akiyaswrites - Tumblr blog

akiyaswrites · 1 year

Text

The Wilder Love - A TLOU Fic

GIF by palioom

A 12-chapter fic where Joel and reader let out their angst related to a new settlement in Rexburg that threatens Jackson.

A slow burn, sex-heavy established relationship.

Fic follows the 12-song structure of Mumford & Son's album 'Wilder Mind' (2015). Chapters are named after song titles and will loosely follow the author-inferred/created stories from song lyrics. Fic occurs in the time between TLOU 1 and TLOU 2. No use of y/n, but reader has a couple of nicknames throughout. Fic does not fully follow canon events from show/game and can be read as a standalone piece of fiction. Will include spoilers from TLOU 1/Season 1. Also my first fic, yay!

Chapter 1: Tompkins Square Park

Suggested Song: Tompkins Square Park (Mumford & Sons, 2015)

You've been with Joel since he saved your life a year and a half ago. Knowing your past, Joel is protective of you, doing everything he can to keep you safe. You can take care of yourself, but you know when to let Joel have his way, too.

Joel pulls you to his side, the thick pads of his digits pressing into your hip bone. “Meet me at the park tonight, darlin’?” He pushes his fingers further into your skin, pulling you towards him so your waists are touching.

“‘Course,” you say, leaning your head into his chest. Joel used his free hand to glide his fingers up and down your forearm.

“2100 hours,” he whispered, tilting his chin down to gently kiss your forehead. “Tompkins Square Park.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to pull yourself away from him.

“Go, baby,” he whispers in his low, guttural tone. He gives you one final squeeze on your hip and pushes you away. “I’ll see you there.”

You turn around and begin to walk away, feeling a ball of desire fill your stomach. You would have him take you here and now, if you could, but there are other people on this route, and Joel doesn’t like an audience. Even to touch you with people around was a lot for Joel. He has a radius that he stays within, and you respect it.

This is the Joel you’ve come to know over the last year and a half. You’d heard stories of him before, of course, but he didn’t become real until he found you outside of the gates of Jackson, half dead and freezing. It was stupid to try and make it to Jackson in February, but you had to try. You had spent ten years in Nebraska, scrounging off the remnants of a once thriving Omaha. Nebraska was where you found yourself, found your people. Your community was close knit. Geographically, Omaha was big, much larger than the small town you came from in Oklahoma. The city was walled in, and most people lived along Dodge. Downtown was for the higher ups of the city, many of them residing in what was left of the dorms at Creighton.

You were happy in Omaha. You had friends, you had fuck buddies, and you had a life. A routine.

…

One cold November night, you were running a solo between Memorial Park and W. 72nd. It was still new to you - being trusted to run your routes solo. Carson, who usually ran your routes with you, had been promoted to running routes outside of the city. He was excited, but you knew his promotion only came from the spite of Annabelle, who caught the two of you doing more work than necessary on your route.

Carson radioed in. “How’s it going, Shockwave?”

Shockwave. His nickname for you. “Fuck off, Carson.” You hadn’t fully forgiven him for how he acted when Annabelle caught the two of you. He had pinned the situation on you, telling Annabelle that you came onto him.

“Oh, come on, princess. I thought you’d be over that by now.” His words burned in your throat. You had truly started to like the guy, only for him to care more about the opinion of a spineless leader.

“What do you want, Copperhead? Are the outskirts getting too boring for you?”

“Nah, we got to burn a bunch of infected fuckers in Papillion. Plenty to do out here.” Plenty to do out here. But not you.

“And you called me for what, exactly?” You were growing tired of Carson’s antics. He was interrupting your route, and you wanted nothing more than to get home before dark.

“Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess. How’s UNO?” The University of Nebraska at Omaha. Supposedly once the commuter kid party school, now just abandoned slum housing.

“Fine, I guess. Looks like it always does. Finished up my rounds there a while ago.”

“Okay,” Carson said, his voice hoarse. “You going to that thing at Bailey’s later?”

Before you could answer, a squeal rang through the radio. “Shit!” you yelled, hoping the noise didn’t attract any infected. “What the hell, Carson?” Carson didn’t answer, but you could make out muffled sounds on the radio. “This isn’t funny, Carson!”

Deep, ragged breaths began to ring out over the radio. “Shockwave?” Carson said, his voice distorted through the static. “Shockwave, you need to get here! NOW!”

“Where the hell are you?!”

“Gene Leahy! Fuck, we’re completely surrounded by infected. I don’t know how they got here. Oh, fuck. It’s bad, Shockwave.”

You were nearly to W. 72nd. The mall was over five miles away. There was no way you could make it.

