

…

Joel is nursing his second tumbler of whiskey when just about the last person he’d like to see sidles up next to him at the bar. 

“Miller.” Mason sits down on the stool next to him, but Joel keeps his eyes on his swirling glass. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time out there. But I’m trying to help you out.” Joel rests his elbows on the bar, glancing briefly at Mason.

“Don’t remember asking for your help, man.” Mason laughs, turning on his stool to fully face Joel, a stupid grin across his face.

“Well then you don’t know her as well as we all do. I meant what I said, y’know. She’s bad news.” Joel’s starting to feel that anger creeping up his throat, angling himself just slightly in Mason’s direction to get a good look at him.

“Son, I’ve heard enough stories this week to have a pretty good idea of just how full of shit you all are. I thought this was a community of decent people, really. But after being told one too many times about some ridiculous curse, I realize you’re nothing but fools and cowards.” Mason laughs again, and Joel’s a blink away from slapping the sound right out of his mouth. 

“I’m not talking about that bullshit curse.” Joel squints at him.

“Come again?” 

“That curse you’re referring to? I agree with you that it’s town nonsense. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” When Joel stays silent, Mason’s mouth stretches into a smile.

“She may not be sending men to their graves, but she ain’t so innocent either. See, she likes to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Mason nods.

“In other people’s business. Sure, she helps folks all the time. But that’s not all she’s doing in that shop of hers.” Joel huffs, getting tired of the way this man seems to be stringing him along.

“Talk plainly, son. It’s getting late.” Mason barks out a laugh, sliding off his stool before laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder, a squinted smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go see what she’s got cooking up in that kitchen of hers in the middle of the night. Because I can tell you right now, it ain’t fucking tea.”

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 1 - New Arrivals

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

previous | next

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.6k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

chapter warnings: childbirth (mentioned)

Chapter 1 - New Arrivals

The first time you met Joel, he stank like shit. Literally, he smelled like he had rolled in it. You issued him soap, and sent him on his way. That was a loss to Jackson’s ledgers you were more than willing to take.

The second time, he smelled better. Unremarkable mostly, more of a neutral scent tinged with man smell around the edges. Nothing to write home about. Still, you issued him deodorant. Couldn’t take any chances.

He requested bullets, a basic first aid kit, and warm clothing. With Maria’s approval, you made the relevant deductions and issued the items at hand. You even sprung for wool socks. With a winter like this, he could use all the help he could get.

“You’re headed south, right?” you asked him as he packed a worn duffel bag.

“Colorado,” he replied. You waited, but that’s all he gave you. Guess he didn’t feel like elaborating.

“What about the girl, she need anything?”

He considered the offer, then asked, “You got any pens, pencils or anything? Notebooks? She likes to keep track of things, take notes. Draw, mostly,” he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face, “And we’re almost out of paper.”

You smiled at that. A girl after your own heart . “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

* * *

You asked Tommy about him, once the two of them were gone. He didn’t have much to say.

“Barely talked to the girl. Probably know about as much about her as you do. Joel… Well, Joel’s an enigma.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Come on, Tommy. I’m asking for the basics, not his social security number.”

Tommy sighed. “He’s brash, he’s protective, he’s opinionated… I don’t know what much else to tell you. He’s just Joel. One of those people you gotta get to know just by knowing ‘em, I guess.”

You blinked twice. “Supremely helpful, Tommy.”

* * *

The next time you met Joel, he smelled better but looked worse. You only half-remembered his eyes, but something in them last time had been warmer. The ones you saw now were… dead, almost. Like something within them had been destroyed. Whether he’d been the one to do the destroying or it had been done to him remained to be seen.

You’d seen him and the girl with Tommy and Maria in the dining hall that first time they’d come to town, wolfing down chili like they’d just discovered, well, chili. They ate slower now, both of them, not like they weren’t in a rush but like their heads were elsewhere. The girl seemed to stare into nowhere—not all the time, but it was distinct when she did it.

Joel didn’t zone out. No, if anything he was zoned in . On that poor girl who had been so full of life just months ago, now hollowed out like far too many others. You’d see about filling her back up later. But for now, he was the one that perplexed you. Why was he so focused on her? What had happened out there? Part of you never wanted to find out, but part of you really, really did.

Regardless, she needed new shoes. So you joined them. The man stopped mid-chew, looking up at you with trepidation.

“Hi,” you smiled, “glad you two made it back in one piece.”

“Me too,” he replied, turning his attention back to his cud. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke or not. You turned your attention to the girl.

“You’re Ellie, right? I’m Doe. Or that’s what most folks around here call me, anyway.”

“Doe?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Like a deer?”

“A female deer,” you winked back at her. She stared at you blankly. 

“It’s a song,” Joel muttered to her softly, “from before.”

“Oh,” Ellie nodded. The silence dragged, but thankfully you came prepared.

“Cobbler?” you offered bowls to each of them. It was fresh from the oven, still steaming and smelling of cinnamon.

