#having no one with me to help for just a few hours to watch Jackson makes me sick to my stomach | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 1 year

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summary | a story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. a collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next. [17k+]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, set post s1 (but not specifically stated), lots of characters from the game (but not significant if you're unaware) grumpy!joel, friends (?) with benefits, sex under stress as a means for distraction (consensual), graphic depicition of an attack of raiders (it's brief, easy to skim over), a litany of sexual escapades (oral, unprotected, ect) semi-public sex (no one's around), orgasm denial, repressed emotions

author’s note | um, yeah. i had this idea back in february and had an outline that finally came to fruition over the past month. this was a serious labor of love and purely self-indulgence. if you make it through the entire thing, thank you! if this has typos please ignore. i proofread this like 4 times and i will cry

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Patrolling with Joel was always something. Miserable when Joel was having a bad day, mildly enjoyable on the days where he managed to have enough coffee that morning when you weren't on the rotation for the shitty patrols that took hours to trek through in this weather, the snow halfway up your shins nearly everywhere.

It’s been a few months now and Joel is still who you favor going with over anyone else—he’s thoughtful, methodical, always watching over his shoulder for danger. And Joel does warm up to you eventually, but the reluctance in his eyes is always there. He’s seasoned in the art of surviving, avoiding connection when at all possible. He doesn’t talk to you for the first month out of simple answers or orders, helping you get accustomed to a route you haven’t run before, but small talk? It’s nonexistent.

Maybe that was for the best.

Because the first time you find yourself pinned under his gaze, fingers clenched around your wrists in warning, the unseemly thoughts invade your brain.

He doesn’t sleep often during patrols, either. So, it’s a little intimidating when you find him curled up on top of his sleeping bag when he swore he was taking a quick break, resting the ache in his back that quickly melted into a deep slumber. You can’t dare to wake him up so soon after, seeing how peaceful he looked when he slept, almost at ease but still carrying that deep scowl, permanently on his features. It was a part of him.

Tommy and Jesse had arrived to rotate and relieve you guys back to Jackson, something that wasn’t out of the norm, but you find yourself battling with leaning over him, shaking him awake and disturbing his slumber. And on a dime, the moment your hand connects with his shoulder, Joel is awake—very awake and subduing you with little resistance, your leg forced hastily between his own, eyes dark and pensive from where he held himself above you.

“Joel, Joel—it’s just me,” You spit out in a panic, “Tommy and Jesse, they’re outside.”

You’re not sure what breaks his stupor, be it the panic in your voice or the terrified look on your face, he relents quickly, apologizing half-heartedly under his breath.

You release a tight breath when he finally lets go, rising up slowly as he does, grabbing your pack without a word, as does he, watching as he rolled up his sleeping bag, something you’ve seen him do a million times before, but he feels you watching him, almost hesitant to speak now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks lowly, the thickness of sleep in his voice.

“No, um—“ You shake your head, rubbing the skin of your wrist absently, “I guess I should’ve been more careful, but you fell asleep and I figured you needed it.”

He looks even more apologetic, more so for his actions but for also leaving you up alone, not that it really mattered to you. It was an easy patrol spot in the watchtower— it never caused trouble, so falling asleep was the least of your worries.

You shrug when his eyes glance over your slightly hunched frame, shivering from the cold but an arm clutching around your middle. It’s defensive, a subconscious movement that Joel doesn’t even think you realize you’re doing.

He shouldn’t feel shitty about it, but he does. Still, he won’t admit that out loud.

“Next time I’ll keep six feet and poke you with a stick,” You joke, “kinda like waking a bear.”

You smile when Joel huffs reluctantly, a subtle motion of his chest as he chuckles. It’s faint, but you see the involuntary quirk at the corner of his mouth as he shoved his sleeping bag into his pack and rose to his feet.

“Hey, you’ve still got decent reflexes,” You shrug, passing him by with the soft scuffle of your feet, shoulders rubbing against each other awkwardly as you turn toward him over your left shoulder, his body too close for his own comfort, “for an old guy.”

He scoffs at the implication, though any maliciousness in his expression is void, “Old?”

He knows it’s the truth, he just hates the implication. He’s weaker, but not any less that man he was than that he is now. He watches your face scrunch up in amusement, a soft laugh slipping past your lips.

“Joel, I’m fucking with you,” You tell him, the tense in his brow relaxing slightly, “it’s gonna be a long ride back, isn’t it?”

“Ah, don’t know—think you can handle travelin’ with the old guy for a few hours?”

Joel doesn’t divert to humor often, but when he does, it’s a sweet sight, that rough exterior cracking under your gaze more often.

“Please,” You puff your lips out in a quick huff, yanking your back over your shoulder, “I can handle you just fine.”

Once you got to know him, it was actually quite easy.

Joel nods his chin forward silently, ignoring your teasing for the time being, a long ride ahead of you and not nearly enough patience on his end to deal with your antics.

And you try to ignore how intensely his touch lingered on your skin, rubbing the tender spot on your wrist during the long ride back to Jackson.

Joel keeps his distance behind you, but he sees it—the subtle look over your shoulder every now and then, your eyes lingering with him when he forces eye contact.

It’s only the start of what was to come, something neither of you were prepared for.

The rotation is adequately simple over the first few months, keeping the pairings fair by filtering them out evenly—Ellie is fun to be around, a lot more relaxed and less jaded by everything. She keeps things light, always bringing along her comics for extra entertainment or spending her time drawing you or whatever she could find, something to keep her busy when things get boring. And she talks, freely, to you—something Joel never did. Besides, Ellie kept up to date on the town drama, so in turn, so did you.

And Tommy is, well, Tommy. He’s efficient, likes to do his rounds, sign the patrol sheet, scope the area, then spend the rest of the night or day relaxing away when things aren't going awry. He talks about before—his job, how people lived in Austin, the summer cookouts in the neighborhoods that you were never privy to. Tommy’s nice, you’ve always liked him. It was Joel who proved to be the difficult one, something Tommy would wholeheartedly agree with.

Eventually you find yourself paired up with Joel more often than you’re used to, now Ellie would stick to patrols with Dina when she could, occasionally Jesse. She always complains when she has to ride with Joel, something about:

“We live together, but we’re not attached at the fuckin’ hip.”

Joel doesn’t complain, his hesitancy toward letting Ellie take more responsibility waning by the day when he realizes how well she holds her own.

You take the patrol further west, a lodge that he and Tommy cleared out some months prior when you were still new—you’ve only ran into infected there once, end of the summer, but Joel cleared them out no problem.

It seemed like an easy patrol. It was. Joel even seems a little more cheerful than usual, making comments to some of the information you were relaying to him that Ellie told you, some pointless gossip to fill the lull.

“It’s why I mind my business,” Joel speaks over the soft trollop as you ride alongside him, “nothin’ good comes from stickin’ your nose where you shouldn’t,” his head turns, eyes glancing over your frame briefly, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to loosen them, “it only breeds more problems.”

“I’m just the messenger,” You shrug, “I keep to myself—you know that.”

He does. He finds the shyness endearing in a way, a contrast from how exuberant Ellie could be when he spent patrols with her. It’s why things worked so well with you—you respected his space, he respected yours.

“Remind me to check that guitar place for those strings Ellie’s been buggin’ about,” Joel tells you, “I’ll hit it before we leave.”

“She’s improved a lot,” You compliment, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “props to her teacher, I suppose.”

Joel shakes his head, emitting a bit of fondness every time he talks about Ellie, “That kid is determined. I don’t think she would’ve needed my help either way.”

“You know,” Your tone bleeds something teasing, putting Joel on edge as he tilts his head your way, looking expectantly, “she said you’re a pretty good singer.”

Joel opens his mouth for a beat before snapping it shut, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to sing,” You promise, “but—I don’t know, just didn’t pin you as the type.”

“I’ve got a type about me?” Joel seems dully interested, a soft smirk on his face as he yields the reins to a stop, leading you to follow suit as you both guide the horses to the makeshift stable tucked away on the side of the building, gathering your things before you make your way inside.

You leave Joel in a curious silence until you’re able to relax, closing the doors behind you with a heavy shove once Joel has done his quick walk-through, the fireplace setting unlit in the middle of the room looking all too appealing right now.

“Look, I’ll just keep askin’,” Joel says, clapping his hands together deftly to grab your attention, throwing the lighter stuffed into your coat pocket at his waiting hands, cupped as he catches it with ease, setting up a fire that crackles to life instantly, “first I’m an old man, now you’re judgin’ me, doesn’t really seem fair now does it?”

It’s the most he’s talked to you before, suddenly invested in getting an answer out of you. It’s playful, his intention, and you can’t help but find it a little enjoyable to watch him squirm. You take a seat around the circular fire pit, feet propped up against the brick surrounding it, hands laying flat over you stomach, jacket unzipped but still snug on your body.

“You’re a big grump all the time,” You tell him honestly, his face morphing into something indecipherable, “—Ellie’s words, not mine.”

You hold a finger up, pointing in his direction.

“But, she’s not wrong.” It earns a subtle shrug, Joel’s arms stalling over the back of the couch that wrapped around the fire pit, a few feet away from you still. “I’m just saying, most of the people in town who enjoy that stuff—you know, music and all that. They’re loud about it, a little showboaty if you ask me.”

“What? I’m not loud enough for you?”

He was loud when he needed to be. Directive and strong, aggressive to anyone who may cause him harm or anyone he cares about—you’ve seen it a few times, but never on the side of it being just you and him. Part of you is thankful for that, but you can’t help the wanted to feel that type of fierce protection aimed toward you.

You snort softly, “Forget it, Joel. It’s a nice surprise, I bet you have a great voice.” It’s free of any teasing or ill-intent of riling him up. A true compliment, one that cracks Joel’s surface, just barely.

Joel hits you softly in the chest with a bag of jerky a while later, chewing on a piece quietly as he rests, neck hung against the back of the couch, eyes closed. The heat creeps in slowly, forcing you to strip down a few layers—jacket first, then your sweater, down to just your jeans and shirt, wiggling your feet out of your snow boots in hopes that they’ll dry by the fire quicker.

And truthfully, your bored out of your mind. It was hard to stay dormant like this, holed up in a place for an extended period of time with nothing to do but entertain yourself—and because Joel was about as entertaining as watching wet paint dry, you took the initiative into your own hands.

“Have you ever played pool?” Your voice slices through the thick silence, one of Joel’s eyes peeking open curiously, head still reclined back. “I’ve been dying to try this out since Tommy found those balls a few months ago.”

“It’s been years,” He mumbles lowly, tapping his fingers against the back of his right palm, “—what about you?”

“Not a chance, Joel,” You reply, voice oozing with a flippant vagrancy, “I was fifteen when the outbreak happened, I’ve never even stepped foot into a bar, let alone some place like this.”

Even now, twenty years into a world that had crumbled to the ground, the lodge still held up nice.

Normally you would expect Joel to make up some excuse, roll over on his side or lay down and pretend he was asleep or keep watch by the door, his demeanor never faltering for more than a second, clipped answers to your question. But, that was Joel wasn’t here now.

He’s warmed up to you, partially—but you could tell there was still a long way to go. He still keeps his distance, less of a chance to bump into your or accidentally brush shoulders. It makes you feel forlorn, like maybe you had scared him by how you reacted, eyes wide and terrified underneath him.

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t want to scare you again. He couldn’t handle it. Not with how reluctantly fond he’s grown of you, something he kept close to his chest and didn’t dare tell a soul. He’s got his own justifications for it.

“We can play a game,” Joel suggests, “it’ll kill some time, I guess.”

Joel didn’t need to know how easy it would be for you to play him under the table, having spent most of your time around the guys at the bar who like to hustle bets for pool. They never stood a chance. And Joel never frequented The Tipsy Bison outside of parties thrown for the community as a group (and that was still rare), always dragged along by Ellie or Tommy. They were insufferable to attend.

You could share the sentiment.

“Any bets?” You tease, stripping the pool cues off the wall and handing it to him as he approaches, strip down to a similar state as well, tanned skinned under a navy blue shirt, wearing the jeans he seemed to never take off and boots that were barely holding on.

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Joel decides, “I’ve got nothin’ in mind anyways.”

“God, you’re no fun,” You pout, pulling an eye roll from Joel, his eyes flicking toward the ground briefly as he reconsidered, “come on—anything.”

“Jesus—uh, I don’t know,” He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, “huh, how about the loser just owes the other a favor?”

You blow a raspberry with your tongue, “Lame,” You tease further, but his quick switch to defeat has his arm slumping at his side forcing you to reassess, “—fine, fine. A favor is fair, I’m running low on those anyways.”

It’s a small hint at your competitive nature, something Joel is clueless to pick up on, guiding you through the basics of the game with ease—you listen intently despite how badly you were going to destroy him, the stakes surprisingly high.

A favor. For anything.

The small crack of a smile on Joel’s face is enough of a reward as he watches you attempt to break the set, barely tapping the center as it rolls back slowly, your face scrunching up in annoyance.

“Oh, fuck you,” You scoff playfully, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Joel shakes his head in a blatant attempt at lying, heaving his cue up to show you his stance, “Keep your dominant hand on the end and your other near the type, you’ve just gotta guide it through with some force.”

You feign innocence, switching the cue to your dominant side, though still looking visibly uncomfortable and rigid.

Joel thinks it over in his hand, rehashing his decision making a million times over until he’s resting the pool cue aside and joining your side, hesitant as he brings his hands to your elbows from behind, keeping a careful distance.

“Keep your arm a little further back,” He pulls at your dominant arm, thick fingers wrapping around your bicep, his body leaned forward slightly to adjust the other when he can’t reach, spreading your fingers to wrap around the other end, tucking your thumb under the cue gently at wrapping your index over the top, “it’s almost like you’re holding a pencil, if that helps. Sort of.”

You nod slightly, his touch lingering lightly as he leaned over you, pointing toward the center of the table, “Just use that hand as a guide, don’t grip it too tight and let the cue follow through. Here, try it.”

He crowds you in slowly, aiding you in the force of your cue as he guides it back and through with a sharpness, hitting the ball dead center and the rest of them scattering as a result.

“Just like that.” He praises, a softness to him that wasn’t there before when speaks over your shoulder. You roll your shoulders insignificantly, nodding at his response.

He notes how unbothered you are this way, in this situation compared to the latter, his touch guiding and soft compared to rough, suffocating, the force he only used in situations where his opponent wasn’t going to make it out alive.

Joel parts without so much as a word, shifting into his typical stance, favoring his right leg as it bends slightly, using the cue for support as he leaned into it. “Got it?”

You nod silently, feeling warm all over, too warm. It’s your own fault, really—not a soul to blame but yourself. To be fair, you didn’t think Joel would bother to take the bait. But he did, almost too eagerly. It was enough to mentally knock you on your ass, leaving you to play the rest of the game with a cloudy mind filled with how warm his touch felt against your bare skin, craving a touch you haven’t felt in months. It’s pathetic, but you can’t help it.

Joel sinks the last ball with finality, slapping his hand against the felt table in triumph, a surprising show of emotion for someone so sullen as him. He was full of surprises you were quickly finding out.

“M’sorry, darlin’.” He tells you, sounding authentically apologetic, “I don’t expect you to owe me any favors.”

“Screw that,” You shake your head stubbornly, annoyed at how easily you let him get the better of you, “one more.”

“I’m not sure if that’s—“

“One. More.” You tell him adamantly, reracking the balls without an answer, nodding pointedly toward the table, “Pick a pocket.”

Joel’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion, “You want to play one-pocket? How the hell do you even know about—I thought you said you’ve never played.”

“Joel, pick a damn pocket.”

You don’t choke this time, letting him take the first hit, watch the ball sink, and the next one he misses.

You don’t miss, one turn after the other passing him up as you sink them in succession.

He stares at you with wide eyes, nose flared like he’s going to laugh, mouth spread into a subtle smile, his teeth peeking through.

“You’re a fuckin’ pool shark, aren’t you?” Joel questions, tossing the pool cue aside. “That was goddamn impressive, I’ll give you that.”

“How do you think I score the steak sandwiches for our routes over the tuna and cheese?” You ask redundantly, “I’ve played Tommy under the table enough times that he won’t even play for fun anymore.”

“Well,” Joel shrugs, “guess we both owe each other favors, don’t we?”

You could care less about the favors now, battling with the conflicting feelings as you stared at the man ahead of you, seeming like a completely different person to you now. He's acting nothing like the sulky man you walk by every day in Jackson.

“Shit—one more,” Joel insists, “no holdin’ back on each other. No bets, just braggin’ rights.”

Joel never hears the end of it that night, falling asleep to the faint giggle of victory.

Another few weeks later and things are even more different.

You spot Joel from a mile away, tucked against the corner of the bar with wistful eyes downturned toward his drink, the ice in the glass swashing alongside the dark whiskey. The squeal of a couple kids and their scattering feet as they ram into you and pull your attention away, guiding them away to safety and out of the crowd with a gentle hand, a pair of apologetic parents waiting off to the side.

He must’ve seen the interaction halfway through, smirking with amusement as you approach, though still eerily silent.

Your friendship since the pool game has blossomed slowly, he jokes with you more often, shares his food when he hears your stomach growl, no matter how much you refuse. He even talks about his hobbies, things he enjoys, and it feels like he’s less of an enigma now. Real, tangible, someone you can make a connection with.

He still keeps his distance, mostly—the pool game was a fluke, a split second decision he hadn’t thought through and fully regretted after the fact. He’s gone from tackling you to the ground in fear to feeling you up for a good shot and that just doesn’t sit right with him, but he never apologizes. He can’t find it in him to embarrass himself further, figuring that by getting his ass kicked at pool was already punishment enough.

But, it doesn’t help that he always finds himself in situations that end up with him closer than he intended—he can’t tell if you’re being intentional about it anymore, but tonight, it’s all you.

“Damn, who dragged you out of the house?” You ask, a huff of a laugh muffled by the glass that tips to his lips, your fingers drumming silently against the bar as you asked for a beer, smiling at a familiar face. “Wait, let me guess—Ellie?”

Joel shakes his head honestly.

“Shit—Tommy?”

“No.”

“Maria forced Tommy to force you to show up?” Joel actually has a laugh at that, the idea not that far-fetched, but it’s another wrong answer.

“Joel Miller—“ Your finger wags in his face, landing on the center of his chest as you sip from your own drink with your opposite hand, “did you actually wander out of your house on your own free will?”

Guilty as charged. Joel would never make decisions like this, but he knew you would be there—and goddamnit, he couldn’t help it. He’s dressed incredibly suave too, a clean, slick dress shirt that works well on him, a nice change from his usual thick coats and plaid button ups.

“Hey, brother,” Tommy claps a hand down on Joel’s shoulder warmly, flashing you his trademark grin, teeth and all, “ma’am.”

You grimace at the word, “God, Tommy—you gotta stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, habit.” He chuckles before glancing over at Joel briefly, eyes connecting with yours in question, “So, what are we thinkin’—hell finally freeze over?”

“Seems that way.”

You play along, teasing Joel with no reluctance, enjoying the pinched look on his face as he downs the whiskey.

“Well, sorry Joel, but I came to steal her away for a dance,” He informs Joel, jabbing his thumb in your direction, “it is tradition, after all.”

Joel didn’t know that, of course. How could he?

Tommy always takes a minute or two to dance with you, one of his favorite songs being played by the band of townspeople—Maria doesn’t enjoy dancing as much either, spending most of her time mingling and helping out where it was needed, it’s an easy compromise.

It’s an upbeat song, something country that you can’t be bothered to memorize the words of, but it’s all big twists and twirls, dancing with little precision and more for pure enjoyment than anything else.

Joel tries not to stare, he does. But, it’s nearly impossible. It starts at your face, lingering as he savored that huge smile plastered across it, arm flying above your head as Tommy spun you, squealing in joy. Eventually it travels elsewhere, lower and lower, until Joel can’t help but keep his gaze stuck on the curve of your jeans, the way the denim cups your ass perfectly.

And it feels wrong, almost demeaning, but you don’t seem to have a care in the world, turning on your heels and to Joel suddenly, who’s already straightened up by then and shoving his glass away, poised to make his excuse to leave until you’re bounding toward him, hand outstretched as Tommy watches from the side, hands settled on his hips. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Come on, Joel.” You try to persuade, using a grabby motion with your hands as you approach him closer, bordering on shoving yourself between the bar top and his legs, “Just one dance.”

“Darlin’ I don’t—“ His refusal is imminent, obvious in your eyes. But, you’ve got a trick up your sleeve that he’d never hear the end of if he denied you.

“My favor,” You play your cards, “I’m cashing’ in.”

You cock your head to the side, awaiting his answer with a pointed look, satisfied smile creeping onto your face as he sighs, letting you take his hand in reluctance as you pull him to your feet.

Joel’s at least thankful the tempo of the song is slower, but that leads to a minacious closeness he wasn’t prepared for, your delicate set of fingers resting over his shoulder, the other slack in his hand. He settles one against your waist, touching cautiously light and his other hand enveloping your own.

“This is a waste of a favor, you know.” Joel comments off-handedly, his eyes dragging toward the floor as he swayed to the gentleness of the music, dancing with an ease that still stuck with him, even after all these years.

“I don’t think so,” You shrug, “I get a dance, you’re no longer in debt to me, seems like a win win.”

Joel shakes his head with a fondness, eyes flicking up toward you briefly as he bows his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he seems to relax, realizing that the only eyes on him were you now, Tommy having gone off to search for Maria.

“All these other guys and you want to dance with the old man,” Joel starts, “how’d you come to that decision?”

“You’re never letting that go,” You roll your eyes half-heartedly, pulling him in closer on a whim, trading your current position for one where your arms rest of his shoulders, fingers interlocking behind his neck loosely, his own hands adjusting against your hip more casually, fingers dancing over the sliver of bare skin from where your shirt had started to rise, “can I tell you a secret, Joel?”

“It’s not a secret if you tell me,” He counters slyly, “besides, I’m terrible at keeping ‘em.”

And blame it on the lingering remnants of his second whiskey, but you can feel his fingers drag against your skin, finding home under the fabric of your shirt, his expression never changing—but it feels like a test, like he’s waiting for you to have a reaction. There’s not a word traded during the subtle interaction, ignoring his actions as you spoke.

“I’d choose you over any of those guys,” You say, a rawness that bleeds truth, Joel doesn’t have to second guess you, he sees it, “and Seth is way older than you and a prick, give yourself some fuckin’ credit, Joel.”

Joel settles quietly, shaking his head at your soft outburst. It shouldn’t surprise him, your shared devotion having grown over the past few weeks, small moments that made Joel second guess everything he’s taught himself to be.

Distant, hard, cold. But with you, it just wasn’t possible anymore. At least, not lately.

“And,” You sing, wiggling excitedly under his grip, “I may have saved your ass for patrol tomorrow.”

Joel looks at you expectantly, pulling you in closer when a quick pass of two rowdy kids has you stumbling forward.

You laugh at the sudden change in motion, hands slapping against his chest to keep you steady. He doesn’t try and move you away, which is surprising. But, you don’t try to move either, enjoying the slow guide of your chest against his as you sway to the music.

