#Joel is goin through it. the next one will be fun lol

[playername-player-of-games]

More of @chrisrin‘s gemcyt au :D part 2 to this!

//

Earth is…different.

It’s been raining for three days, (at least that’s what Etho called it, back when they landed). Three days of rain, no light from this system’s sun. Outside is reflecting how he feels inside, gray and storming and he’s-

He’s never going to see his diamond again.

It’s fine. That’s fine. He doesn’t think about it. He can’t think about it, not when it makes him feel like he’s raining.

He’s thinking about it.

She was beautiful, graceful- let him speak and laughed at his jokes. She complimented his fighting, thanked him when he helped her with even the smallest things- things he shouldn’t have been thanked for, in all honesty, like opening doors, or turning off the lights.

Stars, he’s really never going to see her again.

He curls further into himself. He’d reformed with a hooded cloak this time, the desire to hide manifesting physically as soon as he’d Reformed on the ship. He’d had to Reform twice, the first he did himself, without Etho saying he could. He’d been poofed immediately and whisked back into a drawer for what felt like centuries.

After they made it outside, he was allowed to Reform after the ship took off again. Etho said his hair turned black.

He doesn’t know what Etho’s talking about. He can see it, when he looks up at his fringe. It’s a darker green now.

It doesn’t matter. He’s never going to see his diamond again.

“Pearl?” Etho sing songs, footsteps crunching across the dirt of the kindergarten, “Peaaarl, you in here?”

Pearl stuck himself into one of the many gem-shaped holes in the wall, pressed as far back as he could manage, grateful his cloak is dark enough to blend in with the walls, “Go away, Etho.”

“I brought some friends,” Etho says, his face popping into view as he leans over the opening, setting down an oil lamp to light up the space, “you up for some chitchat?”

Pearl tugs his hood down. “Not really.”

“They’re nice, I promise,” Etho assures him, “they’re some of Impulse’s friends! Impulse was nice, right?”

“I guess.”

Impulse was nice, Etho’s right. Their little tour of Earth’s Gem Base had been brief but informative, with a few landmarks. Impulse’s forge. A warp pad. A crash site. Then Pearl got overwhelmed and ran, warping at random and landing in a kindergarten. Nobody came after him.

Until now.

“Do you wanna come out?” Etho asks.

“Not really.”

Etho laughs, “fair enough,” and disappears.

New footsteps- Pearl catches a flash of green and blue outside.

“I brought an aquamarine and a peridot,” Etho explains, voice louder now that he’s further away from the opening, “Grian and Mumbo. They want to talk to you about stuff.”

“Goodie.”

Etho bids him goodbye, and leaves. Then the aquamarine pushes his way into the hole, with a wide, one-eyed grin. There’s more than enough room for the two of them and all the rain water he’s bringing in here, but Pearl curls further into himself anyway.

“You’re Pink Diamond’s pearl,” remarks the aquamarine.

Pearl bristles, “I was Pink Diamond’s pearl.”

The aquamarine waves him off, “specifics don’t matter. All that matters is whether or not you’d like to overthrow the diamonds.”

Pearl freezes.

“Grian!” The peridot- Mumbo- scolds, “you can’t just say that!”

“Well, why not?” Grian turns around, his wings nearly whacking Pearl in the face, “it’s not like he can say no, if he goes back to Homeworld he’ll be shattered.”

They dissolve into bickering. Pearl doesn’t care. He can’t hear them.

Overthrow the diamonds.

It’s treason. Rebellion. He’s suddenly connecting dots he didn’t realize were there- the crash site. A hidden warp pad. So, so many mismatched gems living together in an uncharted, unregulated base. Not being allowed to Reform on the ship.

Oh stars- what has he gotten himself into?

The aquamarine yelps and disappears with a poof- Mumbo catches him, flustered when Pearl rushes past him, sword in hand, back to the warp pad, back to the warp, to warp, warp warp warp warp warp-

A blinding flash of light- he stumbles off the pad and falls to his knees.

Rebellion. Treason.

If he goes back to Homeworld, he’ll be shattered.

He’s being shattered right now, he thinks- that’s the only way he can think to explain this feeling. He’s being crushed, turned inside out, trying to reform in a place that’s too small. He shouldn’t be here- he’s raining- he should have stayed on Homeworld, should have let himself be-

Someone is humming.

He freezes. He’s good at this- disappearing into the background. He’s nothing. An accessory, a set piece.

He lifts his head.