“Carson, what are you talking about? Why are you over there?!”

“We took the long way home. Wanted to see the river. Thought it’d be clear over here.” Another distorted squeal rang through the radio. “They’re everywhere. Holy shit.”

There was a long silence. “Carson?” Nothing came through on the radio. “Carson!”

You switched channels, trying to radio Annabelle.

“Annabelle! Where the fuck are you?”

Static emitted through the radio. You had never been so happy to hear static. “He’s dead. Everyone is fucking dead,” Annabelle said. “And I’m next. I always hated you, Shockwave. Don’t forget it.”

The attack took seven lives. It was everyone you knew, or cared to know, even Annabelle. The higher ups couldn’t fight worth shit, and you knew your time in Omaha was done. Council Bluffs wasn’t worth your time, and you weren’t going to cross the river like a fucking idiot after what happened to Carson.

You had heard about a settlement in Jackson. Some guy traveled the country with his cargo-turned-family to find his brother there. Or something like that. It was a real settlement, though. Not like the makeshift aristocracy that Omaha had become.

Or so you hoped.

Jackson was nearly a thousand miles away, but you had to try. You didn’t know where else to go. Kansas City was fucked, and there was no way in hell you’d go back to Oklahoma. Sure, you’d be smart to go south for winter. But fuck that. You’re not Oklahoma anymore.

…

It took months to get to Jackson. The winter was brutal, and you had your fair share of run-ins along the way. You made it to South Park before you had any real casualties. A patch of ice took you down, and your arm was completely mangled. You hobbled your way to Jackson, trying to make the best out of shooting with your non-dominant hand. The snowfall kept coming like the flashbacks of Omaha, and you couldn’t keep going much further.

You sat against the base of a tree, trying to scrounge the snow for sticks you could use as a tourniquet. A fever set in, and pain overtook what the fever couldn’t. You’re not sure how long you were unconscious before Joel found you.

He found you, and he thought you were dead. “Tommy!” he yelled. “Found a body!”

You put all of your effort into opening your eyes. Your vision was blurred, but you could make out the body of a broad, gruff man. “Help,” you tried to say, but you’re not sure if anything came out besides a whine.

It was enough to get Joel’s attention. “Fuck,” he whispered, looking you over. You were covered in snow and bruises, and you hadn’t seen food or water in days. Joel turned away from you. “Tommy! She’s alive!”

“Help,” you tried to say again. It came out as a breathy plea. You were disoriented, but your vision was starting to focus. Joel was attractive. He was sturdy yet soft, and his voice was as rough as rapids. But you didn’t have time to think about that. Not now.

“I’ve got you. Don’t be scared. I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?” He knelt down to get a better look at you. Gently, he placed the back of his palm on your forehead. “Shit,” he whispered.

Tommy appeared behind him on horseback, guiding a second horse by the reins. “Bit?” he asked.

“Don’t think so,” Joel said, brushing a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. “Not from around here, though.”

“Oh-,” you tried to say. You swallowed hard, refusing to succumb to your injuries. “Omaha,” you breathed out, using the rest of your energy.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy said. “Joel, that’s the one we heard about before Christmas. Didn’t think anyone actually made it out of there.”

Joel scooped you up effortlessly. He tucked you close against his chest, failing to notice your shredded arm underneath the sleeve of your jacket. You yelped in pain. Freeing a hand, Joel gently pulled down the sleeve of your leather bomber jacket. Even the touch of your sleeve going down your arm was too much to handle. You began to lose consciousness again.

Tommy grimaced at the sight of your arm. “Compound fracture, and it doesn’t look like it's been treated at all. Don’t know if she’s gonna make it, Joel,” Tommy said, his tone concerned.

“She’s gonna,” Joel said firmly. It was the last thing you heard before you passed out in his arms.

…

It wasn’t the real Tompkins Square Park, of course. New York was months away. It was the nickname you’d given Joel’s quaint house here in Jackson. It had become more of a home than the one Maria helped you settle into after you healed.

The stories you’d heard about Jackson were true. It was a real settlement, or maybe it was just more than the shitshow you’d grown accustomed to. Joel really did have cargo-turned-family like you’d always heard in passing. Her name is Ellie, and she’s a good kid. She’s got her own routine here now. Sometimes she willingly sees Joel, other times she’s throwing daggers from her eyes at him. She fights well and has good friends. In a lot of ways, she reminds you of yourself when you first got to Omaha.

You glanced at your watch. Half an hour until Joel gets here. You thought about sitting on the porch, but that’s too obvious. You’re public, of course, you and Joel. You’d just prefer to not announce what you were waiting on to the entire street. You slid your hands into your jacket pocket and pulled out the spare key Joel gave you last year.