“Tommy’s takin’ coverage with Eugene,” You tell him, “I know how much you hate patrolling with him.”

Joel huffs out a laugh, “I don’t hate him, he’s just—“

“Talkative? A little too cheery for you?” You ask, leaning your head back an inch to examine his face fully, “Damn, I guess I’m not much of an improvement, either.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Joel responds defensively, though his face is still relaxed.

“Then?” You tease.

“Let me ask you,” Joel switches things around, “You’d rather patrol with Tommy over me?”

You shrug before thinking about it for a moment, actually thinking—and no, you wouldn’t. “No, guess not.”

“Why?” He questions, putting you on the spot.

“You’re prettier to look at,” You say with a nonchalance, “and Tommy really likes to reminisce, like…a lot.”

Joel snorts a quiet laugh at that.

“So, you see my issue with Eugene then.” Joel brings the conversation to a head, watching as a smirk appears on your face, realizing his mistake in real time.

“Hold on— that’s why you enjoy our patrols so much?” You turn your head into your shoulder to hide your laugh, quickly gathering yourself to tease him further, “Because, I’m prettier to look at and I keep my mouth shut?”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, ignoring your question. “You do realize where we’re going tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Of course, we’re stationed out at the dam.” You respond casually, “It’s not that bad, Joel.”

It’s the one place you and Joel haven’t had the opportunity to patrol together, always paired up with someone else—it’s a cramped spot, loud, and uncomfortably cold at this time of year no matter how many fires you set. Plus, it’s a lot of leg work to check the dam, making sure it’s still in good working condition. It’s what powered Jackson, without it, you wouldn’t be dancing with Joel right now, let alone even allowed the luxury of having a weekend to unwind and enjoy the party.

Joel looks hesitant.

“What?” You pry, “Don’t like the idea of being stuck in a tiny room with me for that long, one bed, nowhere to sulk off into a corner?”

If anyone else had approached him like this, it would’ve ended in a broken jaw—his own internalized anger getting the best of him. But, it’s you. And he knows you’re right.

You squeeze in closer, leaving barely any room between you now that the center of the hall was filled with other dancing bodies, shifting Joel’s hands down over your ass, the tips of his fingers adjusting over the curve and leaving little to imagination as he can feel every ridge and curve of your body, his solid chest against your own.

Your heart clenches at the idea that he might pull away, something akin to a bad sting and finally give up on his attempt at being sociable—he doesn’t move an inch.

Doesn’t say a word.

In fact, his gaze is even more intense now than it was before, edged with a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll sulk wherever I feel like it.” Joel retorts, falling into his usual scowl. “It’s probably about time we turn in for the night, don’t you think?”

You blink slowly, gaze never faltering. There’s a darkness behind his eyes, something still undiscovered. You nod blanky, but secretly acquiesce what he’s about to say.

“Long day tomorrow,” You agree, the shift in the air evident to the both of you, an innocent attempt at pulling some enjoyment out of Joel devolving into something dangerous and uncharted, “I’ll see you bright and early, yeah?”

“I’ll walk you back,” Joel insists, “maybe my sulkin’ will scare those boys who’ve been eyeing you all night.”

“I can handle myself, Joel.” He knows it—doesn’t make his offer any less tempting, though. He was a protector, you liked being protected. It was a devious offer that would find you in trouble soon, but you relent, accepting his help. He doesn’t make the first move, leaving you to take that step.

Joel doesn’t realize how badly he’s craved to touch you until he was, the second he laid his hands on you it was over for him—and he hates himself for letting you in, letting you wear him down. Joel’s close behind as you turn, navigating your way through the crowd quietly.

“Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a hammering in your chest that doesn’t calm the entire way back toward your house, a small street near the edge of the town, a few houses away from the one he shared with Ellie.

You clear your throat awkwardly, a thickness there that crept up on you, watching as Joel shoved his hands into his front pockets, leaning on his better leg, always favoring the left.

“I can ask Tommy to switch things back if you’re really bothered,” You remind him gently, wondering if that was why he seemed so bothered now, his face brooding and flat, “I won’t get my feelings hurt, I promise.”

But inside Joel’s head, his mind is filtering through a thousand bad decisions to make, every one of them involving you.

“No,” He tells you surely, “You’re doing me a favor—shit, so I guess that means you don’t owe me anymore, actually.”

You shrug slightly, “Keep it, this one’s free.”

Joel has an inclination that you wouldn’t do that for just anyone, watching your face morph into a tired smile.

“Careful,” He teases, “you’re goin’ soft on me.”

You snort softly, ignoring the still burning tingle that lingered on your skin long after Joel’s touch disappeared. It was the same ache you felt the first time he touched you, tackled you to the ground and kept you pinned under his grip. He hasn’t gotten much better, still jerking awake in most situations, but you’ve learned to keep your distance.

“Sorry,” You slip your hands into your back pockets, your thick jumper pulling tight over your chest, “didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, still lingering on your doorstep despite himself. Old Joel would hightail it home, old Joel wouldn’t have even offered to walk you back to begin with—but, here he was.

“I should turn in.” You tell him, his subtle nod in response.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” Joel agrees, “long day ahead of us.”

The clipped responses are feeding a tension you don’t realize until you’re both still standing there, unmoving, swaying with the gentle breeze and somehow feeling warm all over while still surrounded by the bitter cold.

And there’s a quick flash that invades your mind, even while stone cold sober, that has you twitching under his gaze. He sees it, clocks it with his eyes.

There’s no indication that he’s attempting to get a reaction out of you, just lingering in wait, waiting for you.

You never make a move to open your door or walk inside and that’s what he’s waiting for, to see you home safe. It’s the whole reason he walked you back, wasn’t it?

Joel says your name quietly, a beckon to bring your attention back to the surface, drowning in your own thoughts but your gaze never faltering, stuck on him.

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks.

It’s a question that has too many answers. And it’s a test too, wondering if you’ll slip up and speak on what you’re trying so hard to hold back.

Too much—is what you should say.

You—is what you want to say.

But instead, you act. That itching feeling overflowing and forcing you to make haste decisions, tired of hearing his voice in the back of your mind, how easily it drove you crazy. The endearing twang that echoed in your head all day long, even when he was miles away.

And you find that Joel is almost expecting it, his hand cupping your face gently, warming the skin as you press in to kiss him cautiously, top lip slotting over his bottom and relaxing, your opposite hand mirroring his own.

It feels too tender, like suddenly Joel is just as breakable as you—it’s terrifying. You pull away suddenly, coming to your senses, wide eyes staring him down. He looks calm.

You hate it.

It feels embarrassing.

He expected it, or at least anticipated it. You can see it on his face.

“Goodnight.” He tells you tenderly, sounding upset with himself but avoiding the choice to make things weird and you’re forever grateful.

You release a soft breath, nodding absently.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and enter your house, finally. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change Tommy’s mind.

It was.

Joel was already waiting by the gates by the time you arrived, food and supplies secured in your bag for the road, two rifles slung securely over his shoulders as he held the reins to the horses, both of them neighing impatiently.

“All good?” Joel asks, avoiding the obvious air of unspoken instances surrounding you two.

You nod confidently, taking the reins away silently.

“All set,” You assure him, guiding your foot through the saddle and mounting the horse, settling yourself as he followed suit, “you?”

Joel echoes your response.

You sigh internally, a deep annoyance settling into your bones. Annoyed with yourself, annoyed with Joel. Just annoyed, wholly and plainly.

Joel didn’t need to admit that he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night prior—he already had enough trouble sleeping on a normal night, but you in his head? That didn’t help.

And it flooded into the morning, still, Joel watching your body sway and rock slowly from the motion of the horse, head tucked away slightly to counter the breeze that prickled your cheeks.

When you finally make it to the dam he breaks the silence, slipping the reins from your hand and nodding toward the front entrance, “I’ll tie ‘em up if you want to settle and sign us in, you can get a fire going?”

He’s asking, not telling. You nod, hopping down carefully and unhooking your bag from the saddle.

“I’ll scream if I need help.” It’s a joke in poor taste.

Joel doesn’t take it too lightly, scowling in response.

“Sorry,” You apologize lamely, “bad joke.”

“Be careful,” Joel stresses, face softening, “keep your gun out until you’ve done a once over of the place.”

It feels like fate is fucking with you, most days. Dangling your life in front of its prey and savoring the outcome, because even with your gun poised carefully at your hip, knife tucked into the strap at your thigh, it doesn’t prepare you for what’s waiting on the other side of that door.

There’s a split second where you think you can talk things down, buy you some time so Joel could get here and settle their nerves, but they’re already on high alert, as are you, and there’s no time to think.

Plus, they don’t seem to be keen on listening.

“Grab her,” The burly man says, blunt weapon held tight in his grip as he goes for your arm, the other man forcing you to the ground with a harsh gasp escaping your chest as your back hits the concrete floor, “just gut her—fuckin’ do it.”

Your brain shuts off, realizing that your strength isn’t nearly matched with theirs, your shrill scream cutting through the commotion.

“Joel!” You tell, hoping he’ll hear, dodging the hand that comes your way to muffle your yells, barking out an even more broken, “Jooooel!”

Your gun is long gone, tossed away in a corner with your hand pinned under someone’s knees, eyes squeezed shut as you struggle for the knife around your thigh blindly. They didn’t have the wits or common sense to strip you properly before they were attacking you, the younger one hesitating at the other’s words.

“I thought you said we were just tyin’ her up.” He responds, sounding panicked.

You grab the knife successfully and pierce it through the young one’s gut with a sickening squish, a garbled groan ripping from his throat—and a rush of a shadow overhead as Joel wrested the other down, coming in from the door on the opposite side of the room, fists connecting with the attackers face with a sickening crunch.

The rage overtakes quickly, adrenaline flooding your body as you shove the man away, pulling the knife out to sink back in once, twice, until the blood fills his mouth and spills over, lifeless eyes staring back.

Your chest heaves with a breath, adjusted your clothes from where they had been pushed aside in the tackle, tossing your knife aside and putting enough distance between your body and the one who’s your killed, watching as Joel sunk the tip of his own knife through the throat of the larger man, draining the life from him in an instant.

Joel has a ferocity in his eyes when they land on you, tossing his knife to the side momentarily as he rises, towering over the body beneath him. He can't be angry with you—he can't.

“Grab your gun,” He tells you, ignoring how easily the rage would have overtaken his body in most situations, buring it away for the moment when he sees how badly you’re shaken up (it wasn't fear, not even close—more like rage), moving around rigidly to grab your gun off the floor, “knife too—then sit down.”

“But the—the bodies, Joel,” Joel can hear the uncertainty in your voice, shaking his head insistently, “we’ve gotta go back—tell Tommy, let them know.”

Joel shakes out his muscles, adjusting his thick leather jacket around his frame and steps over the dead body, moving to stand in front of you, touching you for the first time since last night. It’s not soft or gentle, more leading in an effort to get your attention and pull you out of your gaze, his fingers cupping your jaw, chin falling in the curve where his thumb and pointer finger connect.

You wonder how many times he's done this before—how he'd come to learn to calm people down through his intense eye contact and grounding voice. He could mask his emotions for the sake of others, even when they were threatening to boil over.

“I’ve got it, I’ll take care of this—” His eyes never left yours, eyebrows raising in question as he awaited your acknowledgment, a small nod coming from you, “go wash the blood off and come straight back, okay?”

You nod again, deftly, eyes empty and void of emotion.

“Hey,” Joel calls out, pulling your attention back, “I need you with me—you with me?”

“Yeah—yes,” You mumble weakly, ignoring how tenderly his thumb rubbed the junction of your jaw at the admittance, something you’re sure he wasn’t even aware he was doing, “I’m with you.”

“Go.” He instructs, releasing his hold on you.

His face morphs into resentment as you leave.

He should've stuck by your side. But, then he thinks back to the joke you made in passing and it fuels the anger more.

Joel’s taken care of the bodies by the time you returned, shrugging off his own jacket as he yanked the door closed, barricading it closed with the vacant table stuff in the corner of the room, letting his own paranoia get the better of him. It wasn’t a crime to be too safe, not anymore.

“If they’ve got a group they’ll come here looking for ‘em,” Joel tells you, “but somethin’ tells me we won’t have to worry about that.”

“So, no fire then?”

Joel shakes his head, nodding toward the few camping lateens left haphazardly on a desk, “We’ll use those tonight, better to be safe.”

He would have to explain this to Tommy when he saw him, put the town back on high alert for a while and go to sleep every night worrying that someone was going to snatch his family away again—snatch Ellie away, snatch you away. It was another problem, another stressor, but none of that was new to him.

“I’m gonna do a walkthrough,” He tells you, cocking his gun loudly, a little unnecessarily in your opinion, but his anger is still there, radiating off of him, “keep your gun out and shoot at anything you see that isn’t me.”

He doesn’t want you letting your guard down, which is why his apprehension to relax is valid. You nod quietly, sinking in on yourself as you take a seat on the old, torn up couch.

He’s gone for an hour or two, the sun nearly nonexistent outside now, lamps scattered around the room and bathing you in a low light, gun still clutched in your hand on your lap, safety off.

Joel knocks on the door shortly after, startling you to near death. You hated being jumpy like this, nothing to calm your nerves. You’d always prided yourself for being able to handle yourself in situations like that and you couldn’t explain why you froze—but deep down, you knew.

It was Joel. Worry for him when he wasn’t there, what threat might be awaiting him if they could get the jump so easily on you. You stumble to your feet and pull the door open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the mattress in Joel’s grip.

“Tommy must’ve moved it last time—he doesn’t like sleepin’ when he’s on watch down here.”

You open the door wider, letting him inside and taking the opposite end to help with the weight, settling the mattress up against the edge of the couch and shifting the folded blankets down onto the surface, crouching down onto your knees with a soft sigh as you spread out the blankets.

You don’t realize Joel is watching you until you chance a glance up his way, wondering if this was the moment he’d let you have and berate you until he was blue in the face.

You’ve witnessed it once, with Jesse. He’d nearly risked Ellie’s life on a patrol that should’ve been easy—he still seems a little jumpy in Joel’s presence, rightfully so.

“Look at me,” Joel beckons, adding your name in a demand to grab your attention, “you with me?”

And it breaks you, what little patience you have left in your body.

“Yes, Joel. I am right fucking here.” You snip back at him, throwing the blankets down and standing to full height. You’re tired of his act, hidden behind his pathetic excuse of a kind guise, wanting him to say what he really felt. When he looked at you earlier, hovering over that man’s body, all you could see was contempt. He was upset with you—upset that you allowed yourself to be in danger, ignoring his lectures time and time again, that you weren’t mindful of your surroundings, upset with himself that he wasn’t there from the beginning.

Joel looks offended, like maybe you wounded his ego or something similar, his hand held up defensively.

“You’re the one over there shakin’ like a leaf,” Joel accuses, “I told you to keep your damn gun out, told you to be careful—don’t you try and take that anger out on me.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You cry out in desperation, “careful? Two against one and you’re telling me I wasn’t careful? Fuck you.”

You toss your gun and knife sheath aside for good measure, stripping out of your coat and extra winter layers, his hardened gaze stuck on you.

“I’ll take first watch.” You tell him flatly, reaching for the lantern on the table beside the door that led to the rest of the plant, a maze of halls and room. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Joel knows that if he lets you leave, there is no repairing what little relationship you had—it would return to a tolerance rather than anything else. His hand wraps around your closed fist, forcing the latent back down as he moves to stand in front of you, head tilted your way.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, though it feels unsympathetic coming from him, and he’s blaming it on his tone, “okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joel.” You tell him adamantly. “You said it, it’s done. I’ll let Tommy know you don’t think I can handle myself anymore and you can keep running patrols without me. That’s what you want, right?”

Joel scoffs.

Say no, please say no.

“What are you getting at?” Joel challenges.

“The first time I make a mistake—one that almost kills me and all you can think to do is shift the blame on me? That somehow I’m responsible for not handling it myself?”

He shifts slightly, jaw clenching as he moves his outstretched hand to rest against the doorframe, blocking you from the exit.

“You never let me go alone,” You remind him, “why all the sudden today?”

Joel doesn’t answer. He knows why. He trusted you, trusted that you could handle it. Joel knows you’re not the one to blame, but he can’t battle with his internal guilt of putting you in that position, letting it come out in bursts of wrath.

You lean in slightly, his eyes mindful of your body language, shoving a finger into his chest roughly.

“Why isn’t it your fault, huh?” You ask, baiting a reaction out of him before you can’t stand the look on his face, mouth shut tight as he his eyes trace your movements, the soft brown irises now an encroaching darkness.

You scoff, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It’s a snide comment that has you feeling a surge of confidence that you’ve finally rendered him speechless. “Don’t act like you haven’t been bothered being around me all day—if the kiss bothered you that much you should’ve just told Tommy to switch out. Now, move.”

Joel doesn’t budge.

Now your patience is wearing then, reaching to shove his forearm out of the way, but he’s as solid as steel and doesn’t take too lightly to your touch, gripping your wrist and pulling it back in a harsh grip, one that has your face grimacing in pain.

“Say that again.” Joel demands, his voice shaking you to your core, the sickeningly dark turn it’s taken.

You double down, “Move, Joel.” You say through clenched teeth, yanking your arm back to no avail.

You hadn’t realized how wound up you both were until now, the shared frustration and pique boiling over the edge.

You yank away again, forcing a quick change of position as Joel retaliates, shoving you against the table by the door, your legs buckling from the force of it as he towers over you.

“I apologized,” He glared at you through hooded eyes, chin tilting down slightly, “it’s your turn.”

You scoff softly, never making a move to push him away, his legs crowding between yours as they spread involuntarily, the only thing keeping you upright being the grip he had on your arm, leaving you hanging by a thread. If he let go, you’d surely collapse.

“Why don’t you tell me why you really switched patrols?” Joel suggests, tilting his head in interest. “Don’t lie to me—I’ll know.”

There was a side of you that couldn’t stand being around him, his proximity driving you crazy. But, there’s a bigger part that yearned to be around him, by his side—it was never like this at first, but you found yourself unable to escape him lately.

You want to blame him for letting you in, letting his guard down—but you can’t. It wasn’t just his fault. It wasn’t just yours.

You craved each other. Plain and simple.

“You tell me,” You counter, “I’m not the one keeping you from leaving.”

It snaps Joel—that feeling he’s been burying away all day. He’s nearly insatiable over it.

He trades his grip on your wrist for your face, too quick to counter before he’s gripping your chin again like earlier, but under completely different pretenses, your mouth lolling open at the force and pulling a soft grunt from your lips, eyes narrow in defiance.

“You are so goddamn stubborn,” He complains, eyes scanning over your face slowly, “—and you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You laugh bitterly, a choked gasp.

He's never touched you like this, but intensity is all too familiar.

His grip was tight, your mind flashing back to the first time he held you, though involuntarily. There was intention now, meaning—and you needed him to give in to it.

You blink once, slow, eyes staying shut for a moment longer than needed. There’s a soft sigh that leaves your nose, ghosts over Joel’s outstretched palm. When you open your eyes, there’s little left of the Joel you’ve become accustomed to.

“We’ve got all night, Joel.” His nostrils flare in warning, “Go on—do it.”

He won’t. Joel wouldn’t let himself. You’re waiting for the moment he lets you go, shuffles away and tucks himself into a corner for the rest of the night. But, it never comes.

Instead he’s surging forward, tilting your chin up roughly and forcing his lips against your own, nothing like the delicate kiss shared the night prior. There’s no gradual increase, no soft sighs and hesitant touches. He doesn’t want that and neither do you.

You open your mouth in an airy gasp of breath and Joel jumps on the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, into your mouth, pressing against your own until you finally, finally return his touch. He feels the heat, the weight of your hand where it rests against the seam of his jeans, fingers resting over his belt and your knuckles pressing into the firmness of his stomach, his breathing steady despite his eagerness to ravish you. He greedily pulls your bottom lip between his own, sucking lewdly until his teeth drag against the skin, pulling back with untamed eyes.

You narrow your eyes with intrigue, mouth quipping up into a smirk at his final break of self control, allowing himself what he wanted. There was no turning back now.

He grips your hands, yanking you upright and forcing you to turn until your hip bones are hitting the blunt edge of the table, his movements haste but pointed, his palms rubbing over the soft curve of your hips, pressing underneath the material of your shirt and squeezing the skin.

“Joel—“ You sing softly, your tone mocking.

“Keep quiet,” He warns, pulling you back suddenly and against his front, the heaviness of his cock pressing into your backside, strained through his jeans and craving a selfish need for release—it’s been too long for him and he’s bursting at the seams, “don’t wanna hear your smartass remarks.”

And you can hear the restraint in his voice, drowning in his thoughts—he wanted to ravish and pull you apart, not thinking about how he would put you back together and make you whole again. You shift back against him, a greedy rut of your ass against the stiff denim and he’s grunting under the weight of it.

“Get ‘em down,” He instructs, yanking at your jeans briefly before his touch is gone, hands working swiftly at his own.

The rustle of his belt is deafening, metal clanging against something solid, the quick shuffle of his zipper and the shifting off fabric. You rise without hesitation, unbuttoning your jeans and wiggling them far enough down your hips until they hit your knees, underwear following roughly as Joel shoved them down impatiently, bunching your shirt higher up your back as he rubs his fingers over your cunt sleazily.

He’s waiting a beat, eyes examining you from behind and looking for any sign that you didn’t want this—it never comes. In fact, the subtle push back into his fingers is enough, two thick digits sinking inside slowly.

You gasp ruggedly, feeling the immediate difference in fullness to your own, the touch of someone else that you haven’t felt in so long. Joel is desperate, but so are you.

You turn your face to the side, cheek pressed against the hard surface, fingers gripping either side of the table and you let yourself melt into his touch, his fingers working you over steadily, his other hand squeezing at the soft globes of your ass, following the insistent and impatient wiggle of your hips as you seek more friction, more fullness until Joel can’t stand it anymore, palm coming down in a rough slap to your backside to still you, a warning.

“You treat all the ladies like this?”

He should’ve known you wouldn’t give yourself over this easy, his stifled chuckle coming from behind, low and dark, until he’s quickly switching back to menacing, his fingers increasing with speed and intensity, dragging a third finger along your center and pressing it in smoothly, forcing a lewd moan from your lips as you grip the edges of the table harder, willing to strain your neck for a look his way, a glimpse at his face to see how this was affecting him. You could only imagine, his groans stifled behind heavy puffs of air forced through his nose when you forced yourself back against his cock, inadvertently rubbing yourself against the length of his shaft.

“Fine, keep acting like you hate me.”

The loss of fingers is sudden, fingers fisting into your hair with a sudden fierceness as he pulls you upright, your hands grasping for purchase. He tilts your head back, allowing you the smallest glimpse of his face as he looks forward, talking to you but never allowing you the eye contact you desperately craved.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart.”

You shake your head in disbelief, lifting your hand up to wind into his own overgrown hair, curling wildly. You pull taut, reveling in the grunt that slips past his lips.

“You don’t scare me, Joel.”

He never could. You’ve seen all sides of him, the good and the bad—there was nowhere left for him to hide.