They’re hovering over a lake (he hadn’t realized he’d warped to a lake), twisting in a way that looks like a dance, something bright and cloud-like in their arms. Something about their posture is familiar- friendly. Pearl pushes himself to his feet- his knees trembling, and forces himself forward.

One foot in front of the other. He makes out features- wings made of water. A bouquet of roses and sunflowers and little red things. Too big to be an aquamarine- a lapis? His gem a little to the left of where Pearl’s is, on his chest, right over where a human heart would be.

His humming has turned to singing. Pearl stops on the bank- he knows this lapis. This was one of the messengers, they used to talk all the time.

What is he doing on Earth?

The lapis bends over, dropping petals into the water, and notices Pearl with barely more than a glance.

“Oh, hello! You’re n-” he does a double take, eyes wide, his smile fond and familiar as if he remembers Pearl too, “you’re Pink Diamond’s pearl!”

This is the same lapis. The one he used to tease and trip in the hallways. They’d salute to each other- then to their diamond- then drop form and laugh. They made jokes- they called each other names and playful insults and make faces at each other when the diamonds weren’t looking. This lapis is- is like home, even after he disappeared for a hundred years without explanation- and he’s here right in front of him. Pearl feels like he’s being shattered all over again.

“Was,” he corrects, “I was Pink Diamond’s pearl.”

Lapis comes to hover in front of him, holding his bouquet. Pearl does not meet his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I uhm-” Pearl pulls his hood down over his eyes, “I fused with her.”

“Oh.”

Raindrops drip down his cheeks- he reaches up to wipe them away, turns his head to the sky and wonders how they’re getting on him if his hood is up. The sky is clear. Lapis lands in front of him, wings disappearing, his mouth a worried line.

“Why is it raining on my face?” Pearl whispers.

Lapis smiles, quiet, warm, and gently pulls Pearl’s hood down to rest on his shoulders, “you’re crying.”

Pearl sniffles, “what does that mean?”

“It means your eyes are making rain on your face,” he explains, still gentle. He tucks a little yellow rose over Pearl’s ear.

“How do I make it stop?”

“It’ll stop on its own, eventually.”

Pearl wipes his eyes on his sleeves. He feels exposed without his hood.

“Lapis-“

“Jimmy.”

Pearl makes a face, “what?”

“My name is Jimmy.”

Pearl scoffs, furiously wiping his eyes again, “what is with you Earth gems and your weird names.”

Jimmy laughs, moving to sit next to Pearl and tugging him down with him, “who have you met?”

“Impulse,” Pearl says, “which sounds dumb, and Mumbo, which sounds dumber, and Grian which sounds like grain!”

Jimmy laughs and nods again, “that’s us.”

“Stupid,” Pearl snaps. He needs his eyes to stop raining now.

“Would you like an earth name?” Jimmy asks, and Pearl scoffs at him again.

His first thought is no, he doesn’t want one. But then he remembers treason, and he remembers rebellion, and he remembers that he’ll be shattered if he goes back to Homeworld, and he thinks of making fun of long winded messages from important gems and making faces at each other behind the Diamond’s backs.

Surely naming himself isn’t the worst thing he’s ever done.

“Maybe.”

“Go on then,” Jimmy says, nudging him with his shoulder. “There’s lots of things to choose from.”

And there are a lot of things to choose from.

He likes the J from Jimmy’s name- it’s a good sounds- he just doesn’t know what comes after it. He looks around for inspiration. Jake isnt right. Jloud sounds weird, and so does Jeaf.

He takes a rose from Jimmy’s bouquet and twirls it around in his fingers- he can’t name himself Jasper, even though he’s off color he wouldn’t ever name himself after another gem. He can’t call himself Jimmy either, because then he’d be naming himself Pearl all over again and that’d just lead to problems.

He thinks further back- Impulse was showing him something at camp. Barrels of something called oil- the stuff in the lamp. Stuff for cooking. It’s stuff that helps other stuff work like it’s supposed to. He figures that’s a good a thing as any.

“Joil.”

“Joil?” Jimmy dissolves into laughter.

“Wha- hey, it’s not like it’s better than Jimmy!”

“No, no, it’s worse!”

Pearl growls at him, trying to be upset, but the way Jimmy is doubled over, cracking up, makes it hard to keep a smile off his face.

“Oh-kay, it’s bad,” he admits, trying and failing in the not laughing department, “but do you have a better idea, oh great Jim?”

“Maybe,” Jimmy straightens, smiling wide, “‘Joil’s’ a bit awkward to say, is all. Why not try Joel?”

He’s gotta admit that is easier to say.

“That’s fine,” Joel says. “You can call me that.”