“Because I forget mine a lot,” he had said.

Because I want you to feel at home here, he had meant. He wasn’t one to spill his emotions or split at the seam. You had to learn to navigate him in the dark, learn his metaphors and quiet touches.

Once inside, you find a small pan and a family-size tea bag. You pull the empty pitcher from the fridge and light the stove. Joel goes through iced tea like he’s addicted, and you’ve taken it upon yourself to make a new batch when you notice he’s out. It’s just one more small thing you can do without making him feel overwhelmed.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Joel slip through the door. He wrapped his arm around your waist, making you jump.

“Sorry, sugar. Didn’t mean to scare you. Thank you,” he said, gesturing to the tea.

He moved away before you could reciprocate. He’s distant until he’s not, most of the time. You turn to look at him. He already sank into the recliner, working to take his boots off.

“How’d the rest of your route go? I didn’t have to leave, you know,” you said, trying not to push. You’ve been working a small sector west of Jackson lately. Sometimes, Joel’s attitude will suddenly shift, and he sends you home early. He promises you that he’s got everything under control and there’s nothing to worry about. Secretly, you know that something is bothering him.

“C’mere, baby,” Joel cooed, patting the arm of the recliner.

You clicked the burner off. The tea could wait. Slowly, you make your way through the archway from the kitchen to the lamp-lit den. You slide into Joel’s lap, his arms quick to wrap around you and pull you into his chest. Instinctively, you nuzzle your head on his shoulder. Joel strokes your hair, letting his fingers drape down your spine. The tips of his fingers dance with the hem of your shirt. Using his free hand, he tilts your chin toward his, cupping your jaw as he kisses you, slowly but fiercely. You can feel the fire starting in your stomach.

He releases your chin, dipping his head back into the recliner. His eyes close and you cocoon yourself into his arms. You kiss his neck and move a hand to his chest, rubbing small circles on his sternum.

“Mmmph,” he sighs through a heavy breath. He slides his hand under your shirt and up your back, eyes still closed. Gracefully, he unclasps your bra, letting the straps fall down your arms, trapping them under the loose sleeves of your shirt. “Get on top of me, darlin’.”

You could feel your heart jump into your throat. Joel adjusts his grip around your hips as you center yourself over his lap. He grabs your wrists and slides your arms around his neck, your hands resting on the back of the recliner. You lean in and press your lips to his cheek, breathing a dainty heat from across his cheekbone to the base of his ear.

When you center yourself again, Joel’s eyes are open, his hazel-brown irises looking deep inside of you. He slides his thumbs under the hem of your shirt and lifts. You raise your arms, letting him slip the shirt off of you and onto the floor. He makes quick work of your bra and throws it to the couch.

“And you,” you say to him, running your thumb under the collar of his shirt.

Without speaking, Joel leans forward, nuzzling his face into your chest. You reach down and slip his shirt up, running your thumbs along his ribs in the process. Like him, you throw his shirt to the couch.

“Shoulders, baby,” Joel commands softly. You follow his guidance, bracing your hands on his broad shoulders. “You know what to do.”

A grin appeared on your face, and you bit your lip in an attempt to hide it. You’ve been waiting all day for this. Slowly, you begin to grind your hips on Joel’s lap, feeling his bulk harden underneath you. Joel releases a throaty groan and pushes his face to your chest, taking in your breast. His lips are calloused, and you squirm at the feeling of his tongue on your nipple. You let out a heavy breath, and Joel responds by taking your free breast into his hand, massaging it in time with his tongue.

Your head tilts back and Joel pulls his mouth away, teasing. “That’s my girl,” Joel says, pulling you into his chest. You’ve craved the feeling of his skin on yours since you left his bed this morning. You sigh a sound of relief. Joel wraps his hands around your back, pressing you into his torso. His fingers begin to twirl around your back, latching through your belt loops and under the raised edge of your jeans. He tilts his head into your neck, kissing and sucking, trying hard to not leave marks.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine. “Gonna tease me all night?”

Joel laughed lightly into the skin of your neck. “And if I did, you’d love every second of it.” His fingers slip further inside your jeans and he presses a thumb into the base of your spine. You squirm at the pressure. “Oh, yeah,” Joel whispers. “I’d have you going all night.”

You grind your hips further into Joel’s lap, deep enough to feel his mass pulsing under his pants. “So take me,” you whine, burying your head into his shoulder.

“Mmmph,” Joel groaned again. But this time, it wasn’t a groan of pleasure.

You snap back to reality, centering yourself on Joel’s lap. “What?” You can feel your heart begin to race.