But, he should, he thinks. You should be terrified.

“I don’t remember sayin’ I wanted to hear your voice,” Joel reprimands, “can’t fuckin’ listen today, can you?”

He turns his head toward you slightly, catching the playful glint in your eyes, the type that was asking to be pushed. Begging for it.

“Depends,” You smile, releasing the rough grip on his hair to slide between your bodies, cupping his cock from where he’s tucked it over his briefs, also pushed haphazardly down his hips, “are you going to fuck me, Joel?”

His name shouldn’t sound like that, falling from your lips in such a circumstance, but it drags a rabidness out of him he’s never felt before.

“Say it again.” Joel demands—and you already know.

“Joel,” Your voice is sultry, dangerous, adding a squeeze of your hand to his length, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock, smoothing the slick of precum over the slit, “you started this, too afraid to finish it?”

Joel smirks at that, a smug expression crossing his face as releases the grip on your hair, shoving your hand away and gripping himself at the base, removing his fingers from inside you and replacing them with a slow press of his cock, watching your expression fall lax, mouth hung open in a silent release of pleasure.

“You underestimate me,” He shakes his head in amusement, his own brow furrowing at your snug hold on him, walls clenching around him involuntarily, “Now, why don’t we teach you a lesson?”

You nod numbly, gasping loudly at the sudden change in pace, body shifting to lean forward and Joel’s hands slotting against your body, one secured firmly on your hip, the other guiding you back with a steady pressure against your shoulder, immediately blanking your mind, whatever rude quip you had poised was failing you.

“So — goddamn — stubborn,” He echoes from earlier, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, no restraint, divulging in the pleasure both of you have been seeking for a while, “don’t fuckin’ listen, always testin’ me.”

You release a soft cry, reaching an arm behind you to squeeze at his side, tightening with every sharp thrust, the head of his cock nudging something deep inside of you, the feeling coiling in your gut despite yourself. It’s a dull ache, mewling desperately when he forgoes his hold on your hip to keep your arm stuck, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold you steady, eyes shifting to watch you sink onto him with an unrestrained eagerness.

“Nothin’ to say now?” Joel pesters you, thumb rubbing the tender spot at the base of your neck, the start of your spine between your shoulder blades—your silence lingers, at least in words, your pathetic noises keeping you busy.

He feels like he’s finally got the upper hand with you, he just never realized this was what it would take.

“Fuck—fuck, Joel.” You say through a stuttered sigh.

Joel grimaces from behind you, that longing feeling of release creeping on him, too long without it and he feels pathetic for it, but you—the sounds, the view.

Oh, the view. It’s your neediness for it that sucks him in, how eager your cunt is to take hold, the wet squelch growing louder, your slick soaking the base of his cock.

“Why’d you kiss me, huh?” Joel questions firmly, trying to draw the truth out in the heat of the moment, your movements growing desperate as you orgasm creeped in, blunt nails digging into his skin. He hissed, pulling you in tight, trading the hand on your shoulder for a squeeze to your chest, palm the mound of your breast through your shirt—still enough contact to drive you insane.

“Wanted to—wanted to see how you would react.” You admit, but there was also that selfish need. You kissed him because you wanted to—and you knew he did too.

Joel huffs in response, not fully believing you.

“Try again,” Joel assesses the way your body tenses when his hand shifts down, pressing over his fingers over your clit and driving you over the edge in an instant, your body arching into his touch as you come, a broken moan falling from your lips, “why?”

“Doesn’t matter—you kissed me back,” You argue tiredly, “You wanted it just as much as I did. Clearly.”

And in a way, it’s all the confession he needs.

Joel growls lowly, pulling out abruptly to grip himself, squeezing himself at the head to delay his orgasm until it fades, face scrunching up tightly in anguish.

“What—what are you doing?”

Joel is already tucking himself back into his pants by the time you turn around, his expression stiff and avoiding your gaze.

There it was again, the avoidance.

You don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does.

“I’ll take the first watch,” He says, shuffling backwards slightly, “get dressed.”

You stare back blanky, at a loss for words.

“Did you hear me?” He asks bluntly, brow now permanently furrowed in frustration.

“But—you didn’t—“

The silence lingers, your head tilting in question. Your expression softens suddenly, pulling weakly at your jeans to secure them back over your hips.

“Get some sleep, we’ll head out early tomorrow.”

You still had to send a bigger team to scout the place thoroughly, a distant memory now.

You’re so fucking confused. A few minutes prior he was lost in the moment, though still wound up and tense—but it was the biggest break in demeanor he’s ever given you, the most he’s allowed himself to touch you, be close to you.

Joel didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t deserve it. He was trying to convince himself it was a mistake, that this was a fluke.

He clears his throat awkwardly, hesitating for a brief moment as his hand hovers over the doorknob before he’s leaving you alone. Again.

Joel handles himself later that night, long after you’ve gone asleep, a permanent frown on your face when he peeks his head in before he’s traveling down the hall to a separate room, cupping himself in his palm eagerly, groaning out your name as he comes.

Somehow, it makes him feel even worse.

The week that follows is tumultuous.

Tommy swears you and Joel off of patrol for a while, tells you that as soon as he has you two alone, gathering the full story of the attack, but somehow—Joel always weasels his way out.

He’s gone most of the daylight, leaving you to fill your days around Jackson, helping wherever it was needed. And when it wasn’t, you were stuck inside your home, watching the snow melt from the ground, only to be covered with a new blanket of it the next day.

Joel always comes home late, heavy feet scuffling down the sidewalk after dark and entering his house, Ellie having already turned in for the night. His bedroom light comes on a few minutes later and it never shuts off, his shadow crossing the window every now and then.

He can’t sleep, but neither can you.

At first you blamed it on the bodies—but none of that was new to you. You’ve killed before, animals, infected, raiders, even a few bystanders in a situation long ago, nothing they’ve done to end up the way they did.

You followed a bad group for too long, but eventually you found Jackson—things were different here. Joel’s told you about the horrible things he’s done to survive, assures you it wasn’t anything you could blame yourself for.

This world made people rabid. It made people afraid.

There were people, much like Joel, that used to terrify you. But this Joel, he was lost and worn down, weathered by the world and by age. He’s afraid to let himself indulge, enjoy—you saw it that night, his hesitancy to look at you afterwards.

And that ache that lingered for a few days, it made you realize that you were missing something you couldn’t have. It was clear on Joel’s face that he’d made a mistake. With you.

Joel looks bitter the week that follows, you having convinced Tommy to let you back out, assuring him that nothing was wrong. He’s hesitant, rightfully so, but you’re too convincing.

You even offer to run patrol with him, or Jesse—literally anyone but Joel, who seemed obviously disgruntled by your presence that morning.

Tommy clocks it immediately, swiping a finger between you both, “You know what—I’m sending you two out together.” It’s dreadful. “Take the lodge again,” and Tommy waits for everyone to part ways, except for Joel and you, before he’s eyeing you both down, “work out whatever argument you both have going—or you’re both coming off patrols until I feel like putting you back on.”

Joel grumbles at that, adjusting the thick gloves over his hand and shaking his head with a look down. Tommy seems slightly apologetic when you lock eyes, but it’s necessary. You were too scared to admit it to yourself, but it’s exactly what you needed.

You can’t be bothered to stay still, wandering around the lodge aimlessly, picking up some scattered trash, sifting through the small library that had accumulated over time, worn and slightly rained over books, the pages stiff and discolored.

Joel’s cheeks are still tinged pink from his last watch, arms crossed over his stomach as he glares at the small fire burning in the fire pit, crackling softly in the silence.

He’s being insistently stubborn, somehow managing to avoid any exchange of words in the past eight hours, not giving you his usual orders, whether delivered in a clipped tone or a kind one—it’s just nothing.

And considering how talkative he was last time you ran patrol with him, you found it to be bullshit.

You grab a random book, large and bulky and make your way toward him—he sees you coming but he ignores it, the book hitting solid against his chest as you force it there, making a snide comment to rattle him.

“To entertain yourself, since you’re so miserable,” Your eyes drag over his face, his eyes lilting up your way, the fire melting them into a warm, honey brown, “and you won’t even have to worry about finishing.”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, thinking that he might pull you toward him, but he tosses it away, throwing the book to the side too. You sigh through your nose, frustrated.

“What’s it gonna take, Joel?”

There’s an ire of defeat in your voice, a willingness to do just about anything to put this to rest.

“Do I need to leave Jackson, is that it?”

That gets his attention, his gaze narrowing fiercely.

“Don’t say that shit,” He bites, “you got a death wish or something?”

“Well, you clearly don’t want me around, so who cares?”

Joel bites at the inside of his cheek—he didn’t agree with that.

“Give me something, Joel. Anything.” You plead, hand accidentally brushing his thigh as you fall into the spot beside him, imitating the closeness he craved but couldn’t bring himself to ask for, not again.

He tenses under your touch, fist curling at his side, noticing how you pointedly keep your grip there.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning.

But, it’s the biggest sign he’s given you. There was still a fondness there, lingering behind wall after wall that he’s built up.

He doesn’t move your hand either, your fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh, along the seam and stopping where his jeans creased at his groin, palm settling over the curve of his thigh.

“So, do we work things out or not?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, talking like you might scare him away.

And, yeah—Joel wasn’t big on hashing things out, confessing his thoughts or emotions and conveying them into words, that was never a surprise to you. But, you needed equal ground.

You weren’t looking for a confession or some dramatic change in pace with your relationship—whatever you could classify it as. A partnership, maybe?

You need something mutually beneficial, something that was give and take on both ends.

You squeeze at the junction of his thigh, taut muscle giving way as Joel shows little signs of being affected. His eyes follow though, acutely aware of your intention.

This was you returning the favor.

This was you cornering him, like he had you—if he didn’t want it he would’ve pushed you away ages ago, but he does want it. He needs it.

His jaw flexes under the weight of your grip, watching you move slowly to sink to the ground, thankful that this floor wasn’t nearly as dirty as most places. Joel shifts slightly to accommodate you, thighs spreading open to box you in, hands coming to rest down at his side, flat against the cushion.

You push at his coat lightly, forcing it away from his chest until he gets the idea, stripping himself the rest of the way, his unbuttoned flannel falling open.

You work quietly, eyes flicking up toward him occasionally to check in, make sure he was still with you. He’s mesmerized now, despite himself. Locked in.

He doesn’t stop your hands when they reach for the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning and loosening them in one fluid motion, tugging at his jeans until, again, he catches on, forcing them down just enough.

It’s surprising how in tune he is with you despite how hard he tried to keep his distance, hoping that one big mistake would fade away—but frankly, it hadn’t left either of your minds since then.

“Touch yourself.” You command softly, an amused aspect to your voice.

Joel balks slightly, his bewilderment something to enjoy.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Is that too personal? Sorry–I should’ve considered that when I let you fuck me over a table.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, but he listens. Thank god. He slips his fingers under the band of his underwear, palming himself lightly under the fabric, leaving you to lean back onto your heels, enjoying the lazy show he put on for you.

He had nothing to be ashamed of.

His fingers roll against the taut skin of his sack, drifting upwards over his shaft until he finally has the courage to shift his underwear to sit snug under his balls, watching your eyes drift from his cock to his face. Joel’s mouth parted briefly, rubbing his thumb over the head, glistening with a sheen of precum, your hands itching to touch him.

He knows it will lead to nothing but bad outcomes, but he’s indulging in it. Allowing it.

“Come here,” He’s using his free hand to beckon you forward, leaving his palm extending for you to lean into, resting your chin there gently, “open your mouth.”

You obliges, sweetening the deal by sticking your tongue out, earning a gruff laugh in response, softening your gaze on him. There were plenty of other ways to resolve things, but this was so much easier.

He slides the head over your tongue in a deft slap, slipping it past your lips slowly before he’s pulling back and repeating the process again, watching as you eagerly follow his movements until you’re bordering on impatience.

“Don’t think you have the upper hand here, sweetheart.” Joel says, eyebrow quirking up in amusement at your annoyed expression. “You want it?”

You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowing. “You want me to beg for it?”

Joel chuckles at the thought, shaking his head. “I didn’t pin you as the type.”

Cheeky Joel was something to admire, rolling your eyes and shoving his hands away, allowing yourself to take over fully and leaving him with nothing to do but watch, rolling your tongue around the head and through the slit, mouth enveloping the heady taste of him.

Joel was always good at keeping his composure, even now–but you were looking to break him down, nothing but a mumbling, begging mess of himself, even for a brief moment.

You take him in slowly, soft and parted lips pressing down the length of him, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your tongue, cheeks, until he’s nudging the back of your throat and you swallow out of reflex.

His knuckles flex, turning white as he curls them inwards and digs into the cheap cushion, the stitching protesting under his grip.

There he is.

You make a small noise, a soft bubble of laughter out of pure enjoyment, pulling back with a showy drag of your tongue up his shaft until you’re sinking down again, burying your nose in the short, trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock, ignoring that telltale feeling to let up, breathing deep through your nose.

“Goddamnit,” He curses, the hand not gripping the cushion rising slightly before slamming back down in a fist, the material taking most of the blow, “you gotta ease up on me.”

He doesn’t add the please, but you can see it’s implied.

You smile sweetly when you pull away, a thin line of spit connecting your lips to the wet head of his cock, stroking him languidly to keep busy, running your thumb along the thick vein that traced along the underside.

“Don’t think so,” It’s sickening, tone laced in sugar and daring him—for what, you weren’t sure, “—more?”

Joel nods quickly, widening his stance as he sunk further into the couch, your hands bracing against his stomach as he filtered his fingers through your hair, framing it away from your face as you continued, driving him to near insanity with how easily you would take him down over and over again, stopping to tease your tongue over the head of his cock, realizing just how sensitive that part of him was.

He grunts on a particular rough pass, yanking your hair back and allowing a centimeter of reprice as your lips barely brush the aching tip, “You can stop, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

It feels like a punishment, not allowing himself to seek that relief—he sees it as a barrier, that by not allowing it, things won’t ever reach a point of no return. Not that this wasn’t already dangerous enough—it’s a ridiculous rule, but Joel follows it. He’d give you as much pleasure as you asked and then some, if that’s what you wanted.

And it clicks in your head slowly, his cock pulsing dully in your hands, begging for it.

No. He wasn’t doing that again.

“No,” You echo your thoughts, “Give me your hand.”

“Darlin’—“

“Joel, shut up.” You demand, gripping his open palm and replacing it with your own, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Joel looks conflicted, eyebrow pinching in a mix of pleasure and regret, his mind blanking the moment you press a gentle kiss to the head, pressing your tongue flat again and moving his hand in tandem until he starts to give in, his breaths becoming shorter, more strangled.

“That’s it,” You mumble a praise through his haziness—he doesn’t know how to take it, the feeling so foreign to him, “take control, Joel.”

His eyes fall shut briefly, forcing focused breaths through his nose as his free hand grips your face, keeping you still as he strokes himself roughly, that last string of self control breaking under your gaze when he tilts his head down to look at you, soft gaze staring back at him and he’s coming over your tongue and into your mouth with a warm rush, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he squeezes up to the tip, milking every last bit of himself into your mouth before he’s pulling away and gently guiding your mouth closed.

“Shit—“ He groans quietly, cupping himself tenderly as he pulls away, watching you swallow and tracing a trace of him at the corner of your lip back into your mouth with your thumb, staring him down intently, “you’re fuckin’ greedy, you know that?”

You shrug proudly, rising to your feet slowly, the ache from sitting crouched so long singing a protest from your joints.

“Add it to the list,” You snark at him, taking a casual seat beside him as he tucks himself away, your hands working carefully to roll up your jacket and tuck it under your head as you recline, laying down on your side, “right?”

Joel scoots away to accommodate you, looking perplexed at how quickly you’ve changed your demeanor, yawning until your eyes squeeze shut.

“Stop staring and get some sleep, Joel.” You gripe, reaching blindly to ball his coat up and toss it at his chest, “Problem solved, we’re even now.”

Joel puffs through his lips, ignoring that lingering feeling as you very quickly forced the distance between him and you—a payback to his own previous actions. It hurts, stings, and now he realizes what that meant and why that frown never left your face before, not even on the ride home or long thereafter.

He’s fucked.

To say things escalate is an understatement.

The two of you never actually talk, avoiding all aspects of emotional vulnerability in turn for your usual interactions—small conversations, jokes, driving each other up the wall with the constant close proximity due to your assigned jobs. But, now there’s more.

There's the Joel that wants and takes, stops holding back his desires and gives you just about every possible orgasm from then on. This Joel is insatiable if he allows himself to be. He’s downright filthy and terrifying when it mattered and he found that the more you seemed to give yourself over, the easier it was for him to stop worrying so much.

And he seems lighter nowadays, happier—though, it was still Joel. There was only so much to enjoy, his smiles few and far between. However, that smirk, laced in a smugness he carried with himself when he was alone with you—it had become a regular sight to see and something you craved when you’d finally get him alone.

It never starts off slow. Joel’s always itching by the time rotation leads you his way. You two keep it close to your chest like a secret–saving times like this strictly for patrols.

Joel doesn’t even wait sometimes, cornering you the moment the horses are tied up, bags set aside, crowding up behind you as he wrangles your jeans down, along with his, and presses himself inside you with a deep grunt, pressing you up against whatever hard surface was near–it didn’t matter, the ferocity of his thrusts clouding your mind.

It’s punishment for how well you tease him on the rides there, thighs spread wide over the saddle and always riding just a few inches ahead, leaning forward enough that you can stick out your ass, Joel’s eyes drawing toward you immediately.

It was easy.

“You like messin’ with me, don’t you?” He chastises, palming at the inside of your thigh in desperation, pulling you wider and wider for him until it aches and you have nothing to do but take it. “Fuckin’ with my head?”

You laugh breathily, head thrown back against his shoulder as you moan wantonly, thick fingers bearing down on your throat, keeping you tight against him. “It’s not my fault–fault you can’t control it.” You reply innocently, stumbling over your words when his fingers press against your core.

And it’s often like this. Fast, hurried, no care or soft, caressing touches involved. It’s simpler that way.

But, eventually, Joel breaks down–little by little.

A week or two passes by and Joel seems desperate.

“What did I just say?” He seethed, voice laced with annoyance, “Keep your eyes open.”

He’s right there, his hand, his fingers, buried deep inside your cunt. Joel’s on edge again, having ordered you to strip down naked while he remained completely clothed, the cold air prickling your skin like this, the lingering days of Winter coming to a close. It’s dark here, wet and mucky, the only barrier between you and the floor is an old blanket that Joel had stowed away in his saddle. He spent the last two weeks dealing with a copious amount of shit–killing more infected than they’re used to, dealing with mundane problems around Jackson that shouldn’t be his problems, but in being Tommy’s brother, he took a piece of the burden off of him.

You gasp sharply, feeling the force of Joel’s grip as he orders your eyes open, an impossible feat in the moment with how easily he’s able to bring you near the edge with just his fingers–something he found out fairly quickly.

“Joel–Joel, please,” You beg–it’s new for you, something you don’t do often, “let me–fuck–”

“Hmm, sweetheart?” Joel questions, igniting a fire in your belly that won’t go out. He likes you this way, clawing at him, nearly on the brink of tears over how bad you need him. “Spit it out.”

You’re hastily shoving him away, brow pinched in determination as you shove him down, working desperately at his buckle, his pants, working them down with little care or finesse, gripping the length of him and sinking down in one quick movement.

It punches a moan out of Joel’s chest that you’re not used to, his head slamming pack against his bag, the makeshift pillow he’s got stuffed behind his head as he grips your hips tight, eyes locked on the center where you’re both connected, grunting with the hurried bounce of your hips, losing what little patience you had left as you chase your orgasm, shoving his shirt up his chest to feel him–all soft, tanned skin under your fingertips as you brace yourself against him, using the surface for leverage.

He can’t stand to watch you this way, tits jostling with every hurried thrust, blunt nails clawing at his abdomen, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, again. He likes you facing away because he can hide his own inflections, how well you drive him wild–you’ve never cared, especially not now.

Joel grunts raggedly, forcing out a hoarse whisper, “You’re fuckin’ killing me here.”

A soft laugh bubbles in your chest, head lolling forward and eyes opening to look at him.

“Mmm, eyes on me, Joel.” You beckon, his slow gaze trailing upwards, nodding in response to his wrecked state, hair sticking up wildly, teeth grazing his bottom lip gently. “God–it feels so good, doesn’t it?

Joel nods absently, his hands slipping from your hips to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands, aware of how your touch burns a trail up toward his face, coaxing his bottom lip to freedom, grazing your thumb over the soft tissue, soothing the ache.

You ignore how easily he takes the pad of it over his tongue and lets you press the digit beyond his lips, how willing he’s being to let you take what you want.

He pulls out before he comes, spilling into his hand to contain the mess, leaving you enraptured with his expression as his face pulls up in anguish, the same expression he has when he’s bothered or annoyed but edged with something more, his breath catching.

He rolls you back over soon after, replacing his hand with his mouth, hot tongue lapping into your folds and tasting, savoring, the mix of you two tangled together and he devours until you come, hand yanking hard at his hair.

April comes quickly—it means longer patrols, more problems out in the field with the infected less dormant, and Jackson coming alive more often at night, everyone enjoying the weather after a bitter winter.

You find yourself at Tommy’s doorstep one night.

Maria had been planning this dinner for a few weeks, something special for Tommy’s birthday, and somehow you got roped into going.

It was Ellie.

Joel was the least bit surprised when you showed up at the front door that night, dressed up nicer than he’s had the privilege to witness. You’re smiling, a flowy dress cutting off mid-thigh, forgoing the usual sweater with the air warming up, leaving your shoulders bare.

Joel nods in greeting when Ellie peeks around his shoulder, beaming at the sight out of you.

“Thank god,” She groans, “Those two are insufferable together,” Tommy and Joel, “—they’ve been arm wrestling each other in the backyard for the last hour.”

Your eyebrows raise, looking over at Joel. He’s got the hint of a smile on his face, looking down at Ellie before he’s shoving her away with a palm to the crown of her head, his arm flexing under the fitted cotton shirt he wore, muscle on full display.

It’s easy to forget how strong Joel is under all those layers, but it’s even more apparent now with how often you find him stripped down underneath you, behind you, watching him become more and more comfortable around you as the weeks pass, finally giving in to whatever it was that you two were indulging in.

It was mostly sex—a means for release and often a cure for boredom and neither of you minded it much, but there was something lingering in the shadows.

You were good at ignoring it, apparently so was Joel.

He leads you to the backyard with a silence you’ve become accustomed to, and spends most of the dinner laughing at Ellie’s terrible and poorly timed jokes. It’s such a sight, seeing how effortlessly Ellie can break that man down, and you realize just how deeply he cared for her, even if she wasn’t his daughter.

He glances at you frequently, a silent check-in.

You were fine—a little tired, maybe?

You excuse yourself to the bathroom with a flick of your hair behind your ear and a whine in protest from your chair as it scrapes the floor, leaving the rest of the party in the backyard while you traverse inside.

It isn’t long before there’s a knock behind the closed door and that unsettling creak, only to be met face to face with Joel. He looks relaxed, placated, his face falling into a natural smirk.

