Joel Miller - Blog Posts

Joel Miller Masterlist

Most works are NSFW and contain smut. 18+ only

One-Shots

bad people

When it happened, it happened in the dark.

moments

Joel and you in a hotel phone booth.

teacups

Joel and you take a shower after a traumatic event.

press the gas and ride

comfort in a car (a month after teacups)

darlin'

You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down.

Drabbles

warmth

Joel doesn't realize he gives a shit until he does.

deserving

You do something for Joel.

Headcanons

pregnant

jealous

When You're Lost in the Darkness Look for the Light🦋

Not my best job, I mean; I`m still learning but it was a fun little project.

Just liked to see how many elements I could extract from the first episode alone and put into gifs, also how fast the changes between the time period despicted are.

Ignorance: part 1/?

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You confess to Joel and are rejected.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: ANGST, mention of deaths, typical canon violence, end of the world, Jackson!Joel.

note: this story had already been posted before my blog was deleted and is also available on AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Ignoring the bad part of things was your favorite thing to do. It made you less sad and gave a false sense of normality in the destroyed and rotten reality you lived in. Not that Jackson was destroyed and rotten, but the world outside the gates was. So that's why you ignored everything, the spores, the cordyceps, the clickers, runners, lurkers, all of them. You did everything to escape being put on patrol, you wouldn't leave Jackson unless it was a matter of life and death. Your tasks in the community were taking care of the gardens, the stables and cleaning the community cafeteria.

It seems like a lot, but it's good for not looking idle and useless, it takes up your entire day and gives you a feeling of work accomplished and satisfaction at the end of the day, when you climb the few old wooden steps to the porch of your house. Those steps really need replacing, actually. If you stood still for more than a few minutes on top of them you ran the risk of falling. But you left that aside, you had something else in mind. In fact, you had one person in mind.

That almost completely gray-haired man, with a grey beard, robust, deep and serious voice, strong Texan accent. Joel Miller. You couldn't stand being around him for more than a few minutes, your heart was beating very quickly and you felt butterflies in your stomach. The man was Ellie's father, a girl a few years younger than you, she was a bit foul-mouthed but nice, you had already spoken to her a few times.

You held your breath from the first time you saw him in the community a year ago, and it's never been the same since. Whenever you passed him on the streets you held an idiotic sigh, you felt like a teenager for acting like that, but you couldn't help it. The man had your heart in his hands and you couldn't do anything to get it back.

Some people in Jackson spoke badly about Joel behind his back, saying he was a surly, violent man who had a lot of mood swings. One of your few friends, Emily, said the same thing when you mentioned Joel to her, but you ignored it. It wasn't like he was that bad, it should just be that the hard years he lived outside the gates were taking a toll on him, but you were sure he was a good person.

You said this to Emily, but she reiterated that Joel was an extremely violent and bad-tempered man who had done terrible things in the outside world. You chuckled and said 'and who hasn't done terrible things out there?'. Emily sighed and the conversation ended there

Holidays in Jackson were celebrated without fail, especially the most famous ones, like Christmas and New Year, but Maria began to innovate and encourage other things, like spring food festivals, Mother's Day, and Valentine's Day. It seemed strange to celebrate Valentine's Day at the end of the world, but the young people in the community seemed to get excited, you included, so hearts and pink things were hung on the doors of the houses and some lights were painted pink too, in the community bar.

Oh, one thing that wasn't mentioned: your house was almost opposite Joel's house. A coincidence. You took advantage of the Valentine's Day arrangements and picked up some decorations to hang in your house, a medium pink paper heart was glued, and next to it two small red hearts. You pulled away and smiled widely as you looked at the minimal decorations that gave some life to the almost colorless landscape.

You heard heavy footsteps trampling the snow and turned to see the man himself, shotgun slung over his shoulders, backpack on his back and a tired expression on his face. Joel looked directly at your door, then looked at you and shook his head and turned to enter his own without saying anything.

You let out an excited squeal along with other women whenever someone confessed to their loved one or handed over a hastily made card. The number of these events had been increasing since the community was dressed up for the holiday. You couldn't wait to do the same, you had already planned everything, you had handmade a card for Joel, it wasn't pink or red, he didn't seem to like those things very much. It was a nice card that could be used to decorate his room, or something like that, if he didn't actually have a room.

You wouldn't do that in front of everyone, you knew Joel was an older and reserved man, he didn't seem to like attention. You didn't know his schedule, you only saw him occasionally passing home at dusk, so that's what you did: you sat on your sofa below the window and waited until Joel passed by. As soon as he appeared in your field of vision with the same thick beige jacket, the same shotgun slung over his shoulder, the same worn brown backpack and the same heavy boots you stood up and took a deep breath. She watched until he entered the house and closed the door, then took the card from the coffee table and put on his coat, opened the door and took the few steps it took until he arrived at Joel's house.

The card you had prepared was made of yellow paper, folded in half, it had a bee drawn with your best artistic gifts and right below it there was the phrase 'Bee mine?' in large black letters. You let out a giggle through your nose and walked up the few steps to Joel's house, knocked on the door softly and waited.

You didn't notice, but the window curtain moved to open a tiny crack, where Joel peeked out. A few seconds later the door opened and you caught your breath. There he was, he looked tired and you felt bad for going to talk to him at this time. Shaking your head slightly, you were about to start speaking, but before you could open your mouth, Joel spoke:

"May I help you?" the hoarse voice spoke.

"Oh, good night." you said shyly after a few minutes. "I... I wanted to, uhm–"

"Listen, young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I just got here and I'm tired." he continued.

You swallowed hard and took the card from behind your back, holding it towards him.

"I-I was hoping to talk, but you're tired, so... here it is, I made it for you." you waved the card but he didn't move to take it. "It's for Valentine's Day."

Your stomach was churning, his expression didn't look very good, he looked very seriously at you, then looked at the card.

"You can take it, it’s for you–” you tried to extend the card to him again.

"I'm sorry, but, did you really think this was a good idea, girl?" the tone of voice was rude now. "Coming over to my house like that and handing me a piece of paper?"

"I– uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." you swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wanted to give the card I made."

"And why do you want to give me this bullshit so much?"

You had your face lowered but you looked up, slightly wide-eyed at his aggressive sentence, consumed by a wave of angry courage you blurted out:

"I really like you."

"What?" he said mockingly after a few seconds. "Do you really like me?"

"Yes." you answered bravely, still feeling the lump in your throat. "I– I really like you, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

Joel stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying you, then let out a light nasal laugh and said:

"I'm old enough to be your father, girl. Go home and don't bother me again, you seem like the pushy type."

"Listen, please, I've loved you for a long time–"

"What are you talking about, stupid girl?" he looked very angry now, his brow was furrowed and his nostrils were flared. "Love? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If you give me a chance to–"

"Go home, I told you." he said. "There's no chance of that, or anything else, I don't want anything to do with someone like you, understand? Don't bother me anymore."

Then he went back inside and slammed the door in your face.

You knew very early and came home very late to avoid laying eyes on Joel. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored the warnings about him after all, but he was still present in your heart. You shoved the card deep into your dresser, you were embarrassed to look at it now.

Ironically, now that you wanted to be more busy you had less work, winter had arrived and the ground was frozen, so the garden was at a standstill. So you dedicated yourself to the horses and cleaning the mess hall, returning home at almost the same time as always.

You hadn't told Emily what you were going to do and you hadn't told her about the rejection either, she was going to throw it in your face that she had warned you. You felt so stupid now, how could you have thought you had a chance? So much self-esteem.

The days passed quickly and you were thankful for that, but it wasn't like you forgot what happened. Your first interaction with Joel since the incident was when you were cleaning the cafeteria to close, it was already dark and it was practically empty. Mopping the floor repeatedly and sighing every now and then, you didn't see him walk through the large doors.

"Are you guys finishing early?" the thick Texan accent spoke from behind you and you froze momentarily, then turned to him with an effort of blank expression.

"This week, yes, we are down one person." you replied and went back to mopping the floor.

"Okay, thanks." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking outside again, and you let out a sharp breath.

The universe seemed to make fun of you and a few days later you had your next interaction with Joel.

Someone covered you in cleaning the cafeteria, so you used the free time to try to fix the rotten steps on your porch. As you repeatedly hammered the nails into place, you felt a poke on your shoulder and stopped your movements, feeling your stomach turn in knots when you saw Joel behind you.

"Can I help you?" you asked, standing up and brushing the snow and dirt off your knees.

"Do you realize it's already night? I need to go out on patrol tomorrow and you're making too much noise." he said rudely.

"Right. I'm sorry." You turned around and started picking up the tools you used, holding them against your chest and seeing the best way to climb without falling.

You had only fixed one of the steps, the one closest to the ground, so you climbed up on it and stretched your leg to try to climb over the others, but the new step wasn't securely fastened and you slipped, letting out a pathetic little scream.

You heard footsteps approaching and his arms lifting you off the ground quickly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joel's deep voice asked and you glanced at him sideways.

"I'm fine, thank you." you replied and saw him come closer to rest his hand on the small of your back. "Don't touch me." you exclaimed.

"I just wanted to see if you were hurt." he took a few steps back, looking embarrassed.

"I am well, thank you." you responded quickly and walked away from him, picking up the materials you used earlier again.

You balanced yourself and took a little jump to the porch, entered and closed the door.

TLOU MASTERLIST

Joel Miller

Ignorance / (AO3)

Abby Anderson

What's wrong between us? - oneshot

Ellie and Joel sticker :3

coping

Firefly vs. Moth: A spur of the moment and simplified analysis on the usage of bugs in The Last of Us

!!Spoilers for The Last of Us & part 2!!

In the first game the symbolic bug is the firefly. Joel is looking for the fireflies to give them Ellie. Essentially, he's looking for the light that he lost when Sarah died. The fireflies are that light, after all their modo is "Look for the light, believe in the fireflies". However, Joel realizes just in time that that light was Ellie all along. She is his new light.

In Part 2, Ellie is not a firefly anymore. Her symbolic bug is the moth, as seen on her tattoo and the many drawings of it she does throughout her journal. She lost her light, but just like a moth, she's searching for it, drawn to it. But this light is nothing like the gentle glow of fireflies, it's a strong, dangerous flame that almost burns her.