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Joel,” Jimmy says, ever smiling, “welcome to Earth.”

[justagalwhowrites]

HEY BESTIE I LOVE THE PROMPTS #s 21 86 94 114 128 146 😭❤️ THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE TO READ

LOVE U SM

HI BESTIE!!

You had sent in one of these before I asked you to resend them lol but HEY turns out that was the perfect set up to post this one shot, too :D

This is featuring Joel and a smuggling partner who's been working with him and Tess for a while. She's new for this fic but I really like her so she may be making another appearance. I hope you love it!

Thanks so much for writing in and reading! Love you!!

Pretty Girl

Your smuggling partner, Joel Miller, is being uncommonly social during a trip to the Speakeasy.

Based on Prompt 128: "You're pretty" "You're drunk"

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Just smut. Smutty smutty smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.7k

“This is going to be a stupid fucking run,” you took a sip of shitty whiskey - which was the only whiskey to be found in the QZ so you dealt with it. Better than nothing, at least. 

“It’s not that stupid,” Tess replied. 

“We’re talking a total of, what, eight days on the road?” You asked. “Unless one of you assholes has a car I don’t know about…” 

“No car,” Tess said. “But I’ve heard from other folks who have passed through there in the last few months and it’s eight days of damn near empty country with a literal farm of pot on the other side. We’re talking about pounds and pounds of the stuff, we’ll be set for a fucking year off this one run…” 

You took another drink, looking out at the other patrons of the bar. Downtrodden and looking for solace at the bottom of a glass. Not all that different than the dive bars you frequented before the world ended eight years earlier but there had been a charm to them then. You and your girlfriends chose those places to add some kind of danger to your debauchery. The concept of going out for cocktails or a beer after work now was almost laughable it was so foreign. 

You’d had that kind of life once, though. One where you wore sheath dresses and spiked heels to your office and got paid more money than you needed to write bullshit ads for bullshit companies like Walmart. A trip to a dive bar was a fun way to step outside of your protected little bubble, a way to hook up with a guy with callused hands who might be a little rougher than the guys in your office whose muscle came from machines at the gym. 

You couldn’t believe you used to stress about that shit now. It was all so stupid, the pointless deadlines and the KPIs and the concern about what your boss would think if you showed up with a rough blue collar guy to a company cocktail hour. 

Now, you were only worried about surviving to the next day. And this run would either make that very easy or very hard, there was no in between. 

“What do you think, Miller?” You looked at Joel, the most sullen of your little trio. “Think it’s worth the risk?” 

He sighed, looking between you and Tess. 

“I think if Tess’ intel is good then we’re fuckin’ stupid to not take advantage of it,” he said. “But we can’t be fuckin’ dumb about goin’. We have to make sure we’re well supplied because I’m not getting caught with my pants down in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere just to run some pot into the QZ.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. If you’re both in then I’m in. But I swear to God if this fucking scheme gets me killed I will haunt both of you until the day you die.” 

Tess laughed a little and downed the rest of her whiskey. 

“On that note,” she said, getting up from your table. “I’m getting out of here. We’ll look at getting the fuck out of here in about a week, make sure you’re set on ammo and rations by then, yeah?” 

“Sure,” you nodded once and watched her go and turned back to Joel. “Ever wonder what the fuck would happen to Tess if she wasn’t in charge of something for a whole five minutes?” 

Joel snorted. 

“Doubt that’d ever happen,” he took a sip of his beer, polishing it off. 

“You heading out, too?” You asked. 

He looked at you for a moment, almost like he was assessing you. 

“Thinkin’ about stayin’,” he replied eventually. “Want somethin’ else from the bar?” 

“I’ll take a beer if you’re offering,” you shrugged, not used to Joel doing anything social beyond the bare minimum. You’d been doing smuggling runs with him for two years now and you were pretty sure you could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d initiated on your trips outside the QZ together. 

You certainly didn’t DISLIKE the man. You liked him probably a little too much if you were being completely honest about it. You liked that he was broad and strong and that he was the kind of guy you’d pick up on one of those nights out in a dive bar with your girlfriends. But you liked more than that, too. You liked the fact that he stopped at a pharmacy on the way back from a run once and grabbed a handful of bottles of children’s Tylenol. You’d frowned as he stashed them in his pack. 

“Neighbor’s daughter keeps gettin’ ear infections,” he said. “Poor thing sounds miserable.” 

He never mentioned it again. 

Joel brought two beers back to the table and put one in front of you before taking his seat again, looking out at the handful of people dancing to the music from the jukebox. 