And based on the drink in his hand, slightly inebriated.

“Lost?” You tease, fixing yourself idly in the mirror, watching as Joel crossed the threshold and nudged the door close behind him. “Joel–”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel soothes, “Tommy thinks I’m using the one upstairs, everyone’s outside.”

You don’t need him to explain to know what he’s implying. But, for him to want you here–now? That was different. You hate how it made your heart skip, realizing how willing he was to risk this bond of secrecy because he just couldn’t get you out of his head.

His glass slides against the countertop, the soft scuff of his boots grazing the floor as he moves in behind you, causing you to pull away slightly as he raises a hand, brushing your strap down your shoulder and mouthing the skin there, “You’re drunk.” You muse, earning a subtle shake of his head.

“Not at all,” Joel denies, “can’t be in a good mood?”

You sigh at his touch, opposite hand grazing under your dress and over the skin of your stomach, pinky finger grazing the hem of your underwear.

“When are you ever?”

Joel ignores your snark, “Don’t act like you don’t want it, sweetheart.”

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the wetness that coats his finger as he dips it under the fabric and down the center of your cunt, “Joel,” You stress, “there’s people outside, we can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” He says softly, “Ellie’s gone home, Tommy and Maria are busy with a neighbor–if you want me to stop, tell me. You don’t need to make excuses.”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“Been needin’ this all day,” He admits, cupping your mound roughly, shifting to press the hard line of his chest against your back, pulling you taut, his idle fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, “This is cute–it’s a nice dress.”

You roll your eyes, though fondly. He can’t see it, face buried into your neck as he mouths along the skin, slipping the straps of your dress down until your tits spring free, nipples pebbling under the cool air.

“Are we talking or fucking?” You ask impatiently, pointedly rubbing your ass back against his body, earning a dark chuckle in response.

“I never said anything about fucking,” Joel points out smugly, “but since you’re askin.”

It’s the impatiences that brings you to take matters into your own hands, sliding your dress up high enough that Joel can yank your underwear down, undoing his pants with one hand and freeing himself hastily, sliding into you roughly, forcing a strained gasp from your throat.

Joel shushes you, covering your mouth with his hand.

“Careful, these walls ain’t soundproof.” He warns, his forceful thrusts plunging you forward, eyes dragging toward the mirror image of you and him, a sight to see as he smirks from behind, admiring you openly. “Look at you.”

He grin’s devilishly, your senses overwhelmed, showing through your eyes as you squeezed them shut, only to be forced back open by Joel’s coaxing voice.

He clicks his tongue in warning, breath hot against your ear. “Open those eyes, sweetheart. Need you to see how good you’re takin’ my cock,” You whine into his hand, his brutal thrust driving you further into the countertop, ignoring the pain that spreads, overtaken by the insatiable need to come, “and how pretty you look when you come.”

Pretty. He’s never used that word before. It sends a flutter through your chest, down to your core.

It’s more intense this way, the subtle pull in Joel’s face when he drives deeper, his own orgasm on the horizon. His teeth grit hard, small peaks of it as he bares his lips back in a growl, squeezing at the soft planes of your body that he could reach, driving you over the edge with little warning, not that you needed the help.

Seeing him this way was enough. God, was it enough.

“Fuck, fuck—“ He curses a symphony, holding himself back as he gripped at the base of his shaft and you jump at the opportunity, turning to him in a haze and sinking to your knees despite the cold floor beneath you, urging him with a silent plea as you open your mouth to him, nodding subtly.

That’s all it takes for him, a few quick strokes of his cock and he’s spilling into your mouth, head hung back at how intensely it hits him, the skin of his neck straining over the muscle, his mouth open in a soundless grunt.

Luckily, Joel is the one that takes care of the goodbyes. You wouldn’t be able to face Tommy or Maria after such an instance, adjusting yourself back to a semi-presentable state in the bathroom, with some of Joel’s help as he sets your dress back over your shoulders.

It shouldn’t feel endearing, not in this context. But, it does.

“Wait for me out front,” He tells you, buckling his pants, eyes connecting with yours briefly, squinting curiously, he reaches a hand forward and wiping a mix of spit and what you can only assume is his come, away from your mouth and onto his jeans, “—you had a little…”

You both laugh at the unspoken, rubbing a tired hand over your face as you nod, shoving him away playfully.

Things are vastly different when you’re facing him on your doorstep now, his lingering presence a hint at what he didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Stay for a while?” You suggest softly, nodding toward your front door.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Joel agrees.

You never realize how much Joel likes to talk about music until he’s finally found himself relaxed, your body reclined into his open, outstretched legs as he adjusts himself sideways. It doesn’t feel intimate, no—but it feels different. Joel rests a hand over your shoulder, massaging the tight muscle with a steady grip. His voice is nice, soothing.

You fall asleep like this, but Joel is already gone by morning.

By June, things are confusing. Good, but…confusing.

Joel and you have a routine by now—off days were usually spent at your house, occasionally Joel’s (but rarely) and only when Ellie wasn’t around, the days that were spent patrolling were fairly normal, aside from the insistent touching you both allowed yourself now, always leading to something neither of you could be bothered to stop.

Joel’s vocal about things now—what he likes, what he wants, but he’s also holding back. You can see it when things get a little too intense, hands grabbing at clothes, pulling each other in with a rabidness that neither of you could calm.

He doesn’t kiss you, not really. He likes to nip and bite and leave bruises where only he can see them, but he won’t allow his eyes to linger on your face for too long, your lips, too afraid things might be misconstrued.

Not that it mattered, Joel was already fucked beyond repair. He’s only ever felt this intensely once, before—his relationship with Sarah’s mom was a fling that turned into something more, but ultimately fizzled, crashed and burned. It gave him Sarah, but he never understood what heartbreak was until then, young and naive and wanting to make things work.

Clearly, they never did.

He feels that with you, though he’s smarter now. He can be cold and distant when he feels that pull in his chest, push away just enough that you won’t pry. But, you’re smart—you’re stubborn, so goddamn stubborn.

And he knows eventually, things are going to implode.

He just didn’t expect it to happen like this.

You were starting to hate the lodge, finding yourself lingering to the connecting shops down the road—a guitar store that Joel and Tommy picked through often, a small coffee shop further down the way that didn’t have much left for picking, but it helped when you felt cooped up, a nice change of scenery.

But even then, the lodge wasn't a luxury to patrol anymore. Summer is practically unbearable most days there, the building always too warm, too stuffy.

Joel had other ideas this time around, stripping you down slowly by the couch nestled against the large window that overlooked the rest of the small town surrounding it.

It was quiet here.

Joel presses you into the soft velvet cushion, his own body stripped bare, a combat to the heat, he says.

You didn’t mind. In fact, it was everything you wanted.

He’s never allowed such contact, all of you against him, the slow push of his hips inside of you has you gasping softly, fingers gripping his biceps. His place is slow, dreadful, and you both are already sweating, skin sticky and damp.

Joel doesn’t seem to mind.

He seems needier today, more willing to let the sounds slip from his mouth, his hands more curious, pulling your knee tight around his hip and gripping at the knee, head tilting up as he huffed through his nose, tense jaw, teeth clenched. He’s looking off distantly, not at you or your body, or anywhere in your vicinity really, but the torture on his face is all the same. He couldn’t hide it.

You moan softly, mumbling soft praises under your breath when he fucks into you hard enough it has you clawing at his chest, gripping tight at his shoulder, seeking whatever skin you could touch.

Eventually, your touch lingers near his face, palm spreading over his warm cheek, thumb running along the strong hook of his nose, forcing his attention down toward you. Your fingertips graze his lips gently, other hand mirror the action as you caress his face, his eyes closing under your touch.

The arm holding him upright nearly gives you, barely catching himself as his chest is pressed in tight against yours, changing the angle immensely.

That couldn't have been you’re doing—not a chance. But, you’re curious. You guide his face to your chest, his mouth sliding lazily against the skin as he pumps into you steadily. You meet his rough grunts with whispered praises, his breath becoming more frantic as time goes on until he’s finally chancing a look your way, eyes soft and pleading. He looks lost. You frown slightly, guiding his face toward yours and ghosting your own lips against his, never quite indulging, keeping the praises going with a soft whisper.

“God, you always fuck me so good,” You say in a breathy whisper against his lips, “so good, Joel.”

Joel squeezes you tighter, a sign of his impending orgasm. “Right there,” You sigh, “fuck—you feel that? Need this all the time, everyday.”

This. Him.

“Sweetheart—“ He warns, grunting into your open mouth, knees buckling as you slide your tongue against his teeth, grazing his top lip.

“Don’t—don't,” You panic, eyes connecting with him suddenly, “wanna feel you, all of you.”

It was something Joel could reflect on later, consider the consequences, because now was not that time—not with you looking at him so earnestly, pleading with him.

He slips a calculated hand between your joined bodies and has you both hanging over the edge in seconds, gasping into each other’s mouth in desperation as Joel does something completely selfish and unlike him.

He kisses you, no qualms or hesitation. It’s messy and wet but it’s him—his mouth soothes the ache as your orgasm overwhelms your body, his own chest rattling at the force, moaning pathetically against your mouth as he comes in hot, warm pulses inside of you, cunt clenching around him tight, like a glove.

Joel soon slumps against your body, all energy drained from him, your hands weaving through his hair gently, caressing the soft spot behind his ear.

He doesn’t complain, letting you hold him until his cock softens, pulling out of you with a disgruntled noise before he’s resting on the cushion beside you, back pressed tight against one side to make room for the both of you, tilting himself sideways and letting his fingers drift over your naked frame, indulging in every part of you.

“Should we talk about this?” You ask curiously, voice softened under his gaze, his fist pressed to his cheek.

There it was.

Joel looks down briefly, his touch stalling over the spot between your breasts, right over your heart.

“I’m not even sure what this is,” Joel admits, the most honest he’s ever been with anyone, “just that—I enjoy it.”

He's being honest, he's letting you in. Your heart soars.

Joel was tired of fighting it. He'd be ignorant to think you didn't see it just then or even before.

“I would classify it as fucking,” You joke lightly, “but that—that didn’t feel like fucking to me.”

Joel shakes his head, “No—it didn’t.” He agrees, grabbing for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently over your frame despite the heat, finger fingers grazing along the underside of your breasts, a teasing touch that has you giggling in response, his own laugh following.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“Or we don’t have to figure it out at all,” You suggest, realizing that trying to force something out of Joel was not the way to go, it never had been—he’d come to whatever conclusion he felt on his own, “that’s okay, too.”

“We can save it for another day,” Joel promises, his fingers tracing up toward your jaw, his palm resting to cup your cheek, a tender gesture that’s all new, “right now, I just wanna quiet that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He sees your eyes light up with intrigue, already tilting toward him eagerly.

“You want that?” He teases, earning an eager nod in response before he’s closing his mouth over yours again, kissing with a leisureliness he didn’t have before, “Answer me, sweetheart?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Joel.”

And it terrified Joel, because he’d give you anything.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #my writing

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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in his healing hands | joel miller

Summary | You come back from patrol with a broken body - knees and feet aching with age and the physical toll of the world. Joel knows exactly how to help you, putting his hands (and mouth) to good use.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word count | 1.8K

Warnings | Foot massage (not in a fetish way), knee massage, soft!Joel, oral sex (f receiving), Jackson-era, no use of y/n, no explicit reference to age but reader does say the line 'I'm getting too old for this' so make of that what you will (I’m 28 and I say this, so make her whatever age you wish!), nothing else, just porn without much plot tbh.

Authors note | So, I did a 25km charity trek yesterday and when I tell you my body is wrecked? My body is wrecked. My knees are shot, my feet have never known pain like it, my lower back is screaming at me. So, naturally, Joel massaging my aches and pains and then eating my pussy was the natural thing for my brain to come up with. Slight shoutout to @mvtthewmurdvck for the massage oil idea here... I couldn't resist. Enjoy - this was written and edited on my phone in about 3 hours so be kind.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You’re too old for this. You’d been on your feet for what felt like a lifetime, though it hadn’t been more than twelve hours. Still, it was enough for the new boots Tommy had given you to cause blisters on the balls of your feet, and for your knees to feel like they had shattered under your skin. You had to speak to him, you think, as you hand your rifle back to the weapon store. Tommy needed to find a job for you that didn’t require you traipsing through the forest, up and down hills, otherwise your body was seriously going to give up on you.

One foot in front of the other, it’s slow moving to his house. To your house. That’s still something you’re getting used to, the fact that your belongings, though they are few and far between, are now entangled with his. Your boots sit next to his by the door, your clothes hang alongside his in the wardrobe, you have a bedside table on your side of the bed. It’s strangely domestic, but you wouldn’t be without him, without Joel. He is what keeps your feet moving, no matter how much you want to collapse onto the ground and cry from the pain.

The sun is setting, the slow pace back down your final hill and into the gun store mean you’re later than usual. When you push the door open, Joel is stood in the kitchen, his back to you, broad and straining against his t-shirt. You think you could watch him from behind forever. Immediately, you feel the stress you’d been holding in your shoulders dissipate from your body. The pain is still there though.

Joel turns around slowly, smiling at you gently, his hands are clutching two steaming mugs of coffee. You’re still scared to ask what exactly he traded for it, but you’re grateful for it none-the-less when it’s pressed into your hand, and he’s kissing your forehead, pushing a gentle hand on your back, driving you towards the couch. He sits down, his own age showing in the way his knees audibly creak as he sits.

You follow suit, a sharp gasp of pain leaving your lips as you sink into the couch cushions, legs sticking out straight because you can’t bare to bend them anymore. Joel is sitting up, concern across his face, because you never let on when you’re hurting, so for you to audibly wince when you try and get comfortable, he knows it must be bad.

“Where are ya hurtin’, baby?” He asks, setting his coffee cup down on the table.

“Backs of my knees,” You grumble, tipping your head back in pain as you try and shift into a comfortable position, “And my feet.”

Joel slowly moves off the couch, sinking to his knees in front of you. His deft hands are unlacing your boots, pulling them off your feet, peeling off your socks after them. He has his hand wrapped around one of your ankles, tilting your foot to look at it, “What did I tell ya about breakin’ these in?” He scolds, head tilting to the boots on the floor, “Told ya you’d get blisters.”

“The only place I ever go is on patrol Joel, I can only wear them in on patrol.” You shoot back, frustration in your voice.

“Alright baby.” He lets this one go, realising you don’t need chastising, just helping.

He takes your left foot in his hand and presses him thumb into the arch of your foot and you moan. You actually moan in relief as he works his thumb up to the ball of your foot, avoiding the blister that’s built there, pressing a thumb into the skin next to it.

“Jesus fuck, Miller,” You groan, starting to press your foot into the pressure of his thumb, “Do the other one.” You ask, gesturing your hand to your other foot.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He shifts his hand, repeating the same movements as before, thumbs digging into the arch of your foot, moving upwards slowly, until he presses slightly too hard into the ball of this foot, making you hiss instead of groan. He squeezes your ankle, knowing that he’s probably now causing more pain than anything else.

“How’s about I run you a bath?” He murmurs from his knees, “Then we can get you nice and comfy in bed.”

The warm water had gone some way to soothing you, but as you hobble from the bathroom down to your bedroom, the searing ache in your kneecaps is causing small tears to bloom at the edge of your vision. In the bedroom, Joel is already propped up against his pillows, glasses perched on the end of his nose with a book in his lap. It’s still warm, so he’s not put a sleep shirt on, he looks positively delicious and if your whole body wasn’t pain, you’d straddle his hips and show him just how much you needed him.

He looks up from his book when he hears your heavy footsteps coming towards the bed, “Hot water help?” He asks, chuckling slightly when you flop, unceremoniously, down onto the bed, face-first, groaning in relief at the weight finally being off your body.

“Will you…” You mumble into the sheets under your mouth, turning your head to him to he can hear you properly, “Will you do the backs of my knees?” You ask, “Just massage them a bit and see if it’ll help?”

He shuts his book and drags his glasses off his face, setting them both down on his bedside table, pushing the sheets back from his lap, moving himself up on his knees next to you. He reaches over and sinks his fingers under the edge of the towel you’ve got wrapped around you, pulling it out from under you to drop it to the floor, leaving your backside naked to him.

He runs his hands down your back, wide palms skimming over your warm skin, he stops to squeeze the globes of your ass as his hands continue their path down the backs of your thighs, all the way down to the crook of your knee. He leans over you, body pressed gently to yours as he fishes around in the bedside drawer for a moment, pulling out the small vial of oil he keeps there.

Tommy had given it to him months ago, during the winter, when Joel’s joints seized up with the cold – you’d been the one massaging his back and his shoulders then – with the rosemary scented oil that someone in town cooked up, meaning the hard-to-find pills stayed in the hospital for emergencies only.

You listen as he squeezes a tiny amount of oil into his palms, rubbing them together to warm and loosen the oil, before he’s got those palms wrapped around one of your knees, pads of his thumbs gently pressing into the aching muscle there.

“You tell me if I’m too hard, okay?” He speaks softly behind you, a pattern of dragging one thumb, and then the other, across the plane of skin there, swapping between each knee until you’re a mouldable mess of a human.

“Feels good,” You breathe out, head pillowed on your arm, “I ever tell you how good you are with your hands?”

Joel laughs now, “Feelin’ better, huh?” He speaks, oily hands leaving the backs of your knees to trail back up to your ass, giving you another squeeze to see if you’re going to tell him to fuck off or not.

He leans forward, lips pressing a soft kiss to the bottom of your back, “Think you told me once or twice,” He comments, answering your earlier question about his hands, “But, if I remember correctly, you think I’m better with my mouth.”

His lips press a kiss to one of the cheeks of your ass, then the other, before he’s gripping the meat of you in his hands, squeezing and spreading you open for him, he notices you tense a little, and that simply won’t do, “Relax, will ya?” He encourages, “Promise I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby.”

He knows that he can’t shift you up onto your knees, or bend them much as all, but God he has to taste you. He shifts himself a little, from straddling your legs, to shifting them open a little so he can rest between them. You’re still led on your front, head resting on your arms, tilted round gently to look at him as much as you can.

He settles in between your thighs, body spread out much like yours is, with his mouth just inches from your weeping core, that’s been gradually gathering slick since he started touching you downstairs on the couch. His hands are back gripping the meat of your ass, using them to spread you apart so he can finally see you already dripping for him.

“Can you lift up a little, baby?” He asks, watching with satisfaction as you move a little so he can finally get his mouth on you.

He dips his tongue into your aching cunt first, using his tongue to lap up the delicious slick he’s already drawn from you. It’s already obscene, the sounds of his slurping, the way he literally drinks from you, tasting every part of you. Then, from his place behind you, he moves his head so he’s lapping at your clit. Soft, gentle flicks with the tip of his tongue, swirling the mix of his saliva and your slick over the little bundle of nerves in such a way that you’re crying out for him already.

“Easy baby,” He grins into your cunt, “You that worked up, huh?” He pulls away slightly, “Do I need to make you come? Will that make everythin’ better?”

You push yourself back onto his mouth and he obliges, because he can never deny you, especially when you’re this delicate and pliable, all from his hands helping to stop you hurting. He’s giving you wider, longer swipes of his tongue across your clit now, alternating when he wants back to those tight circles with the tip of his tongue until you are literally a quivering mess, teetering on the edge, waiting for him to tip you over.

“Joel,” You whimper, hips chasing at his tongue as it sweeps across your swollen clit, “Make me come, please.”

He doesn’t even bother to reply, just latches his lips around your clit, sucking for pressure, but still driving his tongue over it, until you finally let go, body shaking and a chorus of his name and pleas for him not to stop echoing through the room. And he doesn’t, not until he’s sure that his tongue has worked every ounce of your orgasm from you. He pulls away from you, wiping the slick from his face onto the back of your thigh before he collapses down on the bed next to you.

He rolls you gently onto your side, pulling your body into his. His hand pulls at your knee gently, bringing one of your legs across his body to rest on him, hand staying warm and solid on your still painful knee, as his other arm snaked under your neck and around your shoulders to anchor you to him.

He is still in awe, as you fall asleep against him, with his hands wide against your clammy skin, that these were once the same hands that killed people, tortured some of them even, the same hands that cradled his dying daughter all those years ago, now used to ease someone else’s pain, to make someone else feel better. He uses those hands now, running gentle patterns across your skin as you fall asleep, hoping that when you wake up, it’s made all the difference, even though he knows if you’re still hurting, he would stay here forever, running those hands over your aches and pains to heal you.

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finnsbubblegum · 1 year

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I Don’t Deserve You {Part 2} (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, protective joel, age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s), stalking, sexual assault attempt (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight. But he felt insecure.

Words count: 2.9k

A/N: This is part 2 for I Don’t Deserve You Part 1. Thank you to everyone who read my fanfic!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

It was a usual Monday after the night Joel saved you from Josh. You woke up early and got ready to work and meet your students.

“Good morning, kids! How was your weekend?” You asked the students with a soft tone.

“I watched a movie with my dad last night!” A girl shouted.

“It was my birthday yesterday!” Another girl shouted.

They were active and you were always happy to listen to their stories. Their stories were always interesting to you. You loved how children were so pure and innocent.

“Oh really? Well, happy birthday to you! Why don’t we all sing happy birthday to Samantha?”

You invited the other students to sing the Happy Birthday song for Samantha. Each of the students followed your clap and sang the Happy Birthday song together. The day went and it was already time for the class to be dismissed.

“Okay everyone! Class is dismissed! Don’t forget to do your homework!”

Everyone was packing their bags hurriedly and you glanced at the door. The door had a rectangle transparent glass and you saw Joel. When he caught your eye, he quickly hid. You found him so cute and felt butterflies in your stomach. It felt like you were in your teenage years all over again. You shook your head and smiled. The kids were starting to leave one by one and you began to pack your stuff on the table.

“I saw you there Joel.” You teased Joel who was still hiding.

“Uhm.. Sorry.” He slowly walked inside the class and cleared his throat.

“You caught me.” He smiled shyly and put his hand on the nape of his neck.

“Are you stalking me now?” You joked.

“Absolutely not. I was just around and thought I’d stop by to see how you’re teaching the kids. Hope you didn’t teach them curse words.” He joked remembering his last joke at the bar that was cut off by Josh’s appearance.

“Of course not.” You scoffed and slightly hit his chest.

“Are you heading home now?” Joel put his hands on his waist.

“Yes, all the kids have gone home so I should go home now.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Joel gestured a movement from his hands as if he was asking you to follow him.

“Sure. Thank you.” You grabbed your purse and jacket.

Joel wasn’t actually around the area. He was not patrolling that day and couldn’t keep thinking about last night. He was worried that Josh might come to you and bother you again. After thinking about it for a few hours, he decided to visit you at school and walk you home. He thought that it was the least thing he could do to protect you. Without realizing it, he was starting to have feelings towards you.

“Do you want to come in and have dinner with me tonight? I can cook something for us.” You hoped Joel would say yes before you got in your house.

“Sure. Ellie is making friends now so she often stays out late.”

“Great. Come in.” You welcomed Joel.