I feel the same could apply to Abby, the once firefly who lost her light. Although her animal is the wolf, she too acts like a moth, entice by the fire of vengeance which almost burns her, until she's able to pull away and renounce it.

i do not fear i’m in love with him

your boyfriend, joel miller.

Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense  is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today. 

Not that you’re really complaining. 

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit.  His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful. 

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?” 

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.” 

He grins and raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips. 

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once. 

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously. 

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out. 

“Just Joel if fine, actually.” 

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience. 

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe. 

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief. 

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out. 

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements. 

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head. 

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same. 

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes. 

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it. 

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word. 

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as  his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming. 

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace. 

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open. 

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore. 

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper. 

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case. 

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him. 

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day. 

For the next time. 

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip. 

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to. 

Because he just called you his girl. 

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century. 

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy. 

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice. 

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?” 

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting. 

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your  jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him. 

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore. 

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch. 

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is. 

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you. 

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. 

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.” 

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation. 

But he would never let you win that easily, would he? 

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper. 

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts. 

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms. 

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess. 

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under. 

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything. 

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want. 

It’s Joel.

All of it. 

You want Joel. 

All of him. 

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him. 

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh. 

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily. 

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders. 

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane!  And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.” 

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you. 

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in. 

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if  you think I'm like this with anyone else.” 

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying. 

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip. 

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything. 

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together.  “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you. 

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second. 

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up. 

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts. 

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out. 

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly. 

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls,  his thumb moving  to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually. 

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again. 

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm.  "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry.  Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive. 

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and  scorching you from the inside out. 

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions. 

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress. 

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.” 

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is  betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me."

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him. 

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then  bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them. 

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. 

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile. 

Every time. 

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times. 

How the fuck is this real? 

He  stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it. 

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket. 

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?” 

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone.. 

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but  kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes. 

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back  on his knees, one  hand around the base of his cock, the other  on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change. 

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him. 

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan. 

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost. 

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch. 

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you. 

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest. 

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it. 

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile. 

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure. 

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away. 

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard. 

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

Sooooo I watched Logan last night. Have a WIP of the Daddy-Daughter Badass Squad!!!

One of my favorite scenes from the original game.

I love how Joel instructs Ellie so naturally, telling her what she has to do and how to do it.

I also love the fact that he’s becoming more open and trusting of Ellie, trusting her to handle a rifle, trusting her to watch his back.

Revenge Is Best Served Cold.

A New Story Begins.

Brothers reunited

The first games atmosphere is unmatched

TIL that Joel died on my birthday

Similarities between TLOU 1 & 2 and Arcane.

Beginning first with plot elements and environment, then to overlaps between characters.

Potential spoilers for season one and two of Arcane and The Last of Us Part One and Part Two. But I did my best to skirt around them.

The QZs and Piltover.

The quarantine zones of the TLOU are the remains left of the United States government after martial law was declared in response to the outbreak. And they are run in the same way as martial law, where force is used to control the population.

Food rations are controlled and hoarded. Resources are scare. But your option otherwise is to risk roughing it on your own against infected and nature.

It is a terribly repressive system, which sparks the emergence of the Fireflies.

Similar, to Piltover. Mostly through the lens of residence of the under city.

Enforces stomping through the streets, imprisoning your neighbors, breaking up families, using violence as a tool for control.

Furthermore, Piltover ignores the lack of resources in the undercity, has no member of the council who’s from the undercity to represent them (until the end of the series), and exploits there weaknesses for profit.

The Fireflies and The Firelights.

Both the Fireflies and the Firelights exist to do the same thing: challenge an oppressive government and bring hope for the future. And they both use any means necessary to achieve their goals.

Although, the Firelights also have the added challenge of Silco’s control of the Undercity.

Additional, they’re pretty much named the same things. Firelights are just the Arcane universes version of fireflies (or lightning bugs, whatever your preferred name for them)

“When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.”

Spores and Toxic Gas (The Gray)

I also can’t help but draw parallels between airborne spores from TLOU and the gas from the mines in Arcane.

Both result in coughing and choking initially. Spores lead always to infection and death, unless your Ellie. The Gray, as it’s referred to in the show, is shown to have numerous side effects, if you don’t suffocate from exposure to its gas form. Most notable examples, Viktor and Silco. The disease Viktor has, I’d guess leukemia, seems to be a result of exposure to pollution in his childhood. And Silco’s left eye is left in a constant battle of corruption after a wound he receives there is exposed to polluted river water. Both of which would lead to death if treatment wasn’t possible (Shimmer).

Violet and Ellie

I’ll start with a silly point first before the heartbreak: both are gay. Neither give a specific identity, but for generally purpose, and because of only seeing romantic relations between them and other woman, lesbian is what we’ll call it.

Here we have too powerful, strong willed, quick witted, lesbian woman as main characters in a narrative about overcoming hardships and heartbreak.

Now the overlaps in those hardships and heartbreaks.

Both are orphaned at a young age. Vi after an uprising gone wrong. Ellie’s is never revealed in the games. And then both are adopted by a new father figure. Vander and Joel respectively.

Both are taught survival and fighting techniques from them. Both see the adoptive father as their real father. Then both of them lose said father. Both of them feel responsible for that death.

Vi eventually heals from this loss by the end of the series, and while she definitely carries the grief of that loss through the show, she doesn’t follow the same kind revenge plot that Ellie does. What Ellie does belongs in a completely different post.

Abby and Jinx

I almost didn’t include this because at first I thought the only narrative similarity between the two would be the responsibility of the previous mentioned death of the father figures. Abby kills Joel. Jinx (Powder) (accidentally) kills Vander.

Especially because I consider Vander Jinx’s father, too. Regardless of her relationship Silco after his passing.

But then I thought about Lev and Isha. Abby and Lev relationship in the game exists to mirror the relationship between Ellie and Joel.

And while I could see an argument that Isha is meant to help Jinx heal, especially heal the relationship between herself and Vi, I still place her in a role of motherhood or caregiver for Isha.

Jinx learns so much about love, forgiveness, and hope from Isha. Similar to how Abby found forgiveness for Joel actions once she finally experienced what it means to live for someone else.

Jinx sees herself in Isha, just as Abby saw herself in Lev.

Joel and Vander

As you could probably gather from the previous two points, both these characters are father figures.

Joel takes Ellie under his wing after circumstances lead the to travel across the country in hopes Ellie’s immunity will lead to a cure. But at the end of the game, when complications arise, he saved Ellie, leaving body after body in his wake.

Vander, friends with their mother and father, already knew Violet and Powder. He in fact lead the uprising against Piltover that would result in the death of their parents. He adopts them then, and shifts focus into making the holding the Undercity together the best he can, even alliancing himself with enforcers to try and keeps his daughters as safe as he can.

I’m not gonna spoil anything, but the point is these two men would do anything, and I mean anything, for the safety of their daughters.

Bombs

Maybe a dumb point, but bomb mechanics in TLOU is one of the most fun aspects of the gameplay. And Jinx’s most infamous for her bombs.

If I missed anything or got something wrong, please let me know!

Also, enjoy an tik tok edit of them. @violetswifes.

The Last of Us Part II

warm enough ⋆₊˚ ࿔⋆

pre-canon qz!joel miller x fem!reader | masterlist |

1.7k words | joel miller before ellie so he’s distant but not too bad, fwb to lovers, kissing, unprotected piv sex. — still trying to cope with his death:,((

summary- in the Boston QZ, survival comes first—but when you’re sharing smokes, running jobs, and ending up in each other’s beds more often than not, lines blur fast. Joel’s older, guarded, and dead set on keeping it casual. She’s younger yeah, but tired of pretending it’s nothing. It’s not love. Not exactly. But it’s warm.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

It wasn’t supposed to happen again.

It never does.

But somehow you’d ended up tangled in his sheets anyway, your knees brushing his under the thin blanket, the air between your bodies too warm, too full. It was always like this—frenzied, wordless, fleeting. A way to survive the way the world pressed down on your chest like a loaded weapon.

But this time was different.

You hadn’t woken up alone.

Joel Miller, the man who never stayed, was still there.

You stirred first. Sunlight cut through the cracks in the boarded-up window, slicing across his bare shoulder. You studied the soft line of his jaw, the way his brows stayed furrowed even in sleep. Like he couldn’t let go of whatever ghosts lived behind his eyes, even when unconscious.

You turned over, pulling the blanket up. Hoping maybe he’d shift and mumble something. Maybe you’d pretend it didn’t feel real. But then—

Footsteps. The bed dipped. Joel sat up and rubbed a hand down his face.

He didn’t look at you.

Instead, he stood, tugged on his shirt, and wandered into the kitchen—if it could be called that. A hot plate. A kettle. Cans lined up like trophies. You listened to him move, the scrape of the metal lid opening, the glug of water.

And then… coffee.

You blinked.

Joel never made coffee after. Hell, he never let you stay long enough to see what he did after.

When he came back in, he was holding two chipped mugs. He didn’t meet your eyes as he handed you one. “Still hot,” he muttered.

You sat up, blinking at him like he’d handed you a map out of this place. “You made two.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

You cupped the mug in both hands, let the heat seep into your fingers. It smelled like burned grounds and survival. But something about it settled your heart a little.

Joel sat back on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, watching the floor like it had something to say.

You broke the quiet. “Feels kinda normal, huh?”

His shoulders tensed.

He didn’t answer for a long beat. Then:

“Don’t get used to it.”

His voice had been soft, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. Not sharp enough to draw blood—just enough to remind you where the lines were.

You didn’t say anything. Just wrapped your hands tighter around the chipped mug and took a slow sip. Bitter. Burned. Warm.

He stood across from you, back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest like he was bracing for something.

Maybe your silence.

Maybe the truth.

You glanced at him over the rim of your cup. His gaze was fixed on the space behind you—somewhere over your shoulder, like if he looked you in the eye he might not be able to keep the mask on.

So you tried to keep it simple. “It was good coffee.”

That earned you a flicker of something—wryness, maybe. A tiny twitch of his mouth. “Tastes like shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “but it’s warm.”