“Yes, please!” Ellie yanked the bigger bowl towards herself, broccoli forgotten. She got a few bites in before Joel intervened, pulling the sugar aside and reinstating the vegetables. The girl frowned at that, but his pointed look said not to bother arguing. So she didn’t.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still be hot in a minute.” You tucked into your own cobbler, savoring the warm sweetness as it glided across your tongue. Even in Jackson, it was a delicacy. But it was spring, and the cherries were here. And you’d accounted for everything.

“Did you want something?” Joel asked, finishing his own plate and reaching for the cobbler.

“Ellie needs new shoes.”

“We’ve got it handled,” he said.

“Do you, though? You haven’t got much to trade with, and we’ve got plenty in inventory. That’s kind of what it’s there for. Why suffer blisters when communism’s got your back?”

“Can I?” Ellie’s face lit up. You liked seeing her eyes like that: brighter. They belonged that way.

Joel swallowed his cobbler, mulling over the idea. “After lunch,” he agreed, nodding to the eager teen. “Finish your cobbler first.”

* * *

Ellie’s new light-up sneakers lit the way as you exited the storeroom through your office. Joel had insisted on a sensible pair as well, but you couldn’t deny the kid a little whimsy.

“Maria give you your patrol schedule yet?” you asked him, nodding to the well-worn chalkboard in the corner. Routes on the left, days and times up top. Names filled in the boxes in between, a testament to your logistical wizardry.

“Not yet,” he said, crossing to examine it. “Guess she doesn’t need to, now.”

“I’ve got you paired up with Tommy. Seemed easiest, to get you started. You’ll be headed up to the lodge, it’s a pretty standard route. Get the occasional runner, but it’s wildlife more than anything.”

He nodded, heading toward where Ellie was already scampering out the door.

“See you Tuesday, I suppose. Guessing you’re the one to check-in with?” he asked.

You smiled at his correct assumption. 

“Sure am.”

* * *

You didn’t know Joel well enough to make assumptions about his punctuality, but Tommy was never late. Even you were late from time to time, often getting swept up in tasks and losing track of things. But the man was annoyingly punctual. According to Maria, that’s part of why she fell for him.

Tommy was late today.

You crossed to the large observation window lining one wall of your office. It gave you a clear view of the front gates and surrounding guard stations, but there was no sign of Tommy anywhere. Or Joel, for that matter.

A knock on your door interrupted your analysis. It was Eugene. The grizzled old man acted anything but, a smile breaking out across his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, Doe! How’s things?” He asked.

“Fine. I’m looking for Tommy, actually–”

“Didn’t you hear?” He interrupted, “Maria’s gone into labor. He’s with her at the clinic.”

Your stomach dropped. Here you were preparing to chew Tommy out for his tardiness when the whole time he’d been busy becoming a father. A very valid excuse.

“And Joel?” you asked. “They were supposed to patrol together this afternoon, lodge route.”

“Not sure. He wasn’t with them. Listen, I gotta go grab the baby blanket I made and drop it off, but you and I need to have a drink one of these days. I worry your hair’s gonna start falling out in clumps if you don’t take a break eventually.”

“Yeah, but then what would you do, patrol out to the dam with Jesse? There’s a reason I don’t pair you two up anymore.”

“Because you don’t like blackberries?” he chided.

You frowned, “No, because you spent so long harvesting them your 8 hour patrol took 12. I was this close to sending out a search party. A little planning prevents a lot of headaches, Eugene.”

He turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder to get the last word. “You know what else is good for headaches? Whiskey.”

You sent Eugene on his way with instructions to give Maria your best. You’d visit her when the baby was here. For now, you had a community to protect. 

With Tommy out of commission and Joel MIA, you’d have to find someone else to help you cover this patrol route. Dina was always a solid partner, if she was around. Devon the bartender could generally be counted on to have your back. Eugene would be ideal, but you didn’t want to make him work a double.

You headed to the stables to see who you could find. Upon entering, the warmth of the building and company of the animals soothed your unease, if only slightly. 

You found your horse’s stall, the gray spotted mare whinnying at your arrival.

“Hey, Bailey,” you smiled, offering her a slightly bruised apple. She took it gratefully, big brown eyes closing in enjoyment.

“She’s beautiful,” a voice said from behind you, making you jump.

“Sorry,” the voice stepped into the light, “It’s just me.”

“Joel,” you took a deep breath in an attempt to slow your racing heartbeat.

“Sorry I’m late–” 

You cut him off with a raised hand, looking him in the eye. 

“You’re not with your brother,” you finally said, more of a statement than a question.

“You’re not with your best friend,” he replied, offering no further details.

You sighed, debating arguing with him about it before deciding the subject was better left untouched. You had your reasons for staying away from childbirth. If Joel had his own, he was entitled to that. You weren’t going to press him on it, so long as he didn’t press you.

“Come on,” you said, swinging your leg over Bailey’s back and settling into the saddle, “We’re making up for lost time.”

previous | next

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 2 - Patrol

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

previous | next

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.0k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

chapter warnings: childbirth (mentioned)

chapter summary: A detour finds you and Joel lost in the woods and in need of shelter for the night.