You hung your jacket and Joel did the same.

“Please make yourself at home while I cook dinner.” You smiled at Joel.

Joel nodded and sat on the sofa in your living room. You walked to your kitchen, opened your fridge and took out some ingredients.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” Joel suddenly stood up and walked towards you.

“No, no. I’m good. Let me serve you dinner tonight.” Joel was your guest so you wanted to serve him.

“Okay.” Joel walked away and started to look around your house.

“You have a lot of books.” Joel stopped at your bookshelf.

“Oh, yes. I love to read. I’m a teacher.” You laughed.

“Right.” Joel chuckled.

After a few moments of banter while you were preparing dinner, you were finally done.

“Dinner’s ready.” You called for Joel.

He looked back from the sofa and hurried his way to the dining table.

“Smells good.” He sniffed.

You both started eating. You were nervous because you were scared Joel might not like your cooking. And your legs were shaking under the table.

“Hmm.. It’s delicious. Thank you.” Joel praised your food.

“Phew.. I was scared you didn’t like it.” You sighed.

“Are you kidding? This is the best meal I’ve ever had in the past 20 years.” He chuckled as he shoved another spoonful of your cooking.

“Thank you, Joel. You’re really sweet.” You were touched hearing his words.

The two of you had conversations as you finished your dinner.

“Let me wash the dishes. You cooked so I will wash the dishes.” Joel offered.

“Sure.” You gave your dishes to Joel.

You watched him from behind and got lost in your fantasy. You were imagining a life where you and Joel lived under the same roof as family. And you were the wife making dinner for your husband when he got off from work. He looked dashing from behind and his shoulder was broad. You imagined how it would feel kissing him. But you didn’t want to rush so you had to hold yourself. You hit your head and got back to reality.

“Done.” Joel wiped his hands with a towel.

“Thank you, Joel. For washing the dishes.”

“It’s nothin’. You cooked for me so it’s fair if I wash the dishes.” He shook his head.

You wondered how a man like him treated you so nice. You kept wondering why he didn’t come into your life sooner. Then you remembered why. You were half his age. But you didn’t care. As long as he made you happy, you didn’t care about anything.

You and Joel spent a few hours hanging out at your house then it was time for him to go home.

“I should probably head home.” Joel looked at you.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you for walking me home today.”

“Anytime. Thank you for the meal. It was delicious.” Joel thanked you.

You chuckled as you walked him to your door and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Joel raised his eyebrows.

“Sure. See you tomorrow.” You waved your hand goodbye to Joel.

The next day, Joel came and picked you up from work. He walked you home and had dinner with you for the second day, third day, fourth day, and it went on and on. Except when it was his turn to go on patrol, he couldn’t walk you home. But he would always tell you in advance if he couldn’t walk you home.

Joel and you often hung out in the city as well. Since you got close with Joel, Josh had never shown up. He just stared at you from afar but he had never approached you. You even had less guys flirting with you. As time went by, people were starting to recognize your relationship with him. People were making rumors and talking about you and Joel. They were talking about how far your age gap was and how Joel didn’t deserve you. He was old and ruthless but you were young and kind. You didn’t care what anyone said. Joel had never hurt you, he was always respectful, he was definitely not like what other people said. As a matter of fact, Joel had never been kind to anyone but you.

Your feelings towards Joel have grown deeper and deeper. On the other side, you had no idea how Joel felt towards you. Did he like you or did he just see you as a kid who needed protection? But you didn’t want this to end so you kept your feelings hidden until it was 2 months since you and Joel spent time together. You couldn’t hold your feelings hidden any longer.

It was another usual dinner with Joel. You watched him as he was walking outside your front porch.

“Joel.” You stopped him before he walked his way home.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows and looked back.

“Can I ask you something?” You wiped your sweaty hands to your jeans.

“Sure. What is it?” He walked his way back to your porch where you were standing, resting his hands on the handrail.

“What are we, Joel? I mean - I - I like you, Joel.” You confessed your feelings to Joel and stepped closer to him.

Instead of telling you the way he felt about you, he took a step back.

“No.” His voice was really low, he shook his head and looked down.

Your eyes were getting blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Joel quickly walked away from you.

“Joel.. Please..” You tried to stop him but you thought it was better to stay.

You were heartbroken. You went to your bedroom, covered your face with your pillow and cried all night.

On his way home, Joel was also heartbroken. He couldn’t see you cry like that, especially because of him. He regretted leaving you hanging like that. He wished he could hug you and comfort you. But he knew he shouldn’t. He had heard the rumors and he agreed to what people were saying. He regretted treating you nice if it would end up breaking your heart. He shouldn’t give you hope in the first place. Since then, Joel started avoiding you. He didn’t walk you home and didn’t have dinner with you. You and Joel ended just like that.

You hadn’t seen Joel since. Your days went so slow. Days felt weeks, weeks felt months, months felt years. It has been a month and you hated this feeling. You wanted closure so you decided to find Joel. You walked to his house and knocked on his door.

“Hi!” It was Ellie.

“Uhm.. Hi! Is Joel home?” You asked Ellie.

“Yeah! Joel! Someone’s here looking for you!” Ellie shouted and called Joel.

Joel made his way down stairs and his eyes widened when he saw you at his front door.

“We need to talk, please.” You begged Joel.

“Okay.” Joel gestured to Ellie to go, he closed the door and invited you to sit on the patio chairs at his front porch.

You sat with him but he didn’t say anything. So you started the conversation.

“Did I do something wrong, Joel?” You tried to find what was wrong to fix your relationship with him.

“No.” He replied coldly.

“It’s okay. Just tell me, Joel. Let me fix us.” You begged him.

“It’s not you. It’s me.” Joel wanted the best for you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. What do you mean?” You were confused.

“I know you heard about the rumors. They were right. I don’t deserve you. I’m old. I’ve done bad things. I’ve killed people. And you’re young, beautiful…inside out, kind, perfect and everythin’. You deserve someone way better than me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started anythin’ with you. I realized I was crossin’ the line, that's why it’s better that I stopped before I hurt you more.” Joel put his elbow on his knees as he explained to you.

“That’s not right. I don’t care what people say, Joel. You treated me so nice. You’ve never hurt me. You protect me, Joel.” You shook your head in denial.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t deserve you.” Joel started to raise his voice.

“No, Joel. Please. Give me a chance. I can’t live without you. Please. Give us a chance.” You cried as you begged him.

Joel wanted to cry but he held it. He didn’t want to look weak. Instead he stood up and asked you to leave.

“I promise I won’t see you again.” Joel’s words made your heart even wretched.

“Joel, please..don’t..Can you at least give me a hug as a goodbye? Please?” You grabbed his wrist.

Joel wanted to hug you. He really did. But it would just make him change his mind. If he hugged you, he might not be able to let you go. So he let go of your hand and walked inside his house. You cried so loud and kneeled in front of his door. Hoping for Joel to come out and change his mind, but a few hours went by and he didn’t appear. You were getting hopeless so you decided to go home. You cried on your walk and you didn’t realize someone was following you. You grabbed your keys and went inside your house. Someone was holding your door before you closed it.

“Joel?” You hoped Joel was following you home.

“Nuh-uh baby. It’s me. Josh.” Josh smirked.

You gasped and started to shake.

“Wh-what are you do-doing?” Josh could hear you were scared.

“I told you that old man is no good, baby. You should have been with me in the first place. I wouldn’t make you cry. I’m way better than him. That old man knows it. He really doesn’t deserve you. But I deserve you.” It turned out that Josh had been stalking you and he was eavesdropping your conversation with Joel.

“No. Josh. Please get out of my house.” You tried to act like you were not scared but he could see you were shaking.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. You’re mine now.” Josh claimed you as his because he knew Joel wouldn’t be there to protect you from him anymore.

“No, please go.” You walked backwards as he slowly walked towards you.

On the other side, Joel kept thinking about what he had said to you. He knew it was for the best but somehow he felt something weird in his heart. He guessed maybe he should have hugged you goodbye. He didn’t hear your cries anymore so he decided to walk to your house. He saw your door was left open and he heard a loud thud and your scream. Joel’s heart was beating faster as he rushed inside your house.

“Stay still!” Josh was on top of you, holding your hands, trying to take off your pants.

“Josh, stop it!” You tried to push Josh away but he was too heavy.

Joel’s eyes widened as he was shocked to see what was happening. He ran towards you, grabbed Josh from behind and threw him aside. Josh was hurting laying on the floor. Joel’s eyes locked on Josh and punched him over and over again. Josh’s face was full of blood and he was begging for Joel to stop.

“Don’t you ever touch her again! You lay a hand on her again, I’ll break your arm!” Joel lifted Josh by his collar and yelled at his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Josh begged Joel for his life.

“Now get the fuck out of this house and never show your face again!” Joel pointed his finger towards the door as he raised his voice again.

Joel closed the door after Josh crawled his way out of your house. You were in shock, crying, hyperventilating, shaking, and holding your ripped shirt to cover yourself. You had never seen Joel like this before. He was scary when he was angry just like what other people in the town talked about.

“Hey, are you okay?” Joel’s voice was different from seconds ago.

He sounded very soft. He took off his jacket and put it on you.

“I got you, babygirl. I got you.” He looked at you with worried eyes. (TLOU ep 8 reference 😘)

He wiped your tears with his thumb and hugged you. His hands rubbed your back in circles until your breathing was normal again.

“Can you stand?” He asked you.

You nodded and guided him to your bedroom. He kept holding your arm, holding your weight as you walked. You opened your closet to get new clothes and changed into a new one. Joel faced the wall as you changed your clothes. He was always respectful to you. Not like the other guys you had met.

“Here.” You gave Joel his jacket back.

“Do you want me to stay?” He thought he would stay for the night to make sure you were safe.

“Will you?” You asked Joel with your puppy eyes as you sat on the bed.

“Of course, darlin’. I don’t want Josh to come here again and hurt you.” Joel walked to your bedroom door.

“Where are you going? I thought you’re staying.” You were confused.

“I am. I’m sleepin’ on the couch.”

You chuckled. Everytime he did or said something, you fell in love with him more.

“Joel, stay here.” You pat the empty space beside you on your bed.

“No. I shouldn’t.” He still kept his chivalry.

“Joel, please. I don’t think I can sleep if you’re not next to me. I feel safe when I’m with you. Please.” You begged Joel.

“Okay.” Joel shyly moved his way to your bed and laid beside you.

You moved closer to him, put your head on his chest, and rested your hands on his stomach. You could hear his heart beating faster and his body was stiff because of your movements. Joel took a deep breath and put his arms around you. He rubbed your back in circles.

“I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve you. But can I get that chance for our relationship? Give me a chance to be better for you?” He rested his chin on your head.

“You should stop being insecure, Joel. You’re the best man I’ve ever met. All the guys who flirted with me.. They weren't like you. I know for a fact they only want to get in my pants. But you’re different. Am I right?” You caressed his chest.

“No. You’re wrong.” You were shocked by his joke and raised your head to face him.

“I’m joking. Relax.” He laughed.

“Don’t ever do that again.” You put your head back to his chest and hit his chest.

“Oh! You’re bleeding! We need to get your fist cleaned up!” You took his hands worriedly.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ve been worse.” Joel chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“Okay, then.” You kissed his bleeding fist that saved you from Josh.

The two of you spent the night cuddling, talking and getting to know each other. Joel told you about his past, Sarah, and Ellie as you drift into your sleep.

To be continued...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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bunnysbrainrot · 2 months

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Bourbon and Mead

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader, Jackson!AU

Content: Alcohol consumption, flirting, slow-burn tension, slow dancing with Joel, teasing, POV switch. Bear with me, folks, this'll be worth it.

Summary: It's been a busy first week in Jackson, but you're finally starting to feel at home. Even still, you haven't made many new connections, but hopefully tonight's big event can help. Despite your nerves, you go anyway, and see some familiar faces.

Word Count: 4,300+

It had been just under a week since your patrol with Joel and his group, and you're settling in rather well. For such a shabby spot, you have decorated your living space impressively, and it settles something in you. After so long, you're really starting to have a place to call home.

Knock, knock, knock.

The noise shakes you out of a stupor, and you make your way to the heavy wooden door, and tug it open to reveal a friendly face, Maria.

You've had little chance to interact with new people since arriving in Jackson - when you're working as a community this directly, a hell of a lot of work goes into it. Which means, everyone's busy. Just about constantly. That being said, outside of your own room, Maria has been your only companion.

She can sense your loneliness, too, but she hasn't let on. The last thing you needed was the pressure of making a name of yourself in the first few days, so she had kept you busy with chores, patrols, hunts, you name it. To her, that plan would help you adjust to how Jackson functioned as a whole, so you could have the foundation of being a community member, to get your bearings.

Her smile is bright as she speaks, "Hey, sweetheart, just wanted to let y'know about the dance happening tonight. If you're feeling up for it, you should stop by."

The offer erupts a warmth in your chest.

"The dance?" You ask eagerly.

Maria nods, "Used to call it a square dance, but not enough folks know how to, so it's more of a get-together now, but we'll have music, drinks, the whole nine."

It doesn't take long for you to choose your answer. You cheerfully tell Maria, "That sounds wonderful. Where is it, and when does it start?"

She starts to describe the layout of the nearby buildings to the dance, waving her hands in front of her methodically, "But trust me, you won't be able to miss it. Just follow the music." Maria ends her sentence with a wink.

"What do I wear?"

There's a beat as she looks you over, and past your shoulder to your chest of drawers, which she helped stock when you first arrived.

Maria waves a hand dismissively as she replies, "Some people take the chance to dress up, some people dress down. You do whatever you're comfortable with, honey."

You flash her a grateful smile, and she issues a small goodbye before walking off.

---

A good few hours buffers you before the dance. The optional dance, but something in you will stop at nothing to go. You need to see people, have some laughs, live a little.

You take your sweet time getting ready, too. Some downtime is well deserved and rare, but it gives you the perfect window of time - debating on your outfit takes the longest. You opt for a casual hairdo, one that won't get your neck all hot and sweaty once you start dancing. The watch on your left wrist reads 6:47 PM up at you.

Whooping voices can be heard outside your window as people saunter down the street, toward the festivities, you assume. You sneak a peek through the curtains, eyeing a gaggle of townsfolk laughing alongside one another. Their eyes are bright, voices uplifted and loud. The men clap each other on the shoulder aggressively, while the women jab each other in the sides with their elbows. There wasn't much to make out, but whatever they were joking about had them roaring with laughter.

Seeing the crowd inspires you to make way out the door. You ensure all your lights are off, save for your nightstand lamp to come back to an inviting space. A deep breath later, and you were out the door, too.

There's a new feeling in the air, and you can place it precisely. Upbeat music plays far down the small Jackson streets, but its effects are widespread. All around, the other residents beam brightly as they go about the evening. Most people nearest you exchange small 'hello's' and wave politely, others still smile your way. Tightness wells in your chest as you realize just how long it had been since you'd seen so many friendly faces.

The music's volume eventually blares as you near the open area for the dance. The weather proves to be fair enough to host the event outside, so rows of string lights hang between nearby poles and sides of buildings. In the back of the venue is a group of people wielding a variety of instruments, nodding and bouncing with the quick beat of what you knew as bluegrass music.

"Hey, look who's here!" A voice calls out. You glance around until you realize the call was for your attention. You turn to the voice and recognize the woman from last week's patrol, who'd given you the rundown of who your partners were.

You greet her in return before registering the rest of the group. A few of them could be familiar around town, but for the most part, new faces.

Except for one.

Joel's eyes aren't on yours when you find him in the group. He's looking to one of the men, seemingly in a deep conversation. Perhaps he could feel your eyes on him, because his eyes flicker to yours for a split second. He pauses, lets his conversation partner speak, while he gives you a polite nod, before turning back to the man.

The fluttering in your gut was a dead giveaway, this is why you wanted to come. The prospect of seeing Joel again was exciting, but usually slim. And here he was. If only he could just move on from his conversation...

A hand lands on your arm comfortingly. The kind woman tells you, "It's so good to see you again! How have you been settling in?"

There's a twinge of an accent in her words, Southern, but more subtle. Her words are as soft as a hug.

"It's been going alright, finally getting to decorating," you start. The woman listens. Wait... did she ever introduce herself? Shit. How were you supposed to see someone this much without knowing their name?

"That was the best part when I got here. Once I had my space set up, it really felt like home," she replies.

There's a beat of silence between you, and it breaks when you ask, "I'm sorry if this is awkward, but I never got your name the first time we met." You briefly introduce yourself before she replies.

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, "I'm Cara. I never introduced myself, but I wanted you to have at least be one friendly face here."

"I'm thankful for it, I really am. It feels better now that we have names to the faces," you offer with a nervous smile.

Cara looks at you mischievously, softly grabbing your bicep, "Let's get a drink. Whaddya say?"

That kind offer melts your anxiety away, and all that's left is you, Cara, and the joy of sharing a drink with a friend. In moments, you have a glass of homemade mead in your hand.

Someone else from the group calls Cara over, so for a moment you're left alone with your cup of fermented honey goodness. It's sweet, slightly bitter, but leaves your stomach feeling warm as it settles. The burn in your throat is numbed by the warmth in your belly. You make it back to Cara's group and decided to strike up conversation with those folks, thinking that it'd be a good place to start.

The first few conversations are long - a flurry of questions about your background, your journey out to Jackson, and how you've been adjusting to the move. You learn some basics about some of them, but there's a distraction lingering in the back of your mind.

Joel.

A few people in the group break away to leave for the dance floor, the jovial music beckoning them ever closer. You don't follow immediately, which leaves you with a few stragglers, and him.

For the first time in days, you hear his voice again, "What'd you get?"

The question snaps you to attention, looking down into your glass. You glance back up at him and motion with the cup with a swish, "Some mead, I think. Pretty good."

He nods, "Pete makes some damn good mead, 'specially if it's for a party. Pulls out the good stuff."

Part of you wonders if his lighthearted talking is to make up for the blunder on last week's patrol, to ease the embarrassment you still held from it.

"What's in your cup?" You retort.

"Usually it's bourbon, but tonight, it's beer," he replies with a gaze into his own cup. He copies your motion and swirls the cup a few times. A bit of the foamy liquid sloshes out and onto the dirt in front of your, nicer, combat boots. Some of the beer spatters onto your feet and into the dirt.

"Damn, maybe they should cut me off," Joel jokes, reaching into his back pocket and revealing a handkerchief, holding it out to you. "Sorry 'bout that."

You take the cloth, "Making a mess of the place already, and it's not even eight o'clock yet, impressive."

The joke seems to land with Joel; you can tell by the way the corners of his eyes tighten.

Joel

What you say makes him chuckle. It's rare to find someone with a sense of humor these days. That kind of fresh attitude can bring a lot of life in a world like this, especially around here, especially after the loss these people have felt.

New folks were few and far between, given how desolate Jackson had become since the world fell to shit, but there was a wind of change when you arrived last week. Joel could tell from the second he saw you on patrol, even trotting ahead of the group at one point. The light in your eyes when you awed at the mountains tugged at his heartstrings. A type of longing for that kind of simple joy. To be young, without most of his hardships, seeing new parts of the world, even though it had shrunk.

On the patrol, you had gotten too far ahead, in line with Joel in the lead, and you knew it wasn't your place, but you hadn't shied away from him. In fact, you had embraced it, and listened keenly when Joel advised you keep your distance. Normally it'd feel like taming an unruly child, but you had a certain curiosity in your eyes, you were eager to learn.

Joel knows how harsh he can be, let alone to new faces. The worry of how that attitude rubs off on people subsided decades ago - one could say that Joel has truly embraced that 'grouchy old man' stereotype. That attitude has saved his ass more times than he could count, and has kept him safe after all these years. But, there's an unavoidable weight when it comes to hardening yourself up as much as Joel has. It's a truth that he's been evading for years. You make yourself untouchable, but you forget how much you need someone else.

Even so, it's easier that way. You keep losses to a minimum as long as you're not attached. Living that way had gotten him this far.

But now you stand in front of him, with beer-splattered boots and a kind smile despite your new shoes being soiled. You take his handkerchief and bend down to clean your shoes, and hand the cloth back to Joel. His fingers brush against yours when he takes it back - yours are delicately soft against his calloused ones, and it takes him by surprise.

In that split second, Joel's eyes search your face for any change, to see if you freeze like he does, to see if your breath hitches like his did, for any sign that this isn't just some fluke.

It could be a trick of the light, but Joel swears there's a new redness in your cheeks. When you look at him next, it's with bright, innocent eyes, a type of innocence Joel would surely ruin.

"Thank you, Joel," you say softly. His name on your lips is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, it's almost sickening.

Joel clears his throat and gives you a nod, "It's the least I can do."

The sun is dipping behind the mountains, streaking the sky with glorious pink hues against the emerging stars of dusk. A fiddle lilts happily as the song picks up pace, the tune itself serving as an invitation to get yourself moving. In the distance, Cara flashes you a wide smile, and waves a beckoning hand over to her gaggle of folks. You can barely make out her words as she mouths them.

"Let's dance!"

Joel notices your distraction, looking back at Cara trying to whisk you onto the dance floor. There's a good number of people breaking into a flurry of moves, all whooping and laughing as they pass one another. Joel looks back to you, the softness that was there before is seeming to dissipate. His face is hardened again, resigned.

"Guess I'm being stolen away," you say.

"Be careful," Joel replies, "Carried Away Cara doesn't let up. You'll be dancing for hours."

You comment, "Didn't know I signed up for that kind of night."

You've reached the group by now, and Cara is already handing you another glass of mead, and a huge smile to go along with it.

----

You're onto drink number four, you think, and the sky has shifted from a pale pink to a deep indigo, littered with bright stars and a beautiful crescent moon. It seems like the music has blurred together without beginning or end, and your boozy haze doesn't reveal any tiredness, so you keep dancing. Joel was right, Cara's had you dancing for what feels like hours at this point. But damn, did she know how to party.

The song the group's playing begins to slow down, and part of the crowd disperses away. Chattering can be overheard amidst the quieting music. You place a mostly-empty glass onto a nearby picnic table and look around the venue. Folks pass you by with a pep in their step, their faces flushed red from alcohol and relentless dancing.

A breath of fresh air wafts through the venue, rustling through your hair that had tacked with sweat to the nape of your neck. You smile from the sensation, relishing in the cool air across your hot skin. Shit, what time is it?

Your watch beams 10:13 PM back up at you.

Damn, where did all that time go?

The night has given you a rush of adrenaline you haven't found in what feels like months. Something about this dance is erupting a sense of joy you were sure you'd never feel again. Laughter, dancing, good people. Such simple things really do lift the spirits.

You can feel a pointed stare at you off to the side, but do you dare look? Of course you do - it's not like the mead is letting you act composed. Being as subtle as you can muster in your state, you glance to the side, where that looming sense had come from. Far off, leaning against a tall wooden fence, is Joel.

While he had practically ignored you when you'd first seen him tonight, he can't take his eyes off of you in this moment. Your heart skips a beat when he holds the stare, his deep brown eyes never leave yours, even as other partygoers pass between you. It's as if the world had paused, but perhaps just for you, frozen under Joel's gaze, the sole subject of his attention.