Another long silence passed between you. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… full. Like both of you were waiting for something else to rise to the surface.

You caught yourself wishing the moment would stretch out a little longer. That he’d lean back against the counter like he belonged there. That he’d ask you to stay—not just to kill time until the next run, but because he wanted you there.

But Joel didn’t ask for things.

And you didn’t know how to ask either.

So you drained the rest of your coffee, set the mug down gently on the counter, and stepped back toward the door. Your boots scuffed against the worn floorboards.

“I should go,” you said, quiet.

Joel nodded. Still not looking at you.

Your fingers brushed the doorknob, cool metal under your skin. You hesitated.

“Thanks for… letting me stay.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Then, just as your hand started to turn the knob—

“Didn’t mind it.”

The words came out like they surprised him too. You turned halfway, your heart catching.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for once, he didn’t look away.

“Didn’t mind you bein’ here,” he said again, slower this time. Like maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to admit.

You smiled, small and warm. “Okay.”

Then you opened the door and left.

But your chest felt lighter.

A Few Days Later

The next few days are back to normal.

At least, mostly.

You go on a few jobs—runners, small deliveries. Joel doesn’t say much, but he sticks close. Always just behind your shoulder, scanning rooftops, watching your back like it’s second nature.

You try not to read into it.

But every time your eyes meet across a crowded alley, or in the back room of Tess’s hideout, there’s a flicker. A pause.

Like maybe something changed that morning, and neither of you knows what to do with it.

You hadn’t meant to end up there again.

You told yourself it was just muscle memory—your boots turning corners like they knew the way. That the pull in your chest wasn’t about him. That the ache wasn’t for him.

But the lights were out in your building. Your neighbor was crying again. And your bed was too cold, too quiet.

So you stood outside Joel’s door for almost a full minute, heart knocking against your ribs, before you lifted your hand.

You didn’t even knock.

He opened it before you could.

Joel stood there in a threadbare shirt and jeans, barefoot, with sleep-soft eyes and stubble smudged along his jaw. His brows furrowed, but not with surprise.

Like he’d been waiting.

A sixth sense.

“You alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “I didn’t wanna be alone.”

That was all you had to say.

He stepped aside.

Inside, the room was warm—barely. The radiator hissed. You shrugged off your jacket while he watched from the other side of the room, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Joel always looked tense. Even now, under the soft glow of the table lamp, he stood like someone expecting a fight.

Or a confession.

You took a slow step toward him. “You ever get tired of pretending this doesn’t mean anything?”

He didn’t move.

“‘Cause I do,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes searched yours. There was something rough and unreadable in his face, like he was trying to swallow back something too big for words.

“I don’t know what to call it,” he admitted, voice low, thick. “I don’t even know what it is. But when you knock, I open the door. Every time.”

Your throat tightened.

“I keep tellin’ myself I ain’t got room for this. For you. But you show up and I—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I want you here. That’s the truth.”

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding finally left your lungs.

You stepped closer. Close enough to see the flicker of hesitation behind his eyes, the war he was fighting with himself.

“But you’re scared,” you said softly.

Joel’s jaw flexed. “Damn right I am.”

You reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. “Then let me show you something good for once.”

And that broke him.

He kissed you like he needed it to stay alive.

Not hurried or rough like before—this was slow, devouring, like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go too soon. His hands cradled your face, rough thumbs grazing your cheekbones like he was trying to memorize you.

You slid your hands under his shirt, fingertips dragging over warm skin, the curve of old scars and hard muscle. Joel groaned into your mouth, deep and low, and pulled you closer by the hips.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he murmured against your lips. “Always walkin’ around like you don’t know what you do to me.”

You smiled into the kiss. “I know exactly what I do to you.”

He huffed a breath—half a laugh, half a growl—and walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“Lie down,” he said, voice gone dark and soft and commanding.

You obeyed, heart racing.

Joel stripped his shirt off, slow and deliberate, like he wanted you to watch. Then he knelt over you, kissing a trail down your neck, your chest, your stomach—taking his time, learning every inch of you like it was something sacred.

“Y’know how many nights I think about this?” he murmured against your skin. “Think about you.”

You arched under his touch, eyes fluttering. “Then why don’t you let it be more?”

His hands stilled for a second. Just long enough for you to feel the weight of the question.

Then he leaned up, kissed you again—softer this time. Sadder.

“I’m tryin’,” he whispered. “I don’t know how, but I’m tryin’.”

When he finally sank into you, it wasn’t frantic or desperate. It was slow, intense, real. His forehead rested against yours, breath hot against your lips as your bodies moved in rhythm, like this wasn’t something you stole—it was something you built.

Joel didn’t hide from it.

He kissed your knuckles when he held your hands above your head. He murmured your name like a promise. He stayed.

When you both fell apart together, it was quiet.

No words. Just warmth.

He didn’t let you go.

Later

You rested against his chest, legs tangled under the blanket, heartbeat slowly finding its way back to calm.

His hand moved gently along your arm, over and over, like he didn’t want to stop touching you even if he didn’t know what to say.

You turned your face up toward his.

“What now?”

Joel exhaled, thumb tracing the inside of your wrist.

“Now we sleep,” he said, voice husky.

“And tomorrow?”

There was a beat.

Then he kissed your forehead.

“Tomorrow, there’s coffee.”

yeah yeah im feeding yall ik

i just got stabbed and am throwing up all over the place rn btw!!

SPOILERS FOR THE LAST OF US S2 EP2 .ᐟ

okay i'm just gonna rant for a little bit so stick with me.

one. that death scene man. god. and i will say ellie crawling to joel is HEARTBREAKING. and also... abby breaking the fucking golf club. and that shot zooming out of ellie laying next to joel. along with ashley johnson's singing into the valley. i'm ILL.

now for some criticism...

i know alot of people are saying this but the pacing felt abrupt and there wasn't enough buildup!!! i've been talking to my friends about how i thought they would do it in ep3 or 4 this is NOT what i expected. and i feel like his death was just more cold and oddly sterile. the game made you live with that death and i feel like the show just uses it. and i don't know why they switched from the basement to the like living room area???? it felt much more sickening in the basement when it was dark. i don't know why it felt so much more disturbing so hopefully somebody explains why it feels like this lmao.

and i think what they could've done for ep2 instead was some scenes of joel and ellie’s strained reconnection. flashbacks to fill in time between seasons (their time in jackson, their awkward silence blah blah). joel teaching ellie guitar!! wish they had that guitar scene early on i genuinely love that scene so much! and to me it reinforces not just that he’s her father figure, but that he’s still shaping who she becomes. and maybe a tense moment where joel almost confesses what he did at the firefly hospital, adding to future conflict idk. and obviously abby's pov without the reveal. hate that they literally just tell you she's jerry's daughter this early. introduce abby and her crew, but withhold TELLING US EVERYTHING!! make us intrigued by her — not force us to empathize with her. let her and her group be a mystery. build suspense like the game! who are these people? why are they tracking someone? it’s better to be curious about abby than to be told we should understand her pain immediately.

also some scenes focused on the jackson life. give us scenes of joel, tommy, ellie, and dina in this insulated world. show their interactions, their daily routines, the illusion of safety. let joel have a moment of quiet and happiness! not to fake us out but to remind us what is being taken from ellie and us as the audience! oh yeah also i hate what they did with abby i'm sorry. it's been talked about alot before but abby's build IS important to her character!!! making her this short skinny girl is kinda crazy just saying!

yeah that's kinda it i literally just don't know what to do with myself and this is really poorly worded but rip joel. again. my goat ❤️

just started ep2...... eek

ᝰ

the fire was low, but the glow of it painted the walls with a soft orange flicker. the house was quiet, save for the soft scrape of metal on wood and the occasional pop from the fireplace. joel sat at the table, glasses halfway down his nose, sleeves pushed up, and a small block of wood cradled in his calloused hands. his knife scraped slow, methodical strokes along the curve of what looked like the beginnings of a fox, delicate ears just forming, the snout notched into shape. he looked like he belonged there. not just in the room, but in the moment. hands busy, mouth set, the steady rhythm of his work filling the silence like he needed it more than rest.

you hovered in the doorway for a moment. there was something magnetic about watching him when he didn’t know you were, how quiet he became, how precise. you couldn’t explain it, but something in you twisted a little when you saw him like this. it didn’t help that your brain was already a little fried from the day. you’d been restless all afternoon, bouncing between tasks around town, trying to distract yourself with anything that wasn't the thought of his hands. now you were back. and the ache was worse. he didn’t look up when you stepped in, but you could tell by the subtle shift in his shoulders that he knew you were there.

“you’ve been out there awhile,” he said, voice low and even, not pausing in his carving.

“wasn’t that long,” you murmured, stepping closer. “you eat anything?”

joel snorted softly. “ate somethin’ earlier. left some stew if you’re hungry.”

you walked around him, slow and quiet, letting your fingertips brush the edge of the table. you watched him work a little longer, the careful drag of his knife, the tension in his forearm, the way his brow furrowed when he focused. his glasses slid further down, and he huffed, pushing them back with the side of his wrist.

“i’m not really hungry,” you said, voice lower now.

he hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up.

you stepped between him and the table, gently nudging one of his knees open with yours. that finally earned you a glance. a small, knowing one.

“what’re you doin’?” he asked, not irritated, just suspicious.

you didn’t answer. you just moved closer and lowered yourself into his lap, straddling his thigh like it was muscle memory.

joel made a small sound in his throat. “jesus,” he muttered, setting the carving knife down with care but not taking his hands off you. “you’re gonna make me slice my damn thumb open one of these days, sneakin’ up on me like that.”

“you looked busy,” you said softly, your arms sliding around his shoulders. “didn’t wanna interrupt the great artist at work.”

he shook his head, his hands found your hips, grounding you, holding you still, but not pushing you away.

he muttered something you couldn't make out, setting the knife down with more care than necessary. “that what we’re doin’ now?”

“you’re not gonna make me beg, are you?” you said, your voice low as you slid your hands up the front of his shirt, thumbs brushing the space just under his collarbones. “been wound up all day.”

joel leaned back slightly to look at you over the top of his glasses. his eyes dragged over your face, then lower—assessing. thinking. his hands landed heavy on your hips, grounding.

he exhaled, slow and controlled, like he was weighing his options. like he was pretending you didn’t already have him wrapped around your finger.