Joel brought a hand to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His other hand moved to the small of your back, bracing you. “‘S nothin’, angel. We can talk about it later.”

“I think we should talk about it now. Have something to do with why you keep sending me off our route early?”

“Fuck, Omaha. I knew you’d read into that.” Omaha. Joel’s nickname for you, usually said in jest. Joel pulls you back to his side and wraps his arm around you.

“What’s going on, Joel?” You whimper, and Joel pulls you closer to him. Waiting on his reply, you place a light hand on his collarbone, rubbing circles with your thumb.

Joel sighs deeply. “Something isn’t right, baby. Tommy has been tracking an influx of activity from the west. You know that. He’s worried though, Omaha. Every single day we’re finding more people killed by other people, not infected. Tommy’s pretty sure there’s a new settlement trying to form in Rexburg. Don’t think that’s where they want to stay, though.”

“You mean they want to try to come here.”

“Yes,” Joel says coldly. “Yeah, baby, we think that’s what they’re tryin’ to do.”

“And whenever you think they’re getting close to our route, you send me home.”

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” Joel says, voice hardly above a whisper.

“I can take care of myself, Joel.” He knows how you feel about him going all wounded healer on you. “I was alone longer than I’ve had you.”

“Hey, now,” Joel says firmly. “I don’t mean to say what you’re capable of. It’s just that if I can help it, I won’t see anything bad happen to you. Not again.”

Joel had a point. You had nearly died after he found you. Your healing is a blur of memories. You can vaguely remember Tommy yelling about someone finding a damn medic when you arrived at Jackson and seeing Joel look into your eyes every few seconds.

“She can’t die,” Joel had said, lowering you from his arms to Tommy’s.

And while you didn’t die, you came closer to knocking on death’s door than you’d care to admit. You spent weeks in the hospital, fever refusing to break.

Joel spent nearly every moment at your side. You can’t understand why Joel felt the way he did so early on, but you don’t question his feelings, either.

You’ve hardly spent any time without each other since he found you. Sure, Joel and you have your own lives still. You just prefer to spend them intertwined with one another. The sudden rush of emotion hits you, and you feel hot, thick tears well up in your eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry in front of Joel, but it’s no use. A tear falls down your face and onto Joel’s bare chest.

“Oh, angel. Don’t cry,” Joel whispers, reaching up to wipe your tears away. “C’mere,” he says smoothly, pulling you into his arms. He begins to stand, pushing an arm down into the recliner to steady himself. Effortlessly, he scoops you up, just like he did on that cold February morning when he found you outside of Jackson.

Joel carries you up the stairs, your arms wrapped around his neck. Nudging the door open with his shoulder, he crosses the threshold to the bedroom. He gently lowers you to the mattress, then walks to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers with you. You feel his warmth and instinctively turn towards him, propping your head on your arm.

Joel looks at you longingly, moving a hand towards you to stroke your soft, messy hair. “Tommy wants to take a search party out that way. He wants to go beyond the route.”

“Joel, we’ve never gone that far on our route. We don’t go into Idaho unless it’s for hunting.”

“I know, darlin’. I know.” His voice was coarse. He didn’t want to go, but he would do anything for Tommy. Anything to keep Jackson safe. This is his home now.

“I’m going,” you said forcefully.

Joel cups a hand around your cheek, flush with emotion. “No, honey, you’re not. We’re keeping it low-key. Me and Tommy, Ellie and some of the others. Not gonna be gone for long. Just trying to confirm what we wish we didn’t already know.”

It was no use fighting him on this. He isn’t going to let you go. “When?”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut. He doesn’t cry, so shutting out the world is about as close to tears as he gets. “Morning,” he says quietly.

“Fuck,” you whisper, darting your eyes to the ceiling. You can’t possibly look him in the eyes right now.

“Hey, there,” Joel says softly, running his thumb across your jaw. “I’m gonna come back. Always do.”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to force yourself to believe him.

He locks his thumb and index finger around your chin, squeezing. “Lie to me, baby. Tell me that you’re not going to do anything unreasonable while I’m gone.”

You tilt your chin, pressing your lips to Joel’s palm and making him sigh. “I’m not going to do anything I’d regret,” you lie. “I’ll stay here and let Maria keep me occupied with chores and projects she never has the time to get around to with you and Tommy constantly bothering her.”

“Good girl,” Joel whispers.

A tear rolls down your cheek that Joel is quick to wipe away. “But we’ve still got tonight, right?”

“Yes, honey. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Joel says, pulling your body into his. “Now then, we can either keep talking in circles, or we can finish what we started earlier. Your choice.”

You move Joel’s hand from your face to the front of your jeans. “Lead the way,” you whisper.

10 notes · View notes