Chapter 2 - Patrol

It was foggy today. Cold and foggy. You resented the low visibility, but Joel didn’t seem to mind. He followed behind you on Chestnut, an older mare named for her lovely, dark coat. While you focused on the trail, he watched the trees. Even if infected were rare out here, he wasn’t about to be caught off guard.

You made it about four miles before dust began to mix with the fog, making you cough until you pulled your shirt over your mouth and nose to block out the debris.

“Rockslide,” you called back to Joel, the sound of pebbles still clattering to the ground confirming your assessment. “We need to find an alternate route. I usually send patrols up this way three times a week, but no one’s come up this way since last Thursday. It’s overdue for a checkup.”

Joel was unfazed. “The river narrows to a stream about a mile back. We can cross over, loop around.”

You nodded, “Lead the way, Miller.”

Letting Joel lead was a mistake. Between the detour and the fog, you were hopelessly, utterly lost.

“If we die out here, I’m gonna kill you,” you told him, your annoyance beginning to slip towards downright anger.

“We’re not gonna die out here, Doe. Calm down.”

“We need to find high ground—figure out where we are, get above all this fog,” you said.

Luckily, you were headed uphill. But uphill didn’t last. Just as the fog began to thin, you reached a lake. Beside it stood a cabin, one you hadn’t seen on your patrols before.

The siding had once been painted a bright, cheery yellow, but time and the elements had stripped away much of the color. There were no signs of life, no broken windows. It had probably been abandoned long before the outbreak. Either that, or occupied by people who knew how to keep a low profile.

You eyed Joel, and with a sharp nod, he dismounted. You tied the horses just inside the treeline and approached, slowly and quietly climbing the stairs to the enclosed porch.

You squatted down to pull out your lock pick, but before you could even retrieve it, Joel was winding up to kick the door down. You stopped him with a gentle hand on his thigh. He looked down at you, eyes wide, and you answered his unspoken question by raising your lock pick. 

You made quick work of the lock, standing to push the door open. You motioned for Joel to head inside, but he opted to hold the door for you instead. “After you, ma’am.”

You were tempted to roll your eyes at that, but honestly, you kind of liked it. You led the way, clicking on your flashlight to investigate.

It wasn’t untouched, like you had initially suspected. There were signs of past occupants between the outbreak and now, but whoever it was hadn’t stayed long. The cabinets were still mostly stocked, though none of the cans were of your preferred variety. The curtains were drawn and dusty, having been left that way for some time. You opened them, letting in a dull beam of late-afternoon light. It glinted off liquor bottles strewn across the carpet by the couch.

“Looks like somebody hunkered down here for a bender,” Joel said, toeing a half-empty bottle with his boot.

“You got all that from liquor bottles and a carpet covered in dried vomit? Very observant, Miller,” you teased, taking a seat on an old barstool.

“I’m surprised they didn’t start breaking shit.”

“Not every drunk’s a violent one, Joel. Some of them just get sad. Or horny.”

“Or both.”

You huffed at that. He wasn’t wrong. You were stretching your neck when Joel made the call.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “We should settle in here for the night.”

“That’s not–” you started, before realizing he was probably right. If you kept going, you’d likely end up going in circles, just getting more lost than you already were. And even with all the floor vomit, that couch looked comfy. “Fine,” you sighed. “Get a fire going, figure out some food. I’m gonna head up to the roof, see if I can get a radio signal.”

Joel nodded, setting his pack down by the fireplace. You climbed the ladder up to the small loft space, looking for roof access. There was a small skylight, and with luck, it pushed open.

You crawled out onto the roof, leaning back against a weathered gable. You could just barely get a signal on your long-range radio.

“Doe to base camp, come in,” you spoke into the mouthpiece.

“Copy, Doe. This is Mike at the main gate. Over,” a voice crackled through the speaker.

“Joel and I hit a rockslide along the Mountain View lodge trail earlier. We took a detour and got lost in all the fog. We’re at a cabin near some lake up here. Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for the night. Over.”

“But you’re alright otherwise? No injuries or anything? Over.”

“Fine, Mike. We’re fine. Should probably get a group out this way soon, though. The place is well-stocked, practically untouched. We’ll probably be back sometime tomorrow afternoon, assuming this fog clears and we can get our bearings. Over.”

“Copy that, Doe. All good over here.”

“Copy. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You scrubbed a hand over your face, your bones heavy with exhaustion. It had been a very long day.

“Soup’s on!” Joel called up from the living room.

“Be right there!”

You gathered your things, starting your haphazard slide back toward the skylight when a thought hit you.

“Hey, Mike?” you asked into the radio.

“Yeah?”

“How’s Maria?” 

You waited anxiously for his reply. Childbirth had never been without its risks, but in the apocalypse, it was easy for things to go wrong.

“She’s good,” Mike said, “Delivery went smoothly.”

Good, you thought, letting out a sigh of relief. That’s good.

The radio crackled back on, and Mike added one last detail to his report.

“It’s a girl.”

previous | next