“you’re actin’ real needy tonight,” he said, voice dropping a little lower. his hands were still on your hips, thumbs idly brushing the hem of your shirt like he was debating whether to tug you closer or keep you there and burn slow.

“been thinking about you all day,” you admitted, quiet against his skin. “you didn’t even notice how pretty you looked this morning. all frown and flannel and your fuckin hands…”

“mm,” he rumbled, mouth twitching. “that what’s got you worked up?”

you didn’t answer. you just shifted slightly in his lap, pressing down a little harder on his thigh, watching the way his jaw tightened when you did.

joel’s hands flexed, gripping your waist a little firmer now. “you come in here sittin’ on my leg like that,” he said lowly, eyes flicking to your mouth, “and you expect me to finish my carvin’?”

“i expected you to tell me how bad you missed me while i was gone,” you teased.

his brows lifted. “i see you every day.”

you leaned in closer. “doesn’t mean you don’t miss me.”

joel leaned back, gave you that quiet, unreadable look.

his hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing once before he pulled you closer, flush against him. the fox on the table forgotten, the knife untouched. his mouth brushed your cheek, soft and rough.

but you had him here, grounded. his hands, his warmth, the slow way he let himself have you.

“you done carving?” you whispered.

joel nodded slowly, almost like he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“good,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his. “’cause i need you worse than that fox does.” his glasses were crooked. you reached up and pulled them off, setting them aside. his eyes were darker now, heavier.

ᝰ

a/n: i wrote this at like 1am after watching the s2 premiere so it's ass but seeing him in those glasses... meow...

Chapter One: Week One  Fandom: The Last of Us (TV), The Last of Us (Video Games) 

It’s Joel’s fourth year in Jackson. When Tommy asks if he can help out a new arrival in need of housing, he’s understandably reluctant to share his and Ellie’s space with a stranger. And then he meets Kate.

She’s funny. She’s smart. She’s beautiful.

And she’s about to be Joel’s problem for the entire summer.

Through the Valley

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have been in mourning, and trying to avoid Joel Miller at all costs. Imagine my suprise when I discovered this image felt pretty Joel-coded. I paired it with the lyrics as sung by Ashley Johnson...

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all And my mind and my gun they comfort me Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life And I will dwell on this earth forevermore Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I can't walk on the path of the right because I'm wrong Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill Called himself the savior of the human race Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain But I said, "How can you save the world from itself?" 'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind Oh, and I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I know when I die my soul is damned

*never damned to me honey

@littlemisspascal 

@lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3

@shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

The Last of Us

Went a little old school today. Negotiating my health challenges, and hoping The Tumblr doesn't crash. Super excited about Season 2 of the Last of Us coming out this Sunday, but might need to watch after the fact. If you're looking for a fix until then, check out my "Crime and Punishment; Last of Us" hybrid I wrote for Pedge's Bookshop. I'm really proud of the series and it sets us at the doorstep of Season 2. Check it out!

Until then, "endure...and survive..."

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” “Don’t be overwise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “the most offensive is not their lying—one can always forgive lying—lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth—what is offensive is that they lie and worship their own lying…”

Dostoyevsky + The Dream

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful Coloring Book! I hope you will check out Pedge's Bookshop, as this rendering is based on the integration of "Crime and Punishment" themes that closely resemble "The Last of Us". I was really hesitant to finish this series, but I wanted to complete before Season 2. I guess I'll head over to Pedge's Cinema, or start a one-shot Pedge's Bookshop for "What Happened to Belen"? In the interim, I hope you enjoy the art and a prescient quote from Dostoyevsky himself I found very appropro for our LOU ongoing lore...

“He was in the hospital till after Easter. When he was better he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague…Some new sort of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious…Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretch looking at the others, beat himself on the beast, wept and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know who to blame, who to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race, and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.”

Pedge's Bookshop The Epilogue

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this RPF fic "Between the Pages and Us" by @andy-15-07 before heading into The Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, PTSD/anxiety attack,/nightmare, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", foreshadowing for LOU Season 2, pregnancy, not really smut but a lot of romance...Gosh, I didn't want this series to end, I think I was stalling a little...(series completion)

Series Masterlist

Words: 6k

Somehow you felt you had finally arrived. A lifetime of running, and you still had no earthly idea where you were going. But the events of the last few months had coalesced into a contentment that felt unbridled and dreamlike. You felt an odd pang of regret, recognizing the circumstances that had to occur to arrive at such a conclusion. But you almost didn’t care. Almost.

The often stoically minded Joel had softened himself for your benefit during this season of healing, and didn’t seem altogether bothered by the metamorphosis, however temporary it might be. He jokingly demanded all of his meals were spent in bed, so he could enjoy the luxury of having your supple body nestled beside him. A tenuous rapport had resumed with Ellie, particularly as she entertained a flirtation with a fellow commune resident named Dina. Under Joel’s feigned aloof tutelage, she endeavored to invite Dina to an upcoming dance to celebrate the Spring Harvest. But since her confession at the hospital, an unspoken apprehension had permeated the Miller household. It was as though the secret itself had tendrils of infection, moving into the nooks and crannies of an otherwise happy existence, and you found yourself wondering when the emotional dam might break.

There were so many aspects of life that were tenuous and fragile, and life could change at the flick of a switch. Sometimes, nearing the end of reading “Crime and Punishment” Joel’s baritone voice would trail off absentmindedly, as he read to you in bed. At first, you thought he had fallen asleep, but often discovered him starting darkly into the corners of the room, haunted by phantasms of the past you could never entirely understand. It often seemed that Joel was in an emotional prison of his own making, and his main solace in existence was the ever-present, anchoring support of his once again found family.

The both of you were still often plagued by nightmares, as you gathered bits and pieces of a life no longer lived. Joel’s stray, delirious comments about the horrors of the hospital, or impassioned plea to keep Sarah safe. Some of your nightmares were just as enigmatic; wrestling with Levi in a pit of snakes or running from infected that hounded you till you awoke in frightened disorientation. And Joel was always there. Grasping at your hands that were grabbing for purchase, shushing and pleading to remind you that you were safe. Somehow, his eyes would always find you in the dark, softly coaxing you back to the light. And you would hold one another, swaying from side to side or humming quiet melodies until the dawn arose. 

One recent commune expedition had brought back a guitar, and you were shocked to discover that Joel was a humble musical aficionado. It took quite a bit of convincing, but he had even started playing simple choruses, particularly at night when the stress of the day seemed to catch up with the entire family. Even Ellie seemed impressed as she took up the mantle of reading aloud, as you knitted in the living room. Though often besieged by Rascal the Cat and introspectively serenaded by Joel, it kept the nightmares at bay, with the dream-like quality of something from a book. And there wasn’t a moment you wanted to take for granted.

As the healing process continued there was thankfully a lot of work to be done. The Bookshop was nearing its final reveal, and as Joel’s health continued to improve, Maria was nearing her due date. Joel and Ellie had begun to take small trips to the Bookshop in preparation, and you had all but moved into the Miller residence full time. It was ridiculous to cite nursing duties, as returned to your teaching obligations full time. But the easy rapport and comradry you felt, not only with Joel, but with Ellie had started to wear away your well-developed armor. It was a new life. And part of you had to guiltily acknowledge Levi’s demise as a stepping stone to that contentment.

You didn’t know what to make of Levi’s final actions. It wasn’t a feeling of gratitude, but a sort of begrudging awareness that every journey has a price. Whether selling yourself to the highest bidder, or exacting emotional interest on a debt that required payment, there would always be a punishment for the crime. More and more, you wondered if that debt was housed in humanity or Divinity. Dostoyevsky seemed to have an understanding, but it seemed beyond your own machinations. All you knew was that you were currently reaping the benefits of a life well-lived, and whatever suffering the future held, you would encounter it; together. Levi was a distant part of your past that had reared its ugly head, and despite the current existential respite, a certain foreboding crept on the horizon. You just hoped you could be unafraid and meet it head on.

And so the days turned into weeks, and things began to resume a certain post-apocalyptic normalcy. School resumed, the spring harvest was well underway and the Bookshop was slated to officially open to the rest of the commune in a matter of weeks. In the interim, Tommy had successfully traded for more resources at Elk Creek and Joel was looking sturdier on his feet, even adding a beautiful mahogany coffee table to the cozy bookshop atmosphere. It wasn’t until Ellie came home one day after school that the darkening clouds of confrontation began to assemble.

“We’re havin’ a dinner” she began, under Joel’s watchful stare.

“What’dya mean ‘we’re havin’ a dinner’?” he parroted with suspicion, as you quietly prepared food in the background.

“I mean, Maria and Tommy came by The Bookshop while you were out and invited themselves over for dinner sometime” Ellie bluntly stated, shifting awkwardly. Joel cleared his throat authoritatively, mirroring her discomfort.  

“What for?” Joel questioned, his eyes narrowing skeptically.

“They said it was just to catch up on commune responsibilities, and see how you were doing. But you know how Maria is” Ellie observed. You felt the bristle of tension move through the kitchen as you stirred the evening stew.

“Maybe…you could invite Dina?” you offered, trying to lighten the mood before Joel and Ellie both vociferously objected.

“No (just) way (family)” their voices clashed aggressively as your eyebrows shot up with surprise. The kitchen deadened to an uncomfortable silence.

“I…kind of expected them to come by…sooner…” you trailed off, hesitant to voice everyone’s concern. Tommy’s presence in the hospital had been unrelenting, and you didn’t doubt their current intentions for a millisecond. But Maria was besieged with plans for the upcoming delivery and commune responsibilities. And Ellie’s confession…

“Just say it” Ellie proffered bitterly. “It’s my fault”.

“Absolutely (FIDDLESTICKS!) not” this time you and Joel cascaded in a heap of protestations. The silence awkwardly returned.

“Fiddlesticks?” Ellie coyly smirked, tilting her head towards Joel jokingly. You heaved a sigh of relief, chuckling under your breath.