“So Joel,” you said, twisting the glass in your fingers. “If you had to pick one thing - not a person because we all have a person - that you miss most about before, what would you pick?” 

“Hm,” he frowned, taking a drink. “Never thought about it.” 

“Well I’m asking you to think about it,” you smiled a little as you took a sip of beer. “That’s kind of the point.” 

One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly at that and he shook his head a bit. 

“Probably goin’ to listen to music or playin’ music,” he said eventually. “Somethin’ about live music… anyway. Probably miss that most. Or maybe museums.” 

“Museums.” You raised your eyebrows. 

He nodded. 

“Went to a lot of museums,” he said. 

He got a bit of a wistful look in his eye for a moment before he took another drink. 

“Didn’t strike me as the type,” you said.

He shrugged. 

“How about you?” He asked. 

“Restaurants,” you said immediately. “Hands down. I’d gained like 10 pounds on a trip not long before the outbreak so for the two weeks before I was dieting like crazy and I’ve never regretted a damn thing more. I was eating the most bland, boring shit like a dumbass. Jesus Christ, what I wouldn’t give now for a New York slice. Or a bagel. Fuck, I think I’d rather have one more true NYC bagel than ever have great sex again.” 

“Sounds like you’ve just never had great sex,” Joel smirked a bit. 

“No,” you shook your head. “You’ve just never had a great bagel.”

The two of you ended up having a few more drinks together and you actually heard Joel laugh - not something you knew he was actually capable of even after a few years of knowing the guy. 

“C’mon,” he said, downing the last of another beer. “Should get out of here before it’s curfew…” 

“Joel Miller, consummate rule follower,” you teased but knocked back the rest of your drink as well, leaving the speakeasy together. 

“Have a question for you,” he asked, his hands in his pockets. 

“Ask away.” 

“Where’d you learn to shoot the way you do?” He looked over at you. “You never seemed like the type. Still don’t, if I’m bein’ honest ‘bout it.” 

“My dad started taking me hunting when I was a kid,” you smiled a little at the memory. “Always liked the challenge but what I really liked was that he liked doing it with me. Never could get his attention any other way, really. Don’t think he ever wanted a daughter but he got stuck with me. So he took me hunting and I loved it. And then he started teaching me more and more and eventually I was just a damn good shot.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Well, I owe ‘im,” he said. “You being a fuckin’ deadeye saved my ass more than once.” 

“You know you don’t have to wait until you’re drunk to talk to me,” you said, glancing over to him. “You can ask me shit like this when it comes to mind.” 

“Not drunk,” he said. 

“Sure you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, coming to the road where you usually went your separate ways to go to your respective apartments. But when you turned to say goodbye, he’d turned toward your apartment instead, already walking that way. 

“OK so you’re really drunk,” you said, catching up with him quickly. “Your apartment is the other way, Joel.” 

“Not drunk,” he said. “Just makin’ sure you get home OK. Not usually out this late. Not with me, anyway.” 

You looked at him, incredulous, but didn’t argue. You walked in silence for a few minutes and you felt his eyes on you periodically and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Is everything OK?” You asked eventually. “Didn’t… I dunno, get bit in the QZ somehow, right?” 

“I’m fine,” he frowned. “Why?” 

“Because you’re being weirdly talkative and walking me home,” you said. “And you keep looking at me. And I’d like to make sure you’re not about to drop dead or turn or something.” 

“I’m fine,” he shrugged. 

“OK…” 

“It’s just…” he paused. “You’re… pretty.” 

You snorted. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“I ain’t drunk,” he said. 

“And I ain’t been pretty since 2003,” you shook your head and smiled a bit. “That ship sailed with the Lancome counter at the mall and access to regular blowouts.” 

“Well that’s a load of shit,” he said. “You’re pretty. You just are, don’t need fuckin’ makeup or that other shit to see that.” 

You stopped walking and stared at him for a moment. He stopped walking, standing under a street light, and turned to look at you. 

“What.” 

“I swear to God, Joel, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were hitting on me.” 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe I am.” 

You scoffed. 

“I’m being serious!” You said. “Don’t make fun of me…” 

“I’m bein’ serious, too,” he said. “Not makin’ fun.” 

You stepped closer to him, so your bodies were aligned and almost touching, your arms crossed over yourself. 

“What were you planning to do about it?” You asked. 

He took your chin gently in one of his large hands and tilted your head back before kissing you. HIs lips were plush, unexpectedly soft in contrast to the pleasant scratch of his mustache on your skin. He kissed you until you were breathless, your hands flexing into fists as you tried to work some of the growing tension from your limbs. He pulled back a little, his nose brushing your own. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said quietly. “More, if you’ll let me.” 