He stands alone on the side. No one to interrupt you if you go over...

Before you decide, you wave and smile. A silly drunken grin you'd normally hide. Right now, with his focus only on you, is the most alive you've felt in months. The high of it creeps up from behind, whispering encouragement in the form of a dare. Go up to him.

Your legs make the journey before you register what's happening; your body suddenly has a mind of its own, no way to back down now.

The narrowing distance from Joel pushes your heart to your throat. While your legs carry you smoothly, your senses are turned upside down. The anxiety you have about Joel is nothing but a distant memory. Tonight, you'd overcome your nervousness.

"Not much of a dancer, hm?" You call to him over the music.

A small smile spreads across his lips, "With these knees, I'm lucky to do a damn foxtrot. Someone out there was having the time of their life, though."

He truly has a gift. The moment he speaks, everything else seems to disappear. God, you'd ask him question after question just to hear that voice - deep and gravelly, but the accent is thick and sweet like molasses. A slip of your imagination has you wandering into uncharted territory. Imagine a "baby" or "honey" or "sweetheart" in that voice... Your mind vacates long enough for Joel to arch an eyebrow at you, and you're immediately brought back down to earth.

"I don't know how I went dancing for that long," you exhale.

Joel shakes his head with a chuckle, "You'll get some damn good sleep, that's for sure."

It'd be better if you were sleeping with me.

The unfiltered thought jolts through you, snapping you back to attention. Maybe the mead was making you a little too confident.

Behind you both, the music group's slow beat has pulled folks into a smooth rhythm. The dance floor littered with small groups and couples as the song continued. This new intimate energy could not have been timed any worse. You took a big breath and let it out slowly.

"It's getting late, I should probably head home."

Joel pauses, looking toward the band, then down into a cup of amber-brown liquid. Maybe he resorted back to his usual bourbon.

You follow suit and watch the band play on. A tug in your chest begs you not to go, not yet.

"Think you got time for one last go?" His question snaps your head to him. There's a new spark in his eyes, a softer glint amidst the chocolate brown.

Your answer is immediate, breathless, "Of course."

Anything. Anything for him.

As long as it reveals a glimpse of the man underneath the tough shell. It's still in him.

Joel extends his hand, palm up, to take yours. You lay yours on top plainly, holding a breath at the sensation of your skin against his. It's not like before with the handkerchief. This time, it's intentional, he wants to touch you.

The way his fingers curl to hold your hand settled that debate. His touch is careful. It didn't take a genius to know how rough he could be, with those toned muscles shifting under his plaid shirt; in contrast, he held you with such delicacy, as if you'd break if he gripped too hard.

"You know how to dance at all?" Joel asks.

You bark a laugh, "With this many drinks in me? Highly doubt it."

Joel's laugh is louder this time around. You can actually make it out, and you can feel that it's genuine. "I warned you about Cara. Now I get a drunk dance partner."

"Hey, you asked me to dance. You don't get to give me shit for havin' a good time," your words slur together, proving Joel's point.

Amidst the crowd, Joel manages to find you two a nice spot with plenty of room. The surrounding couples look how you feel - entranced with their partners, focused and attentive, like the other person is the only one left in the world.

"How 'bout this? You lead me."

You freeze, "But, I-I don't know what to d-"

"Do what you want. I'll follow."

"And if I make a fool of myself?" You question.

His other hand migrates to your waist, holding you gently at your side, "The you better really sell it."

Your laugh is giddy. He lets you have room for mistakes. There's room to be human around him.

A deep exhale later, you place your hands on Joel's shoulders and begin to sway, a slow and steady pace with the beat of the song. Seems the mead has done its work of clouding your judgement - you're locked in the swaying motion.

"Is this okay?" You ask softly, finding Joel's eyes. There's a warmth in them you hadn't seen before.

He nods gently, "You lead the way, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."

Who'd have known that a single word could melt you completely. Your mind instantly hooks on it, cycles it in your mind as if to brand it into your memory.

Sweetheart.

Your smile is instant, but feels like one of those sloppy, stupid drunk grins that reveal how not-yourself you are at the words.

And so, you sway. As promised, Joel follows right along.

He shifts closer, readjusting the hold on your waist, spanning his fingers along the small of your back. A polite caress, not meandering and wandering around like most drunk men you'd encountered. Joel can keep his hands to himself. Joel has manners. Joel has self-control.

There's a lead to follow with his movements, you discover. It does feel more natural to wrap your arms around his neck like this...

In a swift moment you've melted into him, and with it, your nerves.

You also find that it's far more comfortable to rest your head on his chest. A beat later, your senses return, and you raise yourself back into standing position, realizing the crossed boundary.

"Gettin' tired already?" Joel asks bemusedly.

Maybe he didn't catch it. Thank goodness.

"You're basically rocking me to sleep here," you quip back.

Joel reminds you, "You're the one leading us."

You roll your eyes as you shake your head, bringing a laugh from him again. The sound of it lights you up from inside, flipping your stomach. You'd already learned that that sound was rare.

"Some dance partner I am," you say sarcastically. Joel's smile broadens, and the hand on your back shifts. His thumb idly sweeps across your spine.

Somehow, your arms are back around his neck, and your head is against his chest, all without protest. Joel's thumb still caresses your back as a sign. The song in the background changes to something simpler, with fewer instruments, giving highlight to a slow solo from the fiddle player.

"You're right, I think I'm gonna sleep like a log tonight," you murmur.

Joel's chuckle vibrates against your cheek. The huff of his laugh gives you a whiff of bourbon, sickly sweet and smoky, blending in with his deeper woodsy scent.

"You gotta be more careful next time," his voice slows. "We'll get some water in ya, help fight that hangover tomorrow."

You nod against him, smiling broadly, knowing that you're in good hands. Your words come out sheepishly, "I'm sorry I got so drunk. I... didn't think you'd see me like this."

A gentle squeeze on your side.

Joel's breath skirts across your neck when he mutters, "You think I'm gonna blame you for havin' a good time?"

His lips graze the shell of your ear as he speaks, and his words have a secrecy to them, an intimacy you hadn't seen from him before. You pay attention to the feel of his lips on your skin - they're soft and gentle, but know where to drag along in all the right places.

It's enough to leave your knees wobbling in your drunken stupor, high purely off of his touch, head spinning as you search for a new sensation.

"It has been pretty fun," you reply between trembling breaths.

There's a subtle brush of lips against your neck when he speaks, "I'd say I'm havin' a pretty good time."

Your knees practically buckle beneath you.

The rush of it all has you pulled back from him now, staring at him with surprised eyes. It's not that you didn't enjoy or accept that move, just that quickly, in front of so many people...

Joel's look shifts to something of embarrassment, "Maybe I've had a lil' too much."

You let out a nervous laugh, "I think I'm right there with you, I... I'm sorry."

He doesn't ask what the apology is for. He knows exactly which line was crossed. The hardened look returning to his eyes tells you that this moment of bliss is coming to an end.

"You don't got anything to be sorry for," the thick Texas accent is palpable in his reassurance. "I'm bein' a fool."

A fool. For doing this.

Hopefully he can't see the way that word breaks you. You force a bigger smile, a dismissive one that says 'we can just forget this ever happened', with a wave of a hand.

You offer, "Like you said, just having a good time."

His smile is wry. There's something unreadable in his expression.

Nonetheless, his grip of your waist loosens, releasing you as the fiddle in the background song comes to a silent end. Something akin to tension hangs in the air between you, pulled taught like a string to be severed.

"Well, I won't keep ya any longer. I... appreciate the dance. I know you're probably itchin' to get back in bed, so..." Joel says, trailing off, pressing his lips into a thin line.

You nod, collecting yourself, "Y-Yeah, probably good to get some sleep soon. You, too."

Joel smiles again, but his heart isn't in it like before.

He gives you a quick pat on the shoulder, eyes averted, "Get home safe, alright?"

Before you can wish him the same, he's lost amidst the crowd.

Hello, my sweethearts! So glad to be developing this story more, and I hope you've been enjoying so far! If you'd like, vote in the poll below for how'd you like to see this story develop (if you catch my drift)

As always, thank you so much for your support. And if you're new, it's nice to meet you! Love you all!

-Bunny

{all banners/dividers are from cafekistune on Tumblr}

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #fanfiction #tlou2 #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal

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lixie-phoria · 6 months

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[7.0 oops] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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an : i wrote this scene 4 times and im still not happy w how it's turned out so please bare w me :')

everything is a blur. the flashing lights are blinding. your head pounds as the walls vibrate with the bass. redness pools in your eyes as your surroundings blink at you.

you can't remember a time when you've been this drunk. you don't think you've ever been this drunk before. but you've never needed it this much either.

yeonjun is across the room from you. even in your inebriated state you can recognize the lush black of his hair, the lean of his figure and his laughter that cuts through the noise of everything else around you.

and your blood boils. he looks so fucking happy you have half a mind to stride across the room and plant your fist on his infuriatingly gorgeous face.

but jeongin has a firm grip around your waist, holding you in place.

"patience, yn, please."

his breath is warm against your skin as he leans down to whisper into your ear, and you shiver as his fingers accidentally brush against your skin that peeks out from the hem of your top. his long fingers.

"we spoke about this. you have a plan and we're going to follow that." he reminds you, gently tugging you away from the entrance of the living room and deeper into the crowd. it's almost like you're in a club, the music vibrating through the air and lights flashing. jackson wang sure did know how to throw a party.

you hum, stopping close to where yeonjun was but far away enough that it doesn't seem too obvious.

"are you ready?"

technically, jeongin should be asking you that because if anything, this would end badly for you. not him. but he nods nonetheless, gently turning you away from him and pulling you flush into his figure, back facing him.

you've been to a fair share of parties. yeonjun always loved them. and slowly, you grew to love them too. you could get lost in the frequency of the bass and those few hours where anybody could be anyone. no judgement. and that's exactly what you do now.

you try to ignore the fact that you're grinding on another boy while yeonjun is in the same room as you. you lean into jeongin, relishing in the way his face dips into the crook of your neck and his fingers grip tighter at your waist.

his body heat lights your skin on fire, and you arch your neck slightly, your hair grazing his shoulder. you're so glad you had all those drinks because if you had been sober you would have fled out right about now.

"tell me if you're uncomfortable." he whispers, his breath tickling your skin and chest vibrating against your back. combined with the muddled haze of your mind, it's so overwhelming. you love it.

"Okay," you agree, turning around, hands immediately wrapping around his neck and sliding down to his shoulders.

oh wow. he was broad. you can feel hard muscles rippling under the thin fabric as he leans back slightly to look at you better.

his skin is smooth, and you can just see the small dip of his dimple. for the first time you notice the specks of light brown in his eyes and the way his tongue darts out to wet the plush pink of his lips.

he's so pretty it hurts. what you wouldn't do to have eye lashes like those.

now that you're facing him, the scent of his perfume has gotten a lot stronger, and it doesn't help your dizziness. it's a mix of vanilla and pepper, and you have to stop yourself from leaning into him.

it feels good. you've been cooped up in your room for way too long, sobbing into your pillow most of the time. sorrow has permanently resided itself in your heart, but right now, you can almost forget about it. you feel alright.

you see jeongin's mouth twitch, opening to say something to you, and you watch in a trance as it immediately shuts too.

"what's wrong?"

he doesn't get the chance to reply. one minute you're in jeongin's arms and the next minute someone is tearing you away from him, yanking you back by the shoulder.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

that voice. that goddamn voice jars you into reality as you stumble behind the familiar figure that is now pulling your date to the party closer by the collar.

fuck. yeonjun had found you. and he was livid.

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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we need you

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Afraid of failing the two of the people he cares about more than anything, Joel decides you and Ellie are better off without him.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SET IN JACKSON. takes place during Kin. arguing, angst. helpful to know reader was not present when Joel and Tommy talked in the garage. NO mentions of age, reader has no physical description.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: welllllp i don't know about you guys, but i am DEAD inside after tonight so to cope i am going to write a little drabble. already put it in the warning/tags section, but once again, just to be on the safe side of things: potential spoilers, proceed with caution if you do not want the newest episode spoiled!

“Just what in the motherfucking hell was that, Joel?” You nearly growled, bursting through the door of the bedroom that he’d chosen to occupy for the night. Having heard the way he’d spoken to Ellie—not to mention, all that he had said to her even after her heartbreaking confession to him, her unspoken cry for him not to abandon her, all you could see in your mind was the color red. Sure, you and Joel had been through your fair share of bullshit over the years, disagreements that caused friction between the two of you weren’t all that uncommon seeing as the two of you shared similar personality traits to each other, stubbornness being one of them. But you could not, for the life of you, remember an occasion where you’d been this angry with him, this fucking livid. As you watched him sink down onto the bed without a word, your hands curled into fists at your sides. You knew it would only make matters worse, losing your temper, but you weren’t all too sure that you could contain it this time around.

The blood in your veins was bubbling, boiling hot underneath your skin.

“Are you going to fucking answer me or what?” You prompted, a cool edge to your tone despite the heat radiating throughout your body. “You’re really trying to hand her off to Tommy?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Find what out, Joel? That you went off and made a decision, and a really fucking dumb one at that, without even talking to me about it first?” You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Despite how incredibly furious you were, the sadness was heavy inside of your chest. Tt was as if Joel had forgotten the fact that for the last few months, Ellie had been under your care too, and you had every right to be a part of any decision that he made regarding her and her well-being. It hurt you to your very core that he’d done this without talking to you first, and it hurt you even deeper to know that Ellie had known about this and she’d kept it all to herself all evening.

She’d come home from the movies and when you offered her dinner, she refused to eat and stomped upstairs, locking herself in the bedroom. You’d chalked it up to nothing more than a typical teenaged girl simply having a mood swing. After all, it hadn’t exactly been the best day for Ellie. She’d arrived in Jackson and the first thing she noticed was how everyone in the colony looked at her, especially the children. She was different. She didn’t fit in, she stuck out like a sore thumb and you knew that had to have been hard for her. Not wanting to push her, you’d figured that she would come out of the room eventually and talk you about it when she was good and ready. But now that you knew the real reason why she had come home so upset, you couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

For hours, Ellie had been upstairs in that room knowing that Joel planned on dumping her on Tommy and you didn’t have the slightest fucking clue about what was going on until you’d overheard Joel and Ellie’s shouting match just moments ago.

“Joel.” You said his name in a tone neither of you recognized.

Low, venomous, borderline dangerous.

You were like a ticking bomb, seconds away from going off.

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “She’s better off with Tommy, alright? And we both fuckin’ know that,” he said. “It’s the best thing to do for her. I’m doin’ it because I know damn good and well that if she stays with me, all I’m gonna do is have her fall into the wrong fuckin’ hands or killed.”

“You’re wrong!” You countered, dropping your arms away from your chest and back down to your sides. “Joel, don’t you dare fucking do this. Ellie doesn’t want Tommy, she wants you. She all but fucking said it right to your face just a minute ago!” You cried, pointing a finger towards the door of the room as if pointing to Ellie herself. “She admitted to you that she wouldn’t feel safe with anyone else, Joel. So don’t you fucking do this to her.”

He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles going ghost white. “She’ll be better off with Tommy,” he repeated himself. He paused for a brief moment, just long enough to avert his tortured gaze from yours as he said, “And so would you.”

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “Fucking excuse me?”

“I can’t keep her safe. Hell, I can barely keep you safe! How many fuckin’ times have I almost lost you? ‘Cause I don’t move fast enough? ‘Cause I’ve made the wrong decisions? ‘Cause I’ve asked you to do somethin’ for me and turns out that I unknowingly sent you into the fuckin’ lion’s den?” He inhaled a sharp breath, and you could hear his voice breaking with each and every word that fell from his lips. “I’ve almost cost you your life how many fuckin’ times now?”

“Joel—”

“Tess died ‘cause of me.” He saw you open your mouth to protest and he quickly added, “You can sit there and tell me over and over that it wasn’t my fault ‘til you’re blue in the face, but let’s just fuckin’ be honest and tell it how it is, alright? I couldn’t get to her quick enough and now she’s dead. I won’t let you meet the same fate.” Joel reached up, raking a hand tiredly through his hair, mentally bracing himself for your reaction to what he was about to say next. “I think you should go with Tommy and get Ellie to where she needs to be. After that, you should—you should think about stayin’ here with him in Jackson. I probably don’t belong here, but you do.”

You let out a small, shaky breath of air.

“Who the hell are you to make that kind of decision for me?” You asked, willing yourself to keep yourself from crumbling into tears. “I’m sorry Joel, but you can’t make that kind of a choice for me. And do you want to know what else?” You didn’t even wait for him to respond. “You can’t make it for Ellie, either.”

“She’s fuckin’ fourteen years old—”

You took a step forward as you challenged him. “Do you really think that girl isn’t smart enough to know deep down inside what’s best for her? Tell me, do you really think that Ellie pulled everything she said out of her ass? Do you honestly think that she could ever trust Tommy the way that she trusts you?” You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek and quickly wiped it away before he could see it. “Ellie is young, but she’s not a baby, Joel. I get that sometimes we need to guide her through shit, but let’s be real. She is old enough to make decisions for herself. Maybe not all of them, but the decision that you’re trying to make for her right here, right now—it isn’t yours to make.” Another tear made its way down the side of your face as you whispered, “And the one you’re trying to make for me isn’t either.”

Joel hung his head, seemingly defeated. “Why can’t you see it’s for the best? Why are you makin’ this so hard?”

Willing your trembling legs to move, you slowly walked over to him and sank to your knees in front of him; although you tried to meet his eyes, he refused. “You care about Ellie. I know it, I can see it and I can feel it. For as much shit as you give her all the time, I know that she’s become so important to you.”

“‘Course she is,” he mumbled. “You’re both important to me.”

You reached for his hands, pulling them forward onto his lap. You placed your own hands on top of his, lacing your fingers together. “Then don’t fucking do this to us, Joel. Please. I’m already down on my knees and I will fucking beg and plead if that’s what it’s going to take.” You crouched down a little further, enough so that you could look up into his dark brown eyes. “Ellie wants to be with you, Joel. And I do too.”

Joel’s gaze glistened with tears that he tried, but failed, to keep from falling in front of you. “I’ll fail you, just like I’ve fuckin’ failed everybody else.”

“Joel, please listen to me. Hear what I am saying, for the love of Christ. We have come so far,” You said, firmly squeezing his hands in yours as if somehow that would snap him out of it. “Whether you choose to believe or not, we’ve only come this far because of you. You have done so much for us. It’s why we trust you, why we feel safe with you. Me and Ellie, we belong with you, Joel—not with Tommy, not with anyone else. We need you, okay? We fucking need you. Do you understand me, Joel?”

Joel exhaled the breath he’d been holding shakily, leaning down to be closer to you. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against yours as he tried to even out his breathing.

Rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs in soothing circles, you lifted your head and lightly pressed your lips against his forehead.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” You murmured quietly against his skin, feeling a slight shudder rack his body as a single whimper escaped him. You squeezed his hands again. “Together, Joel.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal

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amyispxnk · 4 months

Text

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 1: Special.

Series Masterlist

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - You and Joel finally sit down together after a year of stolen glances.

A/N: OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE WRITTEN A FIC I MISSED IT SM. Let’s all collectively pray that I actually finish this series, btw. It kind of just came to me earlier today and I barely have anything planned but.. you know me by now.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol, light language, (kind of) fluff, nothing much really in this chapter

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Come on man. We’ve been here for almost two years and you still haven’t made any friends. I see how you look at her- just say something! It is actual torture having to watch you dance around people like this.” Ellie groans dramatically, trying to kick some sense into the man who sits across from her. Joel just grunts, continuing to eat his stew as she looks blankly at him. “She’s nice enough.” She adds after a moment, trying to get him to say something.

After more silence, she speaks again with an exaggerated sigh, “I guess I’ll just go talk to her then, tell her that my old man has a big, fat crush on her. Maybe then you two can-” her smirk falters when Joel interrupts her.

“Don’t you dare go doin’ that,” he grumbles “Y’ gon’ make me look stupid-”

“So you talk to her then! Stop moping around all the time.” Ellie concludes, before standing up and saying goodbye, going to clear her tray and giving him a look before leaving the mess hall.

Joel watches her go before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. First, Tommy was on his ass about making some friends - “You’re scarin’ people, y’know. Givin’ everyone death stares when you walk around, being so.. withdrawn all the time. It’d do ya some good,” he’d told Joel one evening at the Tipsy Bison - and now Ellie was too. And, knowing Ellie, that kid wouldn’t be as patient, probably already concocting some sort of plan to force you and Joel together.

As he leans his head back and mulls over his options, he looks out the window. Of course you’re out there, playing with the kids of Jackson. You’re one of the most popular people in Jackson, always being friendly and knowing just about everyone.

..Except him, of course. You’ve had some small chats with him, but you never really see him. He sees you though, having been.. observing you for the past year, keeping his distance - being respectful, in his eyes, being a wuss, in Ellie’s - and he knows enough about you to know that he probably has no chance with you.

You’re funny, sweet, fucking stunning, and he’s seen multiple guys try to approach you at the bar. Younger, more attractive guys. Mainly, you help teach kids things like art and music at the Jackson school, and you also do patrols a few times a week. On some nights you also sing at the Tipsy Bison when there are events and dances. The band will play, often with you as the lead singer. He always makes sure he’s there when you are.

The first time he saw you was on one of his very first nights in the Tipsy Bison. Tommy had dragged him along, Ellie going too, with promise of a fun night.

He came mainly to keep an eye on Ellie and to get some alcohol in his system, not expecting anything ‘fun’ to happen. Boy, was he wrong.

It had been around half an hour of him nursing his whiskey in the corner of the room when you came onto stage, million-dollar smile on your face as you spoke into the microphone.

“Good evening, Jackson!” You began, already getting a loud cheer from the crowd of people there that night. “It’s great to be singin’ for you again, you know I missed ya! Now, tonight, we got a few songs lined up, but this first one is a special request from Mister Tommy Miller over there!” You had said, pointing over to Tommy who was sitting with Joel, the younger brother grinning widely at you.

The band started and you began to sing one of Joel’s favourite songs from before the outbreak - somehow, it sounded even better in your voice. Joel glared at Tommy when he realised what he had done, and Tommy just shrugged before looking back at you. He couldn’t stay mad at him though, because by the end of it he was entranced by the sweet melody of your voice and how gorgeous you looked singing your heart out under the lights.

You were beaming at the audience after finishing as they showered you with applause, though it took Joel a second to actually start clapping and stop staring at you.

He tried denying it, but, as cheesy as it sounds, it was love at first sight for him.

It scared him, definitely. It had barely been a year since he lost Tess, and although he wouldn’t go as far as saying they were in love, it was the closest thing he’d had to it in decades. To think he even liked you from just hearing you sing one song.. that fucking terrified him.

Which is why he kept his distance for so long. He didn’t know what to do with himself when he realised he actually liked you. He hadn’t had any sort of connection other than Ellie and Tommy in so long, and they were his family. You, though.. you were so different.

He sighed deeply before opening his eyes again, finishing his meal as he watched you smile and laugh in the snow through the window.