“I TOLD you to tell ‘em” Joel encouraged, nodding his head defiantly. “Didn’t say it was gonna be easy though”. The pots of food bubbled precariously on the stove, much like the pressurized conversation. “Alright, tell ‘em to come over tomorrow night” Joel said definitively glancing in your direction.

“No bramble berry wine this time” you wisely observed, returning to your dinner tasks. This reunion was long overdue, and there was nothing to fear. Just time with family. Your newfound family. Nothing to worry about. But as you and Joel plated the prepared dinner, you couldn’t help but wonder; what newfound challenges were the three of you headed into this time?

Joel hugged you against his side tightly, nestled comfortably in the darkened bedroom. Ellie had already gone to sleep upstairs, and with your leg hung loosely over Joel’s legs you sighed contentedly as his mellifluous voice lulled you into a pleasant drowsiness.

“And yet he was ashamed, even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous brought manner. His pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh how happy he would have been if he could’ve blamed himself. He could have borne anything the, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely. Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all the play before him. What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why? He had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for hope, even for a fancy. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others. He suffered too from the question; why had he not killed himself? Was the desire to live so strong and was it so hard to overcome it? In misery he asked himself this question and could not understand. He didn’t understand that consciousness might be the promise of a future crisis, of a new view of life and of his future resurrection.”

Joel paused to remove his reading glasses and scratched at a small scar you had noticed, situated just to the side of his face. You delicately reached up to stroke it, but his head jerked away as his hand swatted your attentions to the side. It was uncharacteristically curt of him, and your body crumpled aside him with embarrassment. He turned to look at you apologetically, his lips tightening to a narrow line of reticence.

“I’m fine. Don’t need your nursin’ anymore…” he attempted to explain, but the words only seemed to seep into your skin with a heavy poison. You drew your body away from him in confusion as he dropped the book to bring you back to his side. “Wait. I didn’t mean that” he whispered, dipping his head to the crook of your neck, his beard bristling at the tender skin of your decoupage. You giggled quietly, pleased that the misunderstanding was short-lived. There were still many unseen scars that might never completely heal, but you were thankful to be with a man like Joel who didn’t shy away from the ones you also possessed. You didn’t have long to think about it, as Joel’s lips dragged achingly slowly across your neck and nibbled at your jawline. “Enjoyin’ the final chapter of ‘Crime and Punishment’” he teased, mumbling into your breastbone, as his hands found their way to your backside, squeezing gently.

“Oh absolutely…” you drawled, gripping him tightly against you and drawing your fingers across his back seductively. “It’s so visceral, I don’t remember the epilogue being so alluring when I read it in college” you joked, feeling Joel’s body titter with laughter against you. 

“Must be the company” he smiled, looking lovingly into your eyes. You reached up to stroke his face sweetly.

“What are we gonna do about the dinner?” you sighed, the sudden intake of air signifying his trepidation as much as your own.

“Don’t know” Joel bluntly stated, leaning back on his side of the bed and looking up at the ceiling. He took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his own as you both lay still in the quiet bedroom. “Maria doesn’t know….everything” he began, the bed creaking awkwardly under his shifting weight. “Nobody really does”. You held your breath tentatively, as though waiting for permission. There had been so many indicators of a tension unresolved; a type of secret that was infecting even the healthiest of relationships and desires.

“Something at the hospital?” you whispered, longing to press Joel further, but hesitant to force the matter. Joel’s head shifted quickly in your direction, as though telepathically imploring you to clairvoyantly understand. The moments passed laboriously slow, as an old wooden clock ticked loudly in the corner. You drew Joel’s hand to your heart, breathing quietly as you looked into his eyes. “You saved her” you recounted from Joel’s previous delirium, his eyes closing abruptly in remembrance. A pained look crossed his features as you waited patiently.

“That day…in the hospital….with the Fireflies…” Joel began, as though dragging the words through the mud with every suffering syllable. “We lost so much on the journey to bring her back…” he observed, thinking about Tess, and Sam and so many others on their meandering sojourn. “Ellie wanted her immunity…to help others. To save us all….” Joel opened his eyes once again, a newfound tear cascading down the side of his face as he turned to meet your gaze. “But if I had known I was deliverin’ her to death’s door, I never woulda stopped runnin’” he confessed, gripping your hand tenaciously in his own.

“But the raiders, they attacked you. You saved her. Even if she’s immune, there are others. Let others worry about it…” you remembered from Ellie’s description at Joel’s bedside. What part of the story were you missing? Your voice hung questioningly in the silence as Joel swallowed dryly under the heat of your stare.

“What if I told you….” he paused, shuddering slightly on the next inhale “…there weren’t no raiders at the hospital that day?”. You blinked confusedly, eyeing him with skepticism.  Joel sighed heavily, as though battling a silent war within himself. The clock’s ticking thudded in dull, oppressive strokes as you watched his shoulders tighten in immeasurable tension. He brought his hand tiredly over his face, rubbing at his temples and scowling with indecision. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He looked like he was going to be sick, and you wondered if his wound had in fact healed properly, or if he were nursing another fever. He drew in a shaky breath to steady himself before muttering, “Can’t keep this secret anymore….s’gonna kill me. Or kill Ellie in the process…” his voice cracked, steeling himself for the long overdue confession.

“The Fireflies nearly killed her at the hospital that day” he whispered raspily, shaking his head from side to side. “Wasn’t gonna let nobody hurt my girl…not again” he said, almost to himself, as you tried to grapple with this new information. You bit your lip in consternation, trying to assemble the details as Joel laid them out.

“They tried to….extract her immunity, and apparently her life was a small price to pay for it” he pleaded with you finally, wringing your hand between his own in supplication. Your eyes widened with awareness as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “So I killed ‘em. I killed them all”. You mouth fell open in surprise, finally processing Joel’s many enigmatic reactions over the last several months. He was a murderer. You were in love with a murderer. 

Joel seemed to sense your growing apprehension as he pulled back slightly in self-revulsion. “There aren’t no others. It’s just her that’s immune. And Ellie doesn’t know”. Your breath seemed to stop with trepidation, as he nearly collapsed back against the headboard with exhaustion. A myriad of thoughts were pummeling you into disorientation, but Joel was the anchor holding you in place. You gripped his hand more tightly, cupping his face with your other palm, watching his lips tremble apologetically. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing” he muttered over and over again, as you flung yourself into his arms. No one could know. For Joel’s sake. For Ellie’s sake. For your own. The only possible redemption resided in this secret confession, but that’s as far as it could be allowed. The only other thing that remained was to suffer in silence. And so that’s what you did. For the rest of the night, you held one another in the silence of that horrible realization. Ellie was immune. And she was alone. But there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done about it.

The next morning passed wordlessly as the Miller household was submerged in a state of tension. Ellie was appropriately worried about the upcoming dinner, but you and Joel held the suspension of disbelief, knowing the additional gravity of the situation. Maria was a bloodhound when it came to the truth, territorially motivated by the continued survival of the commune, and viscerally impassioned with the upcoming birth of her child. After Ellie’s hospital confession, the five of you held a special connection that seemingly surpassed that of bloodlines and family, but would that information be enough to leave things as they were? You spent the day, avoiding Ellie’s stare in class, and rushing home to prepare the simple dinner. 

Before you knew it, dusk was upon you as you observed Tommy and Maria slowly making their way across the blossoming field, leading up the Miller household. You felt your stomach anxiously lurch, suddenly wishing that you and Joel had discussed a plan of action. But for better or worse, the conversation was now imminent as Tommy and Maria approached the landing. Ellie looked like she was standing in front of a firing squad, pressing her plaid shirt staunchly against her rigid body. Joel make quick eye contact with you, as he crossed the living room and opened the door to their overt smiles.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tommy immediately intoned, bursting through the door and embracing his brother strongly. Joel winced, ever so slightly, his abdominal wound mostly healed, but the surrounding muscles tender and sensitive. Maria patted her stomach empathically, rounding the corner and immediately catching Ellie in a somewhat stilted, but well-intentioned embrace. “I’m starving!” Maria enthusiastically exclaimed, though you secretly wondered if there were an ulterior agenda to the evening’s discussion. You finished setting the table, and enjoyed a round of placated small talk; recent trade at Elk Creek, the upcoming Spring Harvest Dance, preparation for Maria’s upcoming delivery. The banter began to die down as the conversation turned to more pressing matters.

“Joel, how have you been feeling this last month?” Maria began, innocently enough, but the shift in the mood was apparent.

“I hate to say it, but my resident nurse has proven real helpful…” Joel smiled, a tinge of distrust flickering across his eyes that only you were privy to, as he took your hand with encouragement. “I’ll be ready for patrols, as soon as you give the word” he offered, nodding succinctly, hoping to end the conversation there.

“About time to get your sorry ass back out in the field” Tommy joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Try not to get killed this time” he teased, kicking his brother’s foot good-naturedly under the dinner table.

“And what about you, Ellie?” Maria’s voice gained a syrupy sweetness that immediately brought Levi to mind. What was her intent? “How have you been feeling since our….discussion at the hospital?” Joel’s hand immediately stiffened in yours, his head whipping over to Ellie watchfully.

“I’m ready for patrols too!” Ellie chirped, gripping the table energetically. “Joel can tell you, I’m real capable with a knife, or a gun…” she beamed, as Joel bit back a protective reprimand.

“Oh no, I think you’re far too valuable to risk out on patrol” Maria ventured, under Tommy’s imploring gaze. “It’s not every day you meet someone with immunity” she tried to observe matter-a-factly before Joel slammed his fist in to the dinner table abruptly.

“Goddamit Maria, now you know that’s not up for discussion!” Joel spat, his body becoming a taut representation of feral rage. Maria gripped her swollen belly protectively as Tommy shifted in his seat with embarrassment. 

“It’s just family, Joel” Tommy quietly intoned, nodding in your direction. “Right, Teach? Just hear her out for a sec’” he pleaded, drawing a hand to Maria’s back affectionately as Joel attempted to calm down. The water in the nearby pitcher was still sloshing from side to side as the table sat in relative unease.

“What do you wanna know?” Ellie muttered, her face becoming stoic and steely under Maria’s hopeful countenance.