You we ripping his clothes off before the door to your apartment had fully closed, his shirt winding up somewhere on the floor of your living room alongside your bra. 

When you were both naked, you pushed him down on your bed, your pussy already dripping and aching for him. You moved to straddle him and he brought a hand down over your sensitive mound, dipping his fingers into your slit and gathering your wetness before sliding up to tease your clit. 

“Goddamn you’re wet,” he groaned. “You walk around like this all the fuckin’ time, just ready for it?” 

“No,” you panted. “Took you practically sticking your tongue down my throat outside…” 

“Oh is that all,” he worked your clit harder, making you moan. 

“Maybe you’re pretty, too, Miller,” you closed your eyes, trying to focus, your body already starting to tighten, your sex all but begging to have something to grip and throb around as aching heat started to swirl through you. 

“Know that’s bullshit,” he leaned forward and nipped your throat before kissing and sucking his way to your collarbone, taking his hand away from your slit and rubbing your arousal over his thick, hard length. You tilted your hips forward, brushing his weeping tip with your soaked seam. “Fucking hell Baby…” 

“Need you,” you dug your nails into his back and he moaned at it. “Need to feel…” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, holding onto the base of his cock and lining it up with your grasping, longing core. His head barely dipped into you, the burning stretch doing nothing to sate your desperate wanting. “Need inside you, need you to fuckin’ take it…” 

You thrust down on him, taking him into you in one firm, quick motion. It made you gasp, his size almost overwhelming. You whimpered as your body adjusted, your pussy feeling more stretched than it ever had before. 

“Jesus Christ,” his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breaths coming in keening, desperate pants. “Holy fucking God you’re tight, fuck…” 

You started to ride him then, beginning slow but hard, lifting your hips up before slamming yourself back down on him, your channel gripping him tight every time he was thrust up into you. 

His hands went to your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of you, clinging to you as you worked his cock. 

“Take it like this?” You panted in his ear before sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. 

“Fuck, just like that,” his hands were more desperate on you now, like he was going to lose control. “Want you to make yourself cum on my fuckin’ cock, want to feel you cum all over my fuckin’ cock…” 

Your pussy tightened further around him and you pressed your chest tightly against against him, riding him hard and fast now, your clit pressing against the softness of his stomach with every firm thrust. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped as you came, taking him all the way inside yourself and holding him there as you pulsed around him. 

It was like he’d been waiting for you to cum, waiting for you to be so lost in your own orgasm that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from taking what he wanted. 

His arms went around you and he picked you up for a moment before pressing you down into your bed, his cock buried in you to the root. He started fucking into you while your pussy still throbbed around him. Your hands flew to your bed, fingers tangling in the sheets as he spread your legs wide and looked down to where you were joined. 

“Fuck, look at you takin’ me so goddamn well,” he groaned, increasing his pace. Your pussy started to contract around him again, your clit both begging for attention but so oversensitive that you were worried him toying with it would make you cry. “Tight fuckin’ pussy so goddamn good…” 

He pressed a thumb into your clit and it was like a shockwave rolled through you, something almost like another orgasm coursing through you. But it offered no relief, just driving yourself to get tighter around Joel, your body trying to bring him deeper, hold onto him for longer. 

“Not gonna last long with pussy this goddamn good,” he said, leaning over you and kissing and biting down your jaw to your throat. You rocked your hips up against him in desperate, stuttering thrusts. “Where do you want me, Baby?” 

“On my clit,” you moaned. “Fuck, please…” 

“Jesus,” he groaned, fucking into you harder, his cock forcing you to stretch over him to just shy of the point of pain with every motion.  Your body was so taut again you were worried you were going to snap with it, with the aching drive of pleasure and want taking over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” 

He thrust in you twice more before pulling out of you and jerking himself just once over your dripping slit. He pressed his swollen cock head to your clit and gasped as he came, spilling himself over you, the warm pulsing of his spend triggering your orgasm. 

“Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum,” he panted, watching as the last of his cum dripped onto your throbbing clit. He ran his thumb up from your hole through your slit to your overwrought clit, rubbing his cum into you as he circled your clit, making you shudder and gasp as your orgasm eased. 

He took one last, long look at your naked body before collapsing beside you, still panting for breath. 

“So,” he said after a minute. “Still think you’d rather have a bagel?” 

You laughed once. 

“Bagels can go to hell,” you said. “As long as you promise to do that to me again.” 

“Any time you want, Pretty Girl,” he said. “Any time you want.”