A week later, Tommy manages to convince Joel to come to the Tipsy Bison again, promising ‘no funny business’ to go on. Joel isn’t sure he’d really mind.

Time goes by quietly, a simple Monday afternoon not having much going on for them, but then you turn up. He sees you as soon as you walk through the doors, an unfamiliar tiredness in your eyes. It looks like you’ve been on a long patrol.

You look around before noticing Tommy and Joel, walking over with a small smile.

Joel stares daggers at Tommy. “You said no funny business,” he grits, a strange panic flooding his system. Did he brush his hair this morning? Do his clothes look tidy? Did he have anything in his teeth?

“Ain’t no funny business here, brother.” Tommy grins at him, not giving him a chance to reply as you get to their table.

“Hi Tommy!” You smile, hugging him before turning to Joel. “And Joel! It’s so great to see you!”

Joel blinks at you. Fuck, you’re talking to him. He needs to say something back.

“Yeah, you too.” He mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly.

If you pick up on his discomfort, you don’t mention it, looking around before continuing.

“Are y’all stayin’?” You ask, now leaning forward a little with your palms on the table.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Tommy replies, to which you nod. “Y’ wouldn’t mind if I sit with ya, then?” You ask.

“Not at all, darlin’.” He says, and you slide into the booth with them, starting up a conversation about what you did today, mentioning that draining patrol you just got back from.

“I’m tellin’ ya - morning patrols are like hell on earth, Tommy. ‘S not fair to be makin’ us go out at 6 am.” You groan, to which he smiles. “Nothin’ a little coffee can’t fix.” Tommy replies, which makes you perk up.

“You have coffee? Since when?” You gasp, wide-eyed at him.

“New trade opened, and since Joel here is such an addict, we got our hands on some.” He gestures to Joel, and you look over at him, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I see.. being Tommy’s brother has its perks then? Got you hoarding all the coffee for yourself?” You tease, to which Joel chuckles quietly at, sitting up a little taller.

“Not hoardin’. Nobody else has asked for any.” He tells you, looking into your eyes and trying not to get lost in them for too long.

“And if I wanted some?” You say, tilting your head sideways slightly as it rests on your palm.

“Y’ always welcome to come get some, sweetheart.” He isn’t sure what possessed him to use the pet name with you, but he’s very thankful for it as a soft crimson paints your cheeks and you bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. “Well, thank you.” You reply, before a man comes over to get you your drink. “Whiskey, neat please.” You tell him and he goes off to get it. Joel is pleasantly surprised by your choice. He never really thought about what you might order from the bar, but the fact that you shared the same drink of choice made you even more attractive in his eyes.

2 hours later, Tommy had gone off to handle an issue with the council and you and Joel had been talking and drinking and laughing. It’s around 3 now and he barely realises in time for his afternoon patrol, finishing off his whiskey before telling you, noticing the slight sadness that appears on your face at him having to go.

“Oh! Alright then. I’ll see you around. Have a good patrol, Joel.” You smile at him, and he offers you a small smile back.

“See ya ‘round.” He says before leaving and going back to the stables.

Later that evening, Ellie somehow figures out what went down earlier at the bar (Joel’s already planning on giving Tommy a talking to tomorrow) and makes fun of him endlessly for it, saying that he was apparently so shy when he was talking with you.

“I’d have never thought that someone could make the big, bad Joel all nervous and flustered, but she just continues to prove me wrong. She’s definitely special, huh.” Ellie grins, before bidding Joel goodnight and leaving him with his thoughts.

He hated to admit it, but Ellie was right in saying that. You were special.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

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luvvsessed · 18 days

Text

Communications Error [M] Part One

-> There’s nothing worse than accidentally texting the guy you can’t fucking stand about how you wanted to sit on his face.

Part One: Connected.mp3

Bang Chan x F!Reader [1st. POV]

3,554 words

Genre: smut, romance, slight angst

warnings under the cut

Note: i want to beat him up (affectionate)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and in no way an attempt to be a true depiction of anyone. It’s just fun!

Warnings: explicit content, smut, face sitting, oral [f], protected sex [very good]

"Okay... we're all set up," I said as I put the last pack of solo cups on the table, quickly looking over the spread of snacks and food that was laid out on the table. "Momo, you said the rest of the food will be here soon, right?"

"Yup!" the girl said cheerfully, sitting on the couch with her phone. "Ten large pizzas and an abnormal amount of wings."

"Courtesy of Jackson, of course." I said with a grin, earning a huff from the man in question. "Hey, you decided to host another party... it's your job!"

He rolled his eyes and waved me off. "Yeah, yeah. And it's not a party, I just wanted to hang out with my friends."

Jackson and Momo were two of my best friends and as usual, whenever Jackson wanted to throw something together, we would help him set it up. Still, I rolled my eyes at him. "Anything that involves you is a damn party, especially when alcohol is involved!"

Still, it ended up only being a chill, kickback situation, with just a few of our mutual friends arriving at Jackson's house within a few hours. Music was playing, folks either hanging around talking or sitting in the living room watching the soccer game playing on the TV.

I was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. I went to open the front door, my smile immediately falling off my face as soon as I saw the person standing there.

"Oh great. It's you," I groaned, turning to walk away. Of course he would be here.

"Great, my night is ruined before it even started," Chan said with a sigh, walking in with Felix and Changbin in tow. I threw a mean look at him over my shoulder.

"I could say the same damn thing," I hissed, giving the man I obviously did not like a once over. Jeans, white tshirt and chain, a blue snapback placed backwards on his head. I wrinkled my nose at him, turning my nose up and storming away.

I did my best to keep away from the absolute bane of my existence, hanging with Momo and Tsuyu in a corner with drinks in our hands.

"You have to admit..." Momo started, a mischievous tone in her voice. "The frat boy look he got going on is kind of attractive." She finished, giggling when I glared at her.

"I do not have a response to that," I hissed. "He's rude and annoying. That's not attractive at all."

"Mmhmm," Momo just hummed, sharing a knowing look with Tsuyu. "Whatever you say."

"Don't tease her," Tsuyu said with a grin. "She might kill you."

They laughed and I rolled my eyes, finishing my drink. I thought of getting another one, when Momo and Tsuyu suddenly shushed themselves. Someone stepped up to us and I scowled when I saw Chan.

"You got cashapp, right?" he asked and I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? Why the hell do you want to know?"

"Well," Chan started with a look. "I don't. I'm sending you money. Send it to Felix on his cashapp."

I made a face. "Why not ask Changbin?"

"He doesn't have zelle, oh my God. Just fucking do it."

I glared at him, watching him tap away on his phone. "What the hell is going on?" I asked, looking at my phone when I got the zelle notification. I tapped around, quickly sending Felix the money on cashapp.

"Owe him for buying the beers tonight," he answered and I nodded. Felix got a hefty discount at the liquor store for some unknown reason, so it was usual for us to take advantage of that.

"Well, that's done," I said, shooing Chan away. "Now go."

"Don't have to tell me twice. Could only listen to your voice so much before my ears start to bleed." And he went off with that, ignoring how my jaw dropped. I clenched my fists at my sides, Momo and Tsuyu having watched the entire interaction with amusement.

"God, he's so fucking infuriating," I growled, turning to my phone again and opening up the short text thread I had with Chan. Unfortunately since we were in the same circle, we were bound to get each other's numbers. I shot him a quick text anyway.

[10:37:45] me: lose my fucking number, christopher

[10:38:02]chris bitch: get fucked. dont text me again

I growled, clenching my phone in my fist tightly. Momo snorted, Tsuyu drinking from her cup. "Hey," Momo started. "You good?"

"No!" I answered before storming off to where the alcohol was. Momo snickered again, leaning in towards Tsuyu.

"You think she'll ever realize that Chris has been staring at her all night?"

Tsuyu giggled behind her hand. "No. She's too busy hate-lusting over him." That made Momo snort into her cup.

After I got another drink, I made my way over to the living area, where some of the guys were watching soccer. I managed to snag an empty seat on the couch, though unfortunately for me, Chan ended up sitting at the loveseat. I made a face, keeping my eyes on the TV.

Though I couldn't help taking a few glances at him, tapping my fingers against my bare knee. He shifted, eyes on the TV, his body relaxed with one arm draped over the back of the couch. I tightly clenched the skirt of my dress, biting the inside of my mouth.

"Dammit," I cursed, grabbing my phone and sending a quick text.

[11:05:17] me: he's so fucking fine it drives me absolutely insane

[11:05:32] me: i hate him and his stupid fucking hat and his stupid fucking face

[11:06:03] me: i wanna ride his face...

[11:06:43] me: i will kill Chan with my own two hands

After sending the quick slew of messages to the group chat with Momo and Tsuyu, I got up from the couch, leaving my phone on the cushion to keep my place as I went to get a snack. I didn't notice Chan looking at his phone, both his eyebrows drawn up as he laughed to himself.

I returned a moment later with some chips, grabbing my phone and frowning in confusion when I didn't see a response from either of the girls. I ate my chips, opening my phone and then the messenger app.

Except...

My jaw dropped, wide eyes staring at the text messages I accidentally sent to the wrong damn person. And I knew Chan had read them because of the God forsaken read on the corner of the last message. My heart fell to my ass, my face burning hot as I froze in place. Oh no....

Gulping, I dared to glance over, and that was a mistake. He was staring at me, a smug look on his face as he smirked at me. All he had to do was quirk an eyebrow up at me and I was shooting out of my seat and all but running away.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," I whispered to myself as I climbed up the stairs to the second floor. It was much quieter up there, a perfect place for me to deal with my utter embarrassment and humiliation. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the tears already start to burn in my eyes.

"Fuck, fuck!" I exclaimed, walking into one of the unused bedrooms, pacing around frantically. "I can't believe I sent those messages, God I'm so stupid. Shit, shit! He's gonna think I'm a fucking weirdo now."

My back was turned to the door as I continued to pace and talk at a mile a minute. "God please kill me now."

The door closed behind me and I whipped around, freezing in place as I saw Chan leaning back against the door he just closed, an amused look on his handsome face.

"No, please continue. It's fun watching you freak out like this," he said, gesturing with his hand and I glared at him, clenching my jaw.

"Haha, very funny," I tried to sound mean, but my tone didn't have it's usual bite it had whenever I spoke to him. I just looked away, standing there awkwardly as my lips trembled. I was not going to cry in front of him. "What the hell do you want? I'm already super embarrassed, so I'm sure nothing you'll say or do will make me feel even worse than I do now."

He pushed himself away from the door, stepping closer to me. "Why would I try to make you feel worse?" he asked and all I could do is give him a bewildered look.

"Um, because you don't fucking like me?" I answered and he just tilted his head, his lips curled up. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, frowning deeply. "A-and I'm sorry if those texts made you... uncomfortable or anything..." I bit my lip nervously, just wanting to disappear into a black hole. "God, this is a fucking disaster."

Chan had the nerve to laugh and I just heaved out a sigh, shoulders slumping. I looked up at him, gasping when he suddenly backed me up against the nearby bookshelf. One hand reached behind me to grab onto the shelf as he leaned in, leaving me partially trapped as he looked me in my eyes with his hooded ones.

"It didn't make me uncomfortable," he said, licking his lips slowly and I tried not to stare. "In fact, I found it kinda funny."

I huffed. "Well, that makes me feel better, I guess."

"Mmhmm," Chan hummed, and he stepped closer to me, our bodies barely touching. "Good, I'm glad. Let's make it even, shall we?” I just stared at him. “You wanna ride my face? Well, I want to fuck you into that mattress over there."

I gaped at him in disbelief, my heart pounding in my ears. Wh...what did he just say? He couldn't be serious, right? "Chris..."

"Well?" he asked, leaning his head in as he looked at me expectantly. "Should we make our little fantasies come true?"

My mouth went dry before I let out a nervous laugh. His presence was heavy, almost stifling as he openly ogled at me, eyes roaming all over my body before he looked back into my eyes. "This isn't funny, you jerk..."

"I'm not trying to be," Chan answered, lifting his other hand to grab my hip. I jolted. "You piss me the fuck off, but God if I didn't think about dragging you off somewhere to fuck you stupid. Maybe that'll make you shut up."

The image of that made it hard for me to swallow, the grip he had on my hip sending me into overdrive. Biting my lip, I looked over to the made bed before looking back at him. He smirked at that, grabbing my wrist and pulling me over to the bed.

"That's right," he said with a laugh. "Take your panties off, but keep the dress on. It's cute."

"I-" I blushed, looking down at the floral dress I wore as Chan went to lock the door. I looked up and his shirt was off, so I scrambled to pull down my panties as he climbed on the bed after kicking off his sneakers.

I could not believe I was doing this.

I tossed my panties to the floor, looking at Chan who made himself comfortable on the bed. I barely had time to appreciate his body before he beckoned me over with his hand. "Well? Come on, take a seat."

I flushed, a deep chill going down my spine as I closed my eyes. I took in a deep breath before I climbed on the bed, hesitating before I straddled his hips. Something hard pressed against my thigh, but I didn't dare acknowledge it.

Chan then huffed, growing impatient. "Get your ass up here, what the fuck?"

"Shut up, I'm coming," I hissed back at him, my face hovering over his as I put my arms down to start crawling upwards. "You're fucking annoying."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Chan snorted, his hands grabbing my hips as he helped me move up until my knees were on either side of his head, my pussy hovering just over his face. He took in a shuddering breath. "Well shit..."

"W-what..." I asked, feeling super exposed by this position, biting my lip as I felt his breath ghost over my thighs. "Shut up..."

That made him laugh as he squeezed my thighs, and I let him pull me down right on top of his mouth. I gripped the headboard, closing my eyes and gasping softly when I felt his tongue give me one slow, deep lick. He did it again, hands squeezing my thighs tightly as he started eating me out.

Chan's mouth was heavenly, my legs shaking as I moaned out repeatedly in pleasure. "It feels good..." I moaned softly, earning a small chuckle as he circled my clit with his tongue.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sucking my clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it. I cried out, my knuckles turning white with how hard I grabbed the headboard.

"Fuck! Chris, oh my God," I gasped, bowing my head between my arms. My dress completely draped around his head, making the scene all the more arousing. I whimpered loudly, stilling as his hand moved under my dress and I felt him press two fingers against my entrance.

"No," I gasped out and he stilled immediately, moving his hands out of my dress to hold my hips.

"Are you okay?"

"I need you now," I whimpered again and I could hear him let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God, I thought I did something wrong."

"The only thing you're doing wrong is not putting your dick inside me."

Chan laughed, pushing me back until I was sitting on the mattress, holding myself up with my arms. He sat up, and the look in his eyes sent chills down my spine. Dark and fierce, full of lust as he continued to move until I was on my back, him hovering over me as he licked his lips.

"You taste good, by the way," he hummed, biting his bottom lip as he leaned in. "Here, try..." He pressed his lips to mine in a deep kiss, shoving his tongue in my mouth to make me taste myself. I groaned deeply, grabbing onto his shoulders as he kissed my breath away.

"Fuck..." he groaned, sitting up on his knees as looking down at me. "You're so fucking hot. I bet you wore this pretty dress to get my attention, huh?"

I rolled my eyes and snorted. "The day I wear anything to get your attention is the day Hell freezes over. Get over yourself, Christopher."

He snickered, digging into his jean pockets and tossing the object onto my belly. I grabbed the tiny foil packet, blushing slightly as he climbed off the bed to pull off his jeans and underwear. Just seeing him in all his glory turned me on, licking my lips as he stood before me. My eyes moved down and down, eyes going wide when I saw his dick.

Chan grinned widely. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out, babe," he promised as he climbed back over me, kissing me again. We made out for a bit, his hands massaging all over my body through my dress. He kissed down my neck and I ran my fingers through his hair, eyes fluttering closed. "Here... put it on."

Chan pressed the wrapped condom to my hand before sitting up on his knees again. I sat up, kissing him as I tore open the condom, tossing the foil to the floor. I bit my lip as I put the condom on him, looking up and kissing on his chin as I stroked his dick a few times.

"Shit, you better stop," Chan said before he grabbed my wrist. He pinned me back down to the bed, kissing me hard. He kept his lips on mine as he reached down between us, grabbing his cock and pressing it against me. He pushed in, and my head tilted back as I let out a low groan.

"Shit," I cursed, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as Chan pressed kisses on my neck. The stretch burned deliciously, and I found myself panting as Chan pushed himself all the way inside me.

"God, you feel so good," Chan moaned against my neck, not waiting before he's slowly thrusting in and out of me. He made sure his lips were pressing against me, either kissing me or sliding along my neck and chest. His fingers curled into my hair, his free hand moving down to hike one of my legs up.

"Mmmn, Chris," I moaned, my mouth falling open as he started to fuck into me faster, and deeper. He pressed hot kisses to my neck, the bed creaking with each thrust. "Please..."

He stopped, and before I could protest, I'm turned onto my stomach, a bit disoriented as he pulled me up to my knees and elbows, my dress hanging off around my waist. I groaned when he pushed himself right back into me, grabbing my hips harshly.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with our moans and groans. The way he fucked me made stars burst in my vision, me pressing my face against the mattress as I cried from the intense pleasure.

"Yeah, it feel good?" Chan asked, his breaths coming out in pants. "You like it when I fuck you?"

"Hmm!" I could only moan as I nod my head, my fists clutching the bed sheets as he drives his cock into me. I turned my head to breathe, gasping out as I could see him in my peripheral vision. "So good! Fuck, Chris...” I shook my head, the more logical part of me screaming at me for doing this with him of all people. “Ugh, I hate you.”

He threw his head back and laughed loudly, leaning over me. His chest pressed against my back as he whispered harshly in my ear. "I hate you too." Before he pressed a kiss against it. He chuckled again, straightening up to keep fucking me.

"Hmm..." I hummed, biting my lip. "Chan.. I'm close..." I whimpered. "I need..."

"Yeah, baby, I gotchu," Chan whispered, keeping up his thrusts as he wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing his fingers against my clit. He smirked when I moaned, circling my clit with his fingers. "Ya gonna cum around my cock, huh?"

"Hm, yes!" I cried out, pressing my face to the mattress again. He kept at it, earning more and more moans and whines from me as I felt myself get closer and closer to my orgasm.

"That's it," Chan whispered harshly, sweat dripping down his temples. "Come on, baby. Cum for me, yeah?"

I whined again, and not soon after, my orgasm hit me like a bus and I cried into the mattress as insane pleasure washed over my body. My walls squeezed tightly around his cock, making Chan groan deeply as he fucked me through my orgasm.

"Shit... shit..." he gasped harshly, fucking into me a few more times until he's finally cumming himself, cursing under his breath as he released his load into the condom. "Fuck!"

After a moment, he pulled out of me and we both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. I turned to lay on my back, my eyes half closed, not focused at all as I stared up at the ceiling. I licked my lips, looking over at Chan who also moved to his back, his forearm covering his eyes.

"We have a problem," he suddenly spoke and I blinked at him. "I might want to do this again."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, sitting up on the bed. "You're lucky we even did this at all." I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing my panties from the floor. Chan laughed, pulling the condom off him and tying it off before throwing it in the trash.

"Hmm, maybe so," he replied and I rolled my eyes again before moving to pull my panties on. "Wait."

I blinked at him again and, while still naked, Chan reached into the nightstand and tossed me a pack of baby wipes. "To clean yourself with."

"Oh..." I said rather dumbly. "That's thoughtful... thank you..."

We cleaned ourselves up in a comfortable silence, which surprised me. There was no awkwardness or anything of the sort. He got dressed while I fixed myself up, not saying a word even as we left the bedroom and made our way back to a still pretty live party.

I ignored Momo and Tsuyu's pestering and questioning my whereabouts, effectively shutting them up with a harsh glare. My face was burning hot, and I just couldn't tell them what happened yet.

Hours later, we finally left, and as I dozed off in the back of Momo's car, I got another text.

[4:23:32] chris bitch: you still want me to lose your number ;)

[4:23:46] me: fuck off

-end

next ->

#bangchan x reader #skz x reader #bangchan smut #skz smut #bangchan fanfic #skz fanfic #this was a fun one #four more parts to go lol

89 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 7 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 21: Holiday

You, Joel and Ellie celebrate Christmas in Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-20 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

December 24, 2026

“They really didn’t make Christmas music with dancing in mind, did they?”

Your head was on Joel’s shoulder, a pleasantly drunk haze falling over your mind and sinking into your limbs. You smiled at Tommy’s question, his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“No they did not,” you said, even though you knew the question was rhetorical.

Half of Jackson was crowded into the Tipsy Bison. Christmas music was on the stereo, someone in the kitchen had made egg nog, the whole bar was draped in multi-colored Christmas lights casting everything in a a cheerful glow.

You’d been in Jackson for more than a year now, something that was hard to believe. Last year at this time you’d spent all your spare time at home alone - except when Ellie all but broke down your door, anyway. You’d missed all this without even knowing that you’d missed it.

Christmas hadn’t mattered much to you in years. The last real one you had before the world ended was really only special because you got to see your brothers again for the first time in months. The holiday itself hadn’t been what mattered.

But you’d felt an odd sense of anticipation this time, something you hadn’t felt since you were a kid. Being around other people who remembered the time before - who knew what it had been like when there were things like Christmas tree lots and mall Santas - made it feel exciting in way the holiday hadn’t in years past, even when you were a teenager.

It helped that Joel was recovered from the incident in August. He had returned to business as usual, going out on patrol with Tommy who had fully healed, too. But their first time out, you’d insisted on going, too.

“You really don’t need to worry about it, Sweetheart,” Joel said. “It’s just a day long patrol, not goin’ anywhere rough. Gonna be fine.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me going,” you shrugged. “Olivia can cover for me at the stables and I can cover you and Tommy’s asses.”

Joel laughed a little and sighed.

“Alright,” he kissed your temple. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can come out with us. This time.”

It had been an easy day, unseasonably warm for October. The three of you went to a small town that was about a five hour ride from Jackson, a town that happened to have a record store.

“Oh shit!” You said, flipping through CDs on the dank and rotting shelves. “They have the White Stripes!”

Joel frowned, looking over your shoulder.

“Who’s that?”

“I’ll play you something when we get back,” you said, turning the CD over to look at the track list. “They’re good and they have a girl drummer which automatically makes them even better. I was just thinking of them the other day, I think Ellie would like them…”

Joel smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “She probably would.”

You stashed the CD and a few others in your pack, saving them to give Ellie at Christmas. They were wrapped and under a tree in Joel’s living room now and you were more excited about watching her open them and listening to them with her for the first time than you were to open what had your name on it under the tree.

“Think I can con you into a dance anyhow?” Joel asked, brushing your hairline with his nose.

“You know,” you smiled. “Think I’m just drunk enough for it to work.”

He took your hand and led you to the dance floor just as It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas came on the stereo. You smiled and draped your arms around Joel’s neck, your whole body pressed against the front of him, so different from the first time you’d danced with him.

“You sure are pretty,” he smiled, swaying gently, his hands at your back.

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, smiling too.

“Sure you don’t need glasses?” He teased and you rolled your eyes before tucking your head against his chest and shoulder, your nose brushing his neck.