Maria didn’t hesitate a moment, as month’s of pent up inquisition and curiosity tumbled out of her mouth haphazardly. “Well, you said you were immune, and there were others that shared that ability. But you haven’t found a way to share that immunity? Have you tried a blood transfusion? What about studying your DNA?”

“Maria” Joel growled as he fisted the tablecloth, threatening to upset the entire dinner table this time.

“Honey, can’t we just let sleeping dogs lie?” Tommy beseeched his wife, lowering his gaze to the floor with humiliation.

“I’m just asking a question, Tommy” she bitterly retorted. “Don’t you want your baby to grow up in a commune that’s safe, and protected from EVERY horror this world has to offer?”. She took a deep breath and rested her attention on Ellie once again. “Well, honey, what’ve you got to say for yourself?” 

Ellie’s face nearly curled in a snarl, sensing Joel’s brimming rage and your helplessness in the face of the truth. “It’s no use” she began, holding Maria’s gaze with an unflinchingly cold stare. “I’ve lost countless people that my immunity could never save. Riley, Tess, Sam….None of it made any difference. I was stupid to think the Fireflies could do better. But Joel will tell you. We tried everything, and when that didn’t work, the raiders came and destroyed everything and everyone that got in their way. I’m no damn good to the people I love. Just another god-forsaken human in this shit-show of an existence. And it doesn’t matter if that baby lives to grow old, he better learn to take care of himself, because he won’t be gettin’ any goddam help from the world around him”.  Maria’s face fell with disappointment, nodding slightly with acceptance as Tommy took her hand encouragingly. You bit back a sob, hearing Ellie’s bleak outlook on life in this post-apocalyptic hell. Joel could never tell her the truth about that day. She was already so alone, his apparent betrayal would only serve to isolate her further still. Ellie MUST be kept alive. Looking over at Joel’s graying visage, you wished it didn’t come at such a high cost.

“So that’s it” Maria muttered, touching her belly lightly, her eyes still lowered to the ground. “Joel, are you sure you’re not hiding anything else?” she asked one final time, fixing him with an interrogative stare. You held your breath with anticipation as the room caught Joel in a heated stare. Maria would NOT back down. Either her desperation was so intense or her maternal nature was in intuitive overdrive, it seemed only a force of nature would deter her at this point.

“Well, I guess you caught me…” Joel began, drawing your concern and Ellie’s questioning eyes in one fell swoop. This couldn’t be. You had to stop him from undoing the most difficult choice he had ever made in his life. 

“Teach and I are plannin’ on gettin’ married”.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, squeezing his hand so hard you wondered if he would need to revisit the doctor that evening. “Joel, are you sure?” the words fell out of your mouth as Ellie reverted back to a teenager of 17 years, giggling and clapping her hands enthusiastically, and Tommy began to beam broadly in periphery.

“Still workin’ on the wedding present, but yeah, I figure if you can put up with me and Ellie for the last several months, ya might be worth keepin’ around for good” Joel’s mouth curled in a mischievous grin as you sat yourself firmly on his lap, hugging him assuredly around the neck for good measure.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Tommy exclaimed, clapping his brother heartily on the shoulder and catching Maria’s knowing expression.

“I told you there was something he was hiding” Maria slowly mused, sighing with relief, and giving Ellie’s arm a soft squeeze of approval as a peace offering. You looked into Joel’s eyes searching for the smallest amount of doubt or hesitation, but found none there. It was something beyond your dreams, that even seemed to quell your nightmares. It was home.

Rascal the Cat sniffed awkwardly at every visitor, as the The Bookshop’s normally quiet atmosphere radiated light and love, the residents of Jackson Commune pouring in throughout the day. Joel stood behind the counter, stoically surveilling, but approachable nonetheless. His arms were folded neatly over his broad chest with skepticism, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, watching families and children make their way around the neatly organized and homey Bookshop. You and Ellie were on social duty, guiding families to the appropriate sections, the corner wood burning stove currently out of use as the Spring season began to thaw everything around it. You looked over at Joel whose statuesque stare was already beaming at your welcoming and warm presence. You could never have imagined this chain of events that first day you walked into his bookshop.

The Bookshop Bell rang jauntily as Tommy sauntered in with a fresh bouquet of lavender, immediately catching your eye and heading towards you. You finished your conversation with a nearby family as Tommy caught you in a familial embrace. “How are the plans comin’ Teach?” you admired the small freckles dotting his cheeks and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that reminded you of Joel. You’d never had a brother, but you were pretty sure this is what it felt like.

“Gosh, I haven’t even stopped to think!” you admitted, brushing a stray hair out of your face and grinning at the children that were good-naturedly chasing Rascal around the biographies section. “Honestly, a wedding ceremony is the last thing on my mind! We’ve got Spring evaluations for the students and I’m helping Ellie organize the Harvest Dance. But at least The Bookshop is finally up and running, and Joel can get back on patrol soon. What about you? How’s Maria?”

“Oh she insisted I leave her alone this afternoon, and sends her regards” Tommy handed you the bouquet, sheepishly tugging at the back of his neck with humility. “She’s just about to pop, and I think I’m driving her more nuts than usual” he confessed, squeezing your arm affectionately. “Just wanted to say, thanks for all your help around the commune, and gettin’ my elderly brother to soften up a little. Welcome to the family!” he leaned in conspiratorially as Joel eyed him suspiciously from the corner. “Don’t tell everyone what a big ole softie he actually is…”. You knowingly smiled, catching Joel’s inquiring gaze that immediately spread into a shit-eating grin. You hadn’t seen that look in a while, and you breathed a sigh of relief enjoying the settling Spring recreation. Maybe everything was going to be just fine. Tommy headed over to the front counter as Ellie caught your attention from the Classic Literature Section.

“Hey Teach, have you ever heard of a book called something like….The Miserables?” Ellie grimaced, skeptical at its existence.

“Les Miserables?” you pondered, glancing at the backroom. “Uhhh…does the musical count?”

Tommy lumbered up to the front counter as Joel finally melted from his stolid, sentry-like visage, relaxing under his brother’s sunshine countenance. “You old dog” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, looking around The Bookshop appraisingly. “I hate to say it, but….you done good. This is just what the commune needs, and seems like you got the best part of the deal” he watched you and Ellie disappear into the backroom, laughing together. “Ya gonna get her a ring?” his eyes twinkled sweetly, reaching over for Joel’s unfinished coffee and taking a swig, wincing at its potent bitterness.

“Not sure you noticed but we’re kinda in an apocalypse right now?” Joel huffed, defiantly placing his hands on his hips, and matching Tommy’s mischief. “HOWEVER, if you’ll put me back on patrols I can get to bartering for it” he gruffly stated. “Already got a wedding present. Do you want me build a city hall and get the appropriate paperwork while I’m at it?” he grabbed the coffee from Tommy’s hand and downed it in one gulp amidst Tommy’s chortling.

“I’m just glad to see you so happy again” Tommy acquiesced, looking around The Bookshop and nodding with encouragement. “Wasn’t but a few months ago, I was starting to think my brother right near lost his mind. Damn, you had me wonderin’ if you were joining up with the raiders, or vying for the Fireflies”. Joel’s eyes flashed a dangerous shade of black before his face returned to a jovial skepticism. “But all that time, you were just fixin’ to get married” Tommy teased. “How’s about some brotherly advice? Doesn’t seem near appropriate for this soon to be dad askin’ about Playboy magazine” his ears tinged a slight shade of red. “How’s about Home and Gardens? Or Women’s Health?” he balked, chewing at his lower lip. Joel heavily clapped a hand on his back looking over at Ellie affectionately.

“We’ll get you fixed up” he surmised. He hadn’t but circled the counter when a young man came running down the commune square, flinging open the door to The Bookshop with the telltale ringing of the doorbell. 

“Tommy, come quick! Maria already went to the infirmary after her water broke…and is screaming bloody murder! I ran as fast as I could…but you might nearly be a dad already!” he gasped between bouts of coughing and sputtering as the color completely drained from Tommy’s face and a tavern-like cheer went up in The Bookshop.

“Holy hell” Tommy muttered, standing still in paralysis, like a man sleepwalking until Joel shoved him towards the door.

“Ellie, get this man over to the infirmary before he damn near falls over” Joel beamed, gesturing for Ellie, and sending the three of them towards the door in a bumbling, talkative heap as you sidled up beside him. 

“Come on ‘Uncle Tommy’ you look like you’re about to lose your lunch!” Ellie joked, grabbing Tommy’s arm and driving him forward. “Say, do you know why one Father’s Day gift wasn’t better than another?” Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie wheeled Tommy out the door. “A tie. It was a tie” she guffawed, pulling Tommy down the street and towards his future, bright and beautiful.

The Bookshop twinkled with congratulations and laughter as families plotted on what to barter for their upcoming “purchases”. Taking Joel’s hand in yours you eyed the three of them stumbling down the commune square towards the infirmary and grinned with satisfaction.

“You know she would do anything for you” you mused, leaning against Joel’s body and sighing with contentment.

“I feel the same way” Joel agreed, smiling tiredly. “But she’s near grown up now. Won’t need me no more” he introspected wearily as Rascal the Cat looped himself around Joel’s ankles.

“Well, some of us still need you” you nuzzled his shoulder fondly as Joel turned, backing you up into one of the nearby bookshelves.

“Joel…” you whispered shyly, looking around The Bookshop with chagrin and remembering your first meeting with nostalgia.

“M’I not allowed to kiss my ‘soon-to-be-wife?” his cheeks flushed brightly as he gazed lovingly into your eyes.

“Fine by me” you smirked, digging your hands in to the front pockets of Joel’s jeans and eliciting a low, chuckle from his towering figure that was caging you in. “You know, it’s okay if that was a red herring or something” you deflected, admiring the swirling depths of feeling in Joel’s nearby shining eyes.

“How’s that?” Joel mumbled into your clavicle as you gripped him possessively around the neck, crumpling your body against him and blushing.

“Oh you know what I mean…If that was just to detour Maria, or if you have second thoughts, I’m not going anywhere” you mumbled before Joel pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

“Not havin’ second thoughts” he blunted stated before planting a searing kiss on your imploring lips that seemed to deaden the chaos in The Bookshop to a single pin prick of loving light. It was quite some time before the sound of the surrounding atmosphere trickled back into your hearing, as your eyes remained closed in a dizzying haze of romantic ebullience. Your eyelids finally fluttered open as Joel watched you keenly, placing both hands aside your face. He looked like he was about to kiss you again before his eyes darted up to the small metallic indentation in the bookshelf just above your head. “Well I’ll be damned” he whispered, digging a small bullet out of the corner and holding it in front of your face with some confusion.

“Expect the unexpected” you drolled, fitting your hips against his playfully.

“Come with me, Teach” Joel teased, pocketing the bullet and pulling you into the backroom. “Rascal, mind the store” he called behind him, meeting the cat’s quizzical expression. “Was gonna save this for our weddin’ night, but sounds like someone needs a little assurance” Joel said over his shoulder as he rummaged around his work space in the back. You enjoyed the fragrant smell of wood chips, coffee and tattered books, silently cataloguing the many resources you had yet to organize.

“S’just a start” he reddened, presenting a chiseled, hand made set of bookends labeled ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ in his outstretched hands before you threw yourself into his embrace.

“How long have you been working on this?” you giggled, seeing his copy of “Crime and Punishment” nearby at this desk.

“‘Bout as long as I’ve been workin’ on weddin’ vows” he grimaced, shaking his head from side to side. “Probably need to set the bar low, Teach” he self-deprecated, shrugging sheepishly.

“Is that your next homework assignment?” you taunted, picking up the book and turning to the most recent dog eared page. Joel took the book from your hands, clearing his throat timidly.

“Just tryin’ to learn from the best” he mused, reading aloud;

“How it happened, he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. At the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come. They wanted to speak, but could not; tears shone in their eyes. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other. What terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being. He knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all the agonies of the past? Everything, even his crime, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind. Under his pillow lay Sonia’s Bible, it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind; “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least…”. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it; that it would cost him great striving, great suffering. But that is the beginning of a new story-the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world to another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.”

Joel’s raspy voice trailed off, now lost in the curious expression of your eyes that danced with a newfound light. “A new story…” you whispered quietly, drawing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tender kiss.

A new story.

Dostoyevsky + the Slutty Knee

A big thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I really feel like I'm making progress with my health journey, but it's super slow going. The main thing that is keeping me creatively motivated is my art projects! I'm working on the final fiction for our "Crime and Punishment" series at Pedge's Bookshop, just in time for "The Last of Us Season 2". Don't forget to check out Joel's Jives if you would like the full participatory experience.

I think our next foray is going to be a one shot with Pena and J revolving around Pedro's recommendation, "What Happened to Belen?". And don't forget to check out our first fic for Pedge's Cinema "The Trailer" when Javi and J first meet. Grab your popcorn first however, the opening scene of "All About Eve" is soon to be started.

“Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most.” “–and suddenly, in the midst of my laughing, I’d give way to sadness, fall into ludicrous despondency and once again start the whole process all over again

“You never reach any truth without making mistakes. Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I'll kiss you for it. And what are we doing now? In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism, judgment, experience and everything, everything, everything, we are still in the preparatory class at school. We prefer to live on other people's ideas, it's what we are used to! Am I right?” “Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.” “Fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “What do you think, would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds?”

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge's Bookshop The Confession

Grab a Pastry! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "A Baker's Dozen" @avastrasposts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, implied PTSD/anxiety attack, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", sexy time snuggles, discussion of death/murder/suicide, nightmare, surgery recovery...This is the second to last installment of the series, which should place us at the ready for the LOU April release...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5 k

The long trek home had taken just under an hour, including pauses for water and grumbles as Ellie rambled continuously.

“Hey Joel…” Ellie’s voice distractedly interrupted from the sidelines, as Joel huffed and puffed at his very own doorstep. “What’s the fastest mode of transportation?”. Joel gripped the porch stairs doggedly, as perspiration dotted his forehead and your fingers dug into the side of his hip supportively.

“Shut the hell up….” Joel growled, his patience long since evaporated as he stubbornly made the slow journey from the infirmary to his community residence.

“Guess it’s not you…” Ellie muttered under her breath, before shouting quite loudly, “The bullet train!” she guffawed, as Joel took several halting steps up the porch before yanking the front door open huffily. His heavy laden feet nearly caught the lip of the doorframe as you both lurched into the living room, eventually depositing Joel on the tattered living room sofa, with as much gentility as an avalanche. You knew it was important for Joel to hold on to his stoic self-belief, but his current physical limitations had all but depleted whatever reserves Joel housed. He was completely exhausted, and you were keen to help him start the healing process as soon as possible.

“Looks like you finally made it home, old man!” Ellie’s voice was a bit strained as she attempted to ignore her own insecurities about Joel’s fragile state. You smirked, knowing that her prodding was probably the best medicine for his combative soul. Maybe when things quieted down, you could offer the rest and relaxation Joel so desperately needed in contrast. “You seem barrel-y able to contain your excitement…get it? Barrel?” Ellie plopped down beside Joel on the couch eliciting a wince from his heated and pained expression.

“Jesus, Ellie I’ll be lucky if my stitches don’t rip, will ya give me a minute?” he grumbled, looking down at his abdomen tenderly, hesitant to examine the wrappings beneath his perspiration soaked flannel. It wasn’t everyday that a commune resident was recovering from surgery, let alone a gunshot wound, but after a week in the infirmary, Joel was nearly crawling out of his skin. Determined to go it alone, he had stubbornly refused a cane or wheeled transport of any kind, but had quickly ascertained the difficulty of his aspirations. Even with the commune’s significant stock of penicillin, it was going to prove a difficult month. He might have already done some damage, and he wasn’t even in his own bed yet. Joel gritted his teeth even harder.

“Sorry” Ellie finally quieted with a defeated tone. You reached up tenderly to wipe the sheen of sweat off his brow, as Joel closed his eyes tiredly, laying back slightly against the sofa. He was feeling every bit his 57 years, as a few stars dotted the periphery of his darkened vision. This might be something that tenacity alone couldn’t mend, and he would be grateful for all the help he could get, once he caught his breath. You watched Ellie’s countenance drop as the gravitas of the last week started to catch up to her. Joel remained unaware, so you offered a tight lipped encouragement from the other side of the couch. You would all get through this together. Some things just took time.

“I could go to the Tipsy Bison and get your favorite whiskey?” Ellie ventured, sitting up with the possibility of a task at hand. Joel smiled tiredly, his forehead already relaxing from the daunting escapades of the day.

“No way in hell they’ll give it to a kid…” his words slurred a bit as his body sank further into the couch.

“Wanna bet?” Ellie popped up jauntily from the couch, excited to put her pent up tension to beneficial use. “I’ll just tell ‘em we need it…medicinally…” as she headed out the door with confidence. You smirked with relief, glad to finally have Joel at home and resting for the entire month. The bullet hadn’t nicked any major arteries, and had avoided his organs, but the muscles were going to take at least a month to begin the mending process, and outside of antibiotics, there weren’t very many painkillers that the commune could offer. You were about to expand your expertise from teaching to nursing, and didn’t mind one bit. Joel’s breath steadied evenly in his chest as you delicately stroked his forehead and scalp soothingly. Content to stay there for the rest of the evening, you watched his face carefully for the next 15 minutes before his body jerked awake with newfound adrenaline. His eyes flashed with temporary disorientation before clasping your hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

“Had the worst nightmare…Somebody shot me, and Ellie wouldn’t shut up” he drawled, closing his eyes again and massaging your hand with affection. Leave it to Joel to be joking and taking care of other people, when he was the one in pain.

“Oh that would never happen…” you relaxed into the side of his body, tilting your head against his shoulder with ease. “Ellie is so soft spoken…” you teased, noticing the graying dusk of early evening begin to shadow against the living room window. “Think we can get up the stairs to bed, mister?” you questioned, giving a light kiss to the edge of his broad shoulder before catching his beleaguered and mischievous expression. 

“Thought you’d never ask, Teach.”

Certainly, this wasn’t the time to be indulging particularly fantasies in the bedroom, but you couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate the closeness this might provide for you and Joel. It took another 30 minutes to hesitantly ascend the stairs, but you finally deposited Joel in his bed and began removing his boots amidst his protestations. 

“Will ya quit babying me? I’m fine…” Joel complained, starting to unbutton his flannel and gaze curiously at the wrappings across his abdomen. Your eyes greedily took in the hair peppering his broad chest and belly button, up until the area shaved from surgery. You gulped hungrily, wrenching his boot off and depositing it at the foot of his bed.

“Are you going to be this ornery the entire month?” you accused, not altogether surprised. You had interacted with many a stubborn man, but Joel seemed to take the cake. The stauncher the patient the harder the fall, you surmised, batting Joel’s hand away and exploring the wrappings yourself. There was a bit of spotting from the arduous transport, and Joel was due for dinner and a round of penicillin. “How much are you going to argue if I suggest a sponge bath?”. Joel’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers, as he grew immediately self conscious of his body and glistening skin. His cheeks reddened slightly as he considered the possibility.

“I mean…I don’t…complain about everything…” his visage gained a boyish quality as he bit his lip and started fumbling with the nearby blankets. You smiled appreciatively. Score. Most men were big teddy bears, after they raged against the dying of the light. You peeled the wrappings back as Joel pouted bitterly.

“Alright, let’s get some food in you so you can take your medicine, and then we’ll make sure someone is set and cozy for bed” you offered, before Joel desperately grabbed at your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

“I….’preciate it” he managed to get out reservedly, as his eyes finally softened in the darkening room.

“My pleasure” you countered, leaning in for a tender kiss before heading downstairs to the kitchen, and stopping at the door way. “DON’T…” Joel paused mid exploration as you leveled your eyes skeptically in his direction “…paw at those wrappings until I come back, understand?”

“Yes’m” he quipped, though you weren’t entirely sure if he were joking. With or without Joel’s help, you were going to relish your new role as private commune nurse.

The days passed slowly, but delightedly as you nursed Joel back to health. The surgery had preceded your normal Spring Break, but in an unexpected turn of events, the commune had allowed you and Ellie to assign reading and creative projects on a weekly basis. With your permission, Ellie had even assembled class for a few hours once a week to help the students’ progress. You grinned, imagining Ellie’s lack of diplomacy as she regaled you with her first foray into instruction, accidentally making one student cry over math permutations and counseling another on the finer points of dealing with bullying. Apparently her first admonition was to just ‘punch the sucker right in the nose’, but having thought better of the ramifications for an eight year old, eventually encouraged them with subtler points from “Crime and Punishment”. You chuckled sweetly, rolling your eyes as Ellie sat on the edge of Joel’s bed, recounting the school day's events. 

“That’s my girl…” Joel nodded curtly, looking helplessly around the room and picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” once again. Within the week, he had caught up to Ellie’s literary progress and both of them were nearing the completion. Mostly absorbed with Joel’s recovery and the ongoing school year, you hadn’t yet broached the tender topic of Elk Creek or any of the unresolved questions that Ellie’s previous confession had elicited. 

She was immune. But how far did that immunity extend? How long would it last? And most importantly, was there any way her immunity could be duplicated? You didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and alongside the immediate concern of Joel’s well-being and emotional wellness, you couldn’t perseverate too long. But if the three of you wanted a future together, there were some tough conversations ahead. Maybe you could help in more ways than just soup and sponge baths.

“How’s The Bookshop holdin’ up?” Joel asked for the umpteenth time, shifting awkwardly in the bed and grumbling at his limitations. He hated feeling helpless, and it was taking every iota of his strength to remain sedentary in the recovery process.

“Pretty good. Think we’re about ready for openin’ whenever you are” Ellie guessed, drawing the blanket between her fingers appraisingly. “Rascal might even host if you’re not feelin’ up to it” she joked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back smugly. 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell ‘fore that happens” Joel’s drawl intensified as he sat up taller, attempting to hide the momentary discomfort of shifting positions. Recovery was hard enough, but with no pain killers, you didn’t envy Joel’s challenging position. You were glad to help in any way that you could, watching Ellie’s face falter with hesitation.

“Shit, I forgot to feed him after class today” she observed, shrugging guiltily before standing up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” she playfully punched Joel’s outstretched foot before squeezing your shoulder warmly and heading downstairs.

“Maybe sweep the floor while you’re there!” Joel called after, before grinning sheepishly in your direction. “Builds character…” he joked, settling further back in the bed, and patting the space beside him. “Back to our reading nook?” he tantalized, grabbing the pair of glasses he used for reading and lovingly fingering the pages of “Crime and Punishment”. You all but squealed with delight, being careful not to jostle the bed too wholeheartedly and delicately placed yourself in the crook of his embrace, resting your head softly on his shoulder. Draping your leg tentatively over his you sweetly placed a hand near his abdomen, willing the recent wound to continue mending. This wasn’t the moment for sexual intimacy, but sharing this last week with Joel had offered a tenderness your past relationships never could. You sighed contentedly as Joel returned to his reading selection.

“Don’t give Snake Eyes that goofy accent again” you chided, giggling quietly to yourself as Joel looked down his spectacles at you with skepticism. 

“Don’t like my Russian accent darlin’?” he teased, rocking you slightly and grunting with the effort. Joel cleared his throat and began again as you relaxed into him. 

“He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses. It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross, he laughed. As though I had not suffered much till now! Well, now I am going to prison and you'll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don't. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all! But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. Why is she grieving too? he thought to himself. What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me? I am a murderer. He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot. Raskolnikov at that moment felt and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his heart…”.

Joel sighed heavily, looking down at your resting face, expecting you to perhaps be asleep, but a single tear was cascading down your cheek as he reached down to wipe it away. “My reading’ that bad darlin’?” he coo’ed, wondering at your emotion. Your voice came out more raspy than you intended, but the moment was upon you. “Joel…Can you tell me what happened on the way back to Elk Creek? How did…?” your voice stalled with hesitation, finally motivated by desperation and curiosity. “How did Levi die?”.

Joel swallowed dryly, taking off his glasses and setting the book down. “You sure you want to know?” he began, gripping your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. You nodded solemnly, your glassy eyes radiating in the late afternoon sunlight. Joel nodded once and continued. “It was the damndest thing. The whole trip he was like a mockingbird in a lonely meadow. Jabbering on and on, and asking questions about us. Not hardly makin’ any sense. Didn’t think I could feel sorry for that man, but he seemed right emptied out. Like he couldn’t think of anything worth living for” Joel paused, shaking his head with confusion. “Had to bite my tongue multiple times to keep from suggesting a quick exit, until….” Joel's breath hitched violently in his chest as he squirmed slightly with the memory of it.

“Until what?” you whispered, terrified to discover the revealing truth of that fateful day.

“Never thought I’d see a man more lonely than me” Joel observed, hugging you all the tighter against his side as you snuggled in for warmth. “Made me realize what my life could look like without you and Ellie at my side. We had our backs up against a wall, and Levi’s men were scattering left and right. And I saw it. Whatever flicker of rage or passion or fight he had left, just evaporated right in front of me. He ran headlong into the swarm of infected and that was the end of that”. The proceeding silence hung in the air morosely as you considered Joel’s words carefully. Death by clicker. What a way to go. Seemed counterintuitive to think of Levi as any kind of Savior. But maybe realizing that himself, Levi executed the only action that made any sense.

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” Joel muttered under his breath, almost to himself as you shivered coldly. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that very moment and it wasn’t a few minutes later you were drifting into a heavy sleep, weighed down by the confusion and exhaustion of the last several weeks, held firmly against Joel’s side protectively.

You couldn’t reach him. Struggling through a maelstrom of acidic fog you coughed and sputtered in the fluorescent glow. Where the hell were you? The entire bog seemed to reek of a sulphuric bitterness, you couldn’t escape. The books were crumbling, your willpower was waning. Weighted down by a nearly paralytic heaviness, you reached forward as a hand grasped yours firmly. Drawing it towards you, you saw the deteriorating and skeletal face of Levi, his bony fingers, interwoven with yours, pulling you down and down and down. The sticky atmosphere was muffling your cries as you sank further and further into the quicksand of ever increasing doubts…

Joel. Joel. Joel….

You jerked awake, finding yourself in the twilight of dusk, particles of dust floating through the air in hazy delicacy. Thank God. Joel. You turned to look at him in solace, but were crestfallen to see his own tumultuous sleeping expression, perspiring under the heated upstairs oppression. In sleep, his fingers twitched nervously at his sides as you swallowed dryly. “Joel?” you rasped ineffectively, his lips pursing in unknown words and nightmarish phrases. You tenderly reached up to touch his shoulder, remember your first encounter in the Bookshop. You didn’t want him to needlessly suffer, but PTSD was an exacting beast. You tried to gently rouse him from his torment, wondering where Ellie was and if you should call the commune doctor, when Joel’s eyes flew open wildly in horror. He immediately grasped his chest with terror, his breath hitching violently in his chest as you timidly placed your hand over his.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” you breathed steadily and soothingly as his eyes shakily found yours in the darkening upstairs bedroom. “You’re safe. With me. We are safe. Together”. You felt the strength of his heart beating powerfully against his ribcage as his mouth struggled to draw in one shaky breath after another. “Easy, easy…” you felt like you were coaxing a stallion or nursing a wounded animal. There were so many nightmares to choose from, how could you help one another escape?

“Ellie told you” Joel’s voice creaked out of him, as though on a wiry hinge, textured with gravel and broken glass.

“Told me what, honey?”

“Told you ‘bout the Fireflies…” Joel closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against a barrage of memories and unbidden images.

“She finally told us, in the hospital…” you began, before Joel sat up abruptly.

“The hospital…” he gasped, moving stiffly, attempting to get out of the bed.

“You’re not in the hospital anymore…you’re here with me…” you grasped him fervently around the chest, hesitant to rip any more stitches.

“You don’t….understand…”. He seemed almost delirious as you looked helplessly around the room for support.

“Will you lay still for me? Please? Let me get you a cold washcloth…” you negotiated, feeling his heartbeat ticking heavily and strongly against your forearm.

“They’re dead. All of ‘em.” his voice rumbled against your arm forebodingly as you paused in your struggle with him.

“Who, Joel? The infected? The raiders?” Joel continued to struggle against you, as you carefully straddled his hips with as much force as possible. “Honey, you’re gonna rip your sutures if you keep wrestling like that, can you please breathe for me?” you were reaching a point of desperation, amazed at Joel’s strength, even in repose, but determined to bring him back into the land of the living.

“I’m a murderer” he spat, writhing beneath you forcefully as you pushed down on his shoulders as hard as you could. You tried to ignore his words, recognizing his feverish incapacity, but startling nonetheless. The apocalypse had included so much death, what could he possibly be referring to? “In the hospital…I saved HER. I killed them all…”. He wasn’t making any sense; you had to get his fever to break.

“Joel, lie still!” your voice echo’d through the house authoritatively. You absentmindedly wondered if Ellie were within earshot as Joel immediately stilled in awareness of the edge in your voice. His pupils narrowed to a focused pinpoint as he grasped your face emphatically with both hands.

“The Fireflies” he wheezed, perspiration now dripping down the sides of his temples profusely. “They found out about Ellie’s immunity…and they tried….to kill her…in the hospital…” his words were a bit jumbled and halting, but the force of his desperation seemed to cut through the oppressive heat like a knife. This wasn’t an ongoing fever dream. Something about this was real. You gulped back tears of acknowledgement. “So I saved her….” his eyelids started to grow heavy with effort as his arms relaxed by his side. “I saved her…and killed me…”. His eyes shut with exhaustion, as his body finally stilled amidst the disheveled sheets, your body still atop him. His breathing eventually resumed an even pace, though his face seemed cemented in a pained expression of distress. You sighed with relief, checking his bandages, and wiping his forehead lightly with the sleeve of your shirt. But as you laid down next to him, the impact of his words hit you like a ton of bricks.

A murderer.

You could dismiss it, like his drunken admission. Another feverish nightmare, punctuated by an ill-advised confession. But. There was something about his words that seemingly rang true. And if it WERE true, who would know? And to what lengths would you go to protect the ones you loved? You gazed longingly at his profile, listening for sounds of Ellie in the empty house, but none materialized. 

It was just you, Joel…and the deadening silence of his confession.

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