“I’ve known you for a year now,” you said quietly after a minute of just moving gently with him.

“That all?” Joel said. “Seems like I’ve always known you.”

You smiled against him.

“I think I would have gone looking for you sooner, if I knew you existed,” you said. “Just didn’t know any better.”

Joel’s lips brushed your cheek.

“Would have definitely gotten my ass out of Boston a few decades earlier,” he said. “Lot I would’ve done different, had I known better.”

He held you a little tighter.

“Is it bad that I think I’m lookin’ forward to the day after Christmas more than Christmas?” He asked.

“What?” You laughed a little and pulled back from him enough to look at his face. “Why?”

“Two days just you n’me,” he smiled. “I know it’s patrol but… feels almost like a camping trip or vacation. Getting out of town, ridin’ through snow covered forest, ski lodge waiting at the end? Can’t think of much better than that.”

“Well when you put it that way,” you teased, tucking your head against him again. “But I get what you mean. Though I’m pretty excited for Christmas with Ellie. Haven’t had a real Christmas with trees and lights and shit with a kid in a long time. Almost feels like I should try to convince her Santa is real or something, just really make the whole experience happen for her.”

“I’m just glad she’s speakin’ to me this Christmas,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze, his voice thick. “Got you to thank for that.”

“She’d have come around eventually,” you said. “Kids… They’re smart. They see things, they know. She knows you love her. She’d understand it one day, even without my help.”

“Startin’ to feel like all the good things I got I got because of you,” he said softly.

You lifted your head to look him in the eye, his gaze gentle and deep, his eyes crinkling at the edges with his soft smile.

“Well you’ve saved my life enough times,” you said. “Seems like it’s only fair. I couldn’t have anything without you. Don’t think I’d want it without you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes on your own and, for a moment, you were certain there was no one left inside the bar but him and you.

He took you home after, walking slow through the falling snow with the first coat Joel had ever given you wrapped around you. You closed the curtains on the front window before plugging in the lights on the tree, just looking at it twinkling in the dark as you curled against Joel’s side on the couch. But before too long, you kissed him all soft and needy, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

Joel undressed you gently and stretched you out beneath him on the couch. He covered your body with his, warm and hard as you rocked your hips against his length. He kissed you as he entered you, sinking into your tight heat until his body was flush with yours and he was buried within you. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment and your eyes met his, the lights reflected there as your heavy breaths matched his own. You reached up and traced the outline of him, your fingers brushing into his hair. You could feel his heartbeat in your own body, the life and warmth and vibrancy of him enveloping and consuming you. For a moment, you thought you might be able to know anything that crossed his mind, that he’d know anything that crossed your own. You were broken open and laid bare for him and all you wanted him to do was hold the pieces of you close and understand with a deep certainty how they fit together. You didn’t think you’d ever been this close to another person. You never wanted to be this close to someone who wasn’t Joel ever again.

Everything in you was drawn tight and desperate, the heat of want threatening to swallow you whole and you were sure you were going to burst with it.

“Joel,” you were almost squirming below him, needing the friction, needing more, eyes wide as you panted for breath. “Please…”

“Please what?” He sounded almost as desperate as you.

“Need you to move,” your eyes searched his. “Need to feel you, it’s too much, need…”

“Shh,” he brushed your hair back, his palm lingering on the crown of your head. You were suddenly aware of everywhere he was, how he was everything. He was around you and inside you and over you, the thick weight of his cock filling every hollow space of you. He dropped his forehead to yours and closed his eyes for a moment, like he was concentrating before opening them again. His pupils were blown and he was looking at you as though you were the only thing left in the world. “I’ve got you, Baby. Gonna take such good care of you.”

You just nodded against him and he pressed somehow deeper into you, his pubic bone pressing almost painfully against you before he pulled back, the slow drag of his hips making you moan as his the ridge of his head worked your channel. He pushed back into you firmly, tenderly, opening your body to him so he could reach parts of you that he seemed to have claimed for himself and you were happy to offer them.

Like this with him you could understand why it was called making love. There was a sense that feeling him like this, experiencing him like this, had to exist somewhere outside of just yourself. It was too big to contain within yourself, what the two of you created when he brought you to your peak with an aching and heady rhythm.

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, grinding his length deeper into you. You just nodded even though he hadn’t really asked. He knew. He didn’t need to ask. “Love feeling you like this. Want you to come for me, Baby. Want you to give in to it, want you to let go for me.”

You nodded again, past the point of being able to form words. Your back arched, closing whatever minuscule gap there was between your bodies. Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with your own before putting it over your head and pressing it down into the couch, pulling a strangled moan from you as he did.

“Joel,” you managed. “Want… want to feel you…”

“Just let go,” he whispered. “Give you everything you want if you just come for me, Baby. Just come for me…” He pressed deep and you felt the building tension in you crest and overflow, your channel fluttering over him, working his thick shaft as you came with a broken cry.

“Oh there we go,” he held himself deep inside, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it Baby, just keep coming, just keep…”

He moaned and you felt him throb inside of you, felt the heat of his come as he filled you. His hand tightened on yours and you instinctively tilted your hips to make sure he was as deep within you as he could possibly be.

You held each other like that for a while, Joel still buried inside you as his broad hand gently stroked your hair as you looked at him in the glow of the Christmas tree.

He must have carried you to bed at some point, and you woke up tangled with him, your head on his chest and his hand splayed wide on your back. The light pouring through the window was bright, the morning sun reflecting on the fresh snow and making his bedroom light and crisp. You kissed his chest and he sighed contentedly.

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled at him.

Joel smiled back.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest damn present.”

You laughed a little.

“Ellie say a time she was comin’ by?” Joel asked, hand sliding up your back to brush your cheek. “Or just that she was?”

“Just sometime in the morning,” you said. “Why?”

“Thinkin’ I really want to fuck you into this mattress before makin’ you breakfast,” he said. “But don’t want to be interrupted…”

As if on cue, you heard the bang of the front door against the wall downstairs. You laughed and pressed your face into Joel’s chest to muffle the sound.

“Where are you guys?” Ellie yelled. “Being gross?”

“Down in a minute, Kiddo!” Joel yelled back as you pulled your face from his chest to look at him again. He held your face and pulled you in for kiss.

“Later?” You asked quietly.

Joel groaned.

“Absolutely.”

You got dressed quickly and found Ellie sitting on the floor by the tree, turning the paper-wrapped packages over and examining them.

“Merry Christmas, Kiddo,” Joel smiled at her and she looked up from the gift in her hands.

“Did people really used to believe a fat old man came down their chimney and left them shit?”

You snorted and Joel laughed a little.

“Generally just the kids,” he said. “Gimme a minute to make some coffee, then you can rip into everything.”

You tucked yourself into a corner of the couch and smiled, watching Ellie rifle through the presents under the tree. It made your heart ache a bit to watch her. That she’d never had this as a girl hurt. That you hadn’t been able to do this in decades hurt, too. It felt like so much lost time, so many things that could have been better or different and they weren’t. So many things that you missed out on because you’d been holed up in the wilderness and hadn’t looked for a place like Jackson, hadn’t had the faith that a place like this could exist.

You tried not to think about it, fought to focus on anything but what could have been if you’d just tried to find this place years ago.

Joel pressed a warm mug into your hands and sat next to you on the couch, putting his arm over your shoulders, tugging you against him and kissing the top of your head. You took a sip and smiled a little at the taste of whiskey. He’d spiked it.

“Alright Old Man,” Ellie said, picking up one of the packages she brought and holding it out for him. “This one is for you.”

Ellie had made you each a charcoal drawing. Yours of Renaissance, Joel’s of you. Your eyes went a little wide at it. It’s not like you’d posed for her or anything, you hadn’t even noticed her doing it. It was strange to see yourself the way Ellie apparently did. You were pretty, the way she saw you, a softness in the drawing that you didn’t associate with yourself.

“This is amazing, Baby Girl,” Joel said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Figured I already drew you a horse,” she shrugged. “Thought you’d like something pretty to look at. And she’s got good taste, thought she’d want something better than your face on her wall.”

Joel laughed before you could protest.

“Got that right,” he said.

Joel got Ellie a stash of art supplies that you knew he must have been tracking down for the better part of the year, watercolors and pencils and full sketchpads and you gave her the CDs and a few comic books you’d found that you thought she’d like.

“Oh shit!” She yanked open the first comic. “Look at this guy, he’s got like… laser vision!”

You laughed and pressed closer to Joel and he kissed the crown of your head before he leaned forward and picked up something from below the tree, handing it to you.

You unwrapped it and opened the old shoe box. Inside was the carving of a horse, beautiful and intricate, delicate legs and a tail that looked like it was somehow in motion while being formed out of wood.

“Joel,” you gasped, running your finger over the smooth surface. “It’s beautiful…”

“Thought you needed somethin’ of your own in that house over there,” he said. “Or over here. When you want.”

You looked over at him and smiled, tears stinging at your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around him. You stretched and got your gifts for Joel next before you ended up fully crying on Christmas morning.

He opened the first one slowly and smiled at it, a holster you made from scrap leather for a knife he’d picked up the last time you were on patrol together.

“You act like you can’t do shit like this and then you make somethin’ great,” he smiled at you, running his thumb over where you’d burned his initials into the sheath just like you had with the guitar strap.

“Tell me that after it holds up for a few patrols,” you said, face getting hot. You took a sip of coffee.

He opened the next one as you gnawed on your lower lip. It was just a little box and he tugged the top off of it, revealing a slender chain with a piece of metal as a charm. He frowned, running his thumb over it.

“I made it from part of the bullet they pulled out of your leg,” you said, looking over his shoulder as he turned it in his palm. You’d cut “E + B” into one side of it. “Thought you should have a reminder that you’ve got people waiting for you. Next time you’re out for a few days.”

He took a shaky breath and kissed you tenderly, deeply, before putting it on, looking at it in his palm.

“I love it, Baby,” he said softly.

“Look at Bambi, being all sentimental,” Ellie teased from her spot on the floor, already using one of the new sketchpads from Joel. You glared at her, trying not to smile, and she laughed.

“One more,” you said before pressing your nose into Joel’s shoulder. For some reason, this made you anxious. Like the gifts were leaving you exposed. You dug your nails into your thigh to keep your leg from bouncing too much.

Joel unwrapped the cassette tape, looking at the label.

“Daylight,” he read from the tag. You’d tried to write it out in your best handwriting, the kind you hadn’t used in years but that your mother had drilled into you. “Don’t think I know this artist, who’s…”

You cut him off before he could read the name aloud.

First, middle, last.

“You do,” you said. “That’s… that’s me.”

His head whipped around to look at you, his eyes a little wide.

“I wrote it,” you nodded at the tape. “The quality is questionable - it’s just from an old audio recorder from my house - and I’ll play it for you if you want. But… Anyway, I wrote it for you and… well, felt like I should put my real name on it. No one’s really known it in a while but I wanted you to.”

“Baby…” he breathed, looking back at the tape. “This…”

“You can keep calling me Bambi,” you smiled a little. “Everyone else does. Which is still your fault, by the way.”

He laughed.

“This is amazing,” he said. “You’re amazing, I…”

“I’m going to need you guys to not be gross when I’m in the room,” Ellie groaned dramatically.

“Don’t worry, Kiddo,” Joel said. “Think we can keep it under control. Got a few more here…”

He picked up a small package and handed it to you.

You opened it, a CD inside, one you didn’t know. You looked at the back, frowning, only to find that it was an album of accompaniment tracks for violin.

“Oh, cool!” You said, looking over the track list. “I could definitely adapt these parts for guitar and…”

“Well, didn’t say you’d need to do that,” Joel said, clapping his hands on his knees before getting up. “Just a sec…”

Joel left and you frowned to Ellie, who just shrugged, her pencil frozen over the paper. He returned just a minute later, a violin in one hand and something you didn’t recognize in the other.

“Wasn’t sure how to wrap either of these so…”

You practically jumped off the couch, eyes wide, and took the instrument from him, holding it reverently.

“Where did you find this?” You asked, looking over the body. It looked to be in amazing condition.

Joel smiled.

“Been on the look out for one since you told me what instruments you played,” he said. “Got a bow and extra strings too, should be set for a bit.”

You threw the arm that wasn’t holding the violin around his neck and he laughed before giving you a squeeze. When you pulled away from him, he turned to Ellie.

“And this is for you,” he said, unfolding the bundle in his hand. Ellie got up, frowning at it for a second but watching as he did. “Figured since you’re gettin’ real good at your art, you should have all the tools…”

He finished putting it all together and set it down, an easel that was the perfect size for the largest sketchpad that Joel had gotten her.

“Oh shit!” Her face lit up. “This is like… real artist stuff!”

“Well yeah,” Joel shrugged, crossing his arms. “You’re a real artist, Kiddo. Need real artist stuff.”

Ellie practically hurled herself at him and he laughed, catching her out of the air. You smiled, watching them. They had become so much more like what you imagined them to have been before Ellie learned the truth about the hospital. It had taken a few months to get them there and you learned that giving them projects to work on together seemed to be the best way to move them along.

You started with shoeing the horses and quickly pinned down Tommy to come up with some more ideas for ways to get them progressing toward a common goal. They worked with him to build a new, larger pen for some of the livestock. You ended up concocting busy work that didn’t seem like busy work every other week or so until you noticed Ellie coming by the house of her own accord and Joel spending more than a few perfunctory minutes when he went to the outbuilding she called home. Every now and then, you still saw signs of Ellie being introspective. Sometimes she would go quiet, glancing at Joel with her brows drawn together and her eyes dark. But it was so much better than it was and you could clearly see the people they had become to each other as they survived crossing the United States.

The two of them were doing better than you’d ever really seen them by Christmas. You weren’t sure if it was the holiday or they had always been building to this point, but there was no sign of the tension that had been there as long as you’d known them both. It was hard to believe that the Ellie who was color swatching her new pencils and excitedly telling Joel about things like the saturation of the pigment was the same Ellie who had come over to your house, upset that you and Joel were together.

She left to exchange gifts with friends in the afternoon and you passed the time playing guitar with Joel while watching the snow drift down outside before holding each other on the couch, stretched out long and pressed close, something that earned you both an “Ugh I thought you were supposed to be adults, show some self control” when Ellie came back a few hours later.

After dinner with Tommy, Maria, William and the rest of Jackson, Ellie went home and Joel tried to put the cassette you’d made him in the boombox in his room but you begged him not to.

“Why not?” He frowned. “I’m excited to hear it…”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, putting your arms around his waist. “I will let you fuck me if you wait until I am not within earshot to listen to that. I can’t stand hearing my own stuff, makes me want to crawl out of my skin.”

Joel smiled and shook his head a little.

“You were gonna let me fuck you, anyway.”

“Moot point.”

He kissed you gently.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wait until you go home tomorrow to get your stuff for patrol. Think I’ve got the self control to hold off ’til then…”

You laughed and kissed him again, his hands growing eager against you. You rode him, your hands spread wide on his chest, memorizing the way the moonlight reflecting on the snow cast the shadows over his face, coming around him with a whimpering moan. As you fell asleep on his chest, his softening length still inside you as he held you close, you felt more at home than you had since you’d fled the home you’d made after the outbreak.

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. You weren’t sure he was conscious enough to hear you but he held you a little tighter all the same.

***

Joel had always loved the outdoors but there was something about being in the woods after it snowed that was damn near magic.

It was like that now, out with you the day after Christmas. The snow hung heavy on the trees, boughs drooping toward the earth like they were covered in frosting, the crystalline layer catching the light and sending it shattering off the tree trunks.

The almost blinding light caught your eyes and hair and the snowflakes did, too, making you look like some otherworldly being. One that he should know better than to try to touch but was too selfish not to.

He’d listened to the tape when you left to head to your place to gather your things for patrol that morning. He just held the cassette for a moment, eyes tracing over the graceful lettering that spelled the title and your name.

You’d given him your name. You had told him why you didn’t like to share it, why you hadn’t shared it with anyone but the doctor here in decades. There was a power in it. So much of what you had and who you were had been weaponized against you since the outbreak. It made sense that you’d keep something close and for yourself and yourself alone. And he’d been content with that. He had more of you than he deserved, he wasn’t about to go and ask for more.

But you’d given him your name. First, middle, last. Because you wanted him to have that part of you, too.

He said it out loud to himself, testing the words on his tongue, picturing you as he did, tying the person he knew to the name that belonged to you.

Joel put the tape in the stereo and pressed play, turning the volume down a little. Just in case someone was walking by outside. He didn’t want to share this with them in any way. This was just for him.

There was a few seconds of crackling almost silence before you spoke, the sound clearer than he’d really expected it to be.

“Hey Joel,” your voice sounded close and almost nervous. He smiled at that, that you’d be nervous playing for him even after all this time. “I’ve kind of been wishing I was better with words since I’ve known you. I’m not exactly a poet so it’s kind of hard for me to say what you mean to me. But… well, I do know music. This doesn’t quite say it right, either, but it does a better job than I could on my own. I love you, Joel. So much.”

He listened close, could hear the quiet sound of your breaths and the sound of you adjusting the guitar in your arms before you started playing.

The music made Joel’s heart ache, so beautiful it almost hurt to listen to it. It was slow and gentle and intricate and longing, made him think of what it was to look at you and feel you and have you consume so much of who he was because he wanted you to, didn’t want himself without you.

When the song ended, the final chord hanging on the air, there was a pinch of tears at the back of his throat. He sniffed and tried to blink them back as there was a rustling on the recording and he could picture you adjusting your guitar.

“I hope you liked it,” you laughed a little. “And I hope it makes sense. Hope you know how much I love you. Because I do. Always will.”

The tape ended and Joel rewound it, collecting himself before listening to it again.

You were already at the stables when Joel got there, strapping your things to Renaissance’s side and humming to yourself. Joel didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure he’d really be able to speak past the lump in his throat. Instead, he went to you and you frowned when you saw him.

“Everything OK?” You asked. He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head and clutching you close. You paused a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze. “Joel?”

“Love you,” he managed, not willing to let you go quite yet.

“Love you too,” you pulled back from him to look at him and laughed a little. “You alright?”

He kissed your forehead.

“Got you,” he said. “I’m great.”

The patrol had been quiet, just like Joel thought it would be. He hadn’t gone out with just you since snow started falling and he was ready for the kinds of patrols that came with winter. Last patrol with you had been in late October and the two of you had been caught up in a hoard of infected that was making its way south, migrating to survive the winter. You’d gotten pinned down at one point, Joel damn near panicking at the sight of it. He was able to get to you and knock the infected away, giving you enough space to raise your gun and fire. You’d made it out unscathed but with a lesson learned.

“Need shit I can use at close range,” you’d panted, dusting yourself off. “Baseball bat. Axe, maybe. Knife isn’t enough.”

Joel had found you an axe the second the two of you were back to Jackson and it was strapped to the side of your horse where you could easily free it to swing at anything headed your way.

But he didn’t think you’d need it today. This point in the season, the raiders were holed up to ride out the weather, not wanting to risk exposure by roaming much. Infected - with a few exceptions - had all fled the cold. These patrols were mostly to make sure anyone watching knew that Jackson was going to protect and maintain its territory, even when there wasn’t much to protect against.

The forest was quiet, you riding alongside Joel when the trail was wide enough to allow for it. You just looked around at the trees, enjoying nature for what it was, Joel taking advantage of the quiet to watch you do it. He’d be happy to watch you do just about anything.

“Almost like the end of the world never happened when you’re out here,” you said quietly, looking up at the snow-coated branches. “Like it’s a whole other world.”

The two of you saw no signs of anyone else when you made it to the lodge for the night, twilight on the horizon because days were short and nights were long this time of year. You settled the horses while Joel got a fire going in the fireplace inside. He set out your sleeping bags in front of the stone hearth, the setting sun casting the snow in shades of pink and orange from the wall of windows beyond. He pulled a small pot out of his bag and put some leftovers from the Christmas dinner the night before he’d managed to snag before they all got snapped up, turkey and stuffing and gravy warming as you came in from taking care of the horses.

“That smells incredible,” you said, putting your arms around Joel’s neck and pressing your body close. You were in his coat and his shirt, wrapping yourself up in him and he loved it, relished that he was what made you feel safe.

“Can’t take much credit,” he said, kissing you gently. “Just swiped it.”

“More than I managed,” you tangled your fingers in his hair, your soft gaze holding his. He sometimes thought the entire universe was contained in your eyes, like if he looked into them for long enough he’d find the answers to everything he’d ever questioned, the fulfillment of everything he’d ever longed for. “This was nice. Should talk them into letting me out of the stables more.”

“Won’t catch me arguin’,” he smiled, nuzzling against your cheek. “Not sure I can promise the more gourmet dinner options the rest of the year, though.”

You laughed and kissed him, soft and sweet, tongue dipping into his mouth.

“Think we’d be just fine with jerky,” you said, voice breathy.

He smiled back.

“Think so, too.”

You ate dinner close together, you tucked against his side. After, the two of you took turns playing guitar and singing, sticking close to the fire as it grew dark outside. Eventually, Joel set the guitar aside and took your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before smiling against your lips.

“What?” You teased.

“First kissed you up here,” he said. “Worried I wasn’t ever gonna get to again. Now I can kiss you whenever I want.”

“And it’s somehow not enough for me,” you kissed him again and he pulled you onto his lap before he undressed you slowly. You unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it down his arms until his skin was warm against your bare chest. You pressed yourself close and tight to him, rocking your clothed core over his hardening length.

“Want you,” you were damn near panting.

“Past wantin’ you,” he pulled you somehow closer. “Been far past it all day. Since I listened to your tape.”

You pulled back from him a little and he took advantage of the distance to look at your bared skin.

“You heard it?” You asked quietly. He nodded. “Did… did you like it?”

“Oh, Baby,” he cupped your cheek. “I loved it.”

You smiled and kissed him again and he held you close before maneuvering you onto your back on top of the sleeping bags, the heat from the fire warm on his skin. He tugged your jeans and panties off, casting them aside before removing his own. He ran his hands over your thighs, the softness of your skin in sharp contrast to the roughness of his own. His fingers reached your slit, all damp heat as he traced over you to your clit. You moaned, rocking your hips against him. He watched the muscle of your thighs tighten and shift and he took your ankle in his large hand, moving your foot to his shoulder so he could trail his lips over the supple flesh of the inside of your leg. He took his hand from your leg to grip his hardening cock as he toyed with your pussy as your back arched below him. He brushed his head against your swollen sex and all he could think about was opening you up to him, burying himself inside you until he couldn’t separate himself from you anymore.

His eyes traced over you, your pupils blown, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

He lined himself up with your tight, grasping hole and lowered himself over you, his chest on yours, his lips inches from your own. He sank into you slowly, watched as his making space for himself inside you came over you, your eyes rolling back every so slightly before closing, the delicate moans from your parted lips. He breathed your name — your real name - as he reached the very end of you and you gasped, eyes opening to search his.

“Joel,” you whispered. He kissed you softly, sheathed within you. “Call me that again. Want… want to hear you say my name.”

He obeyed, pressing impossibly deeper before pulling out, slow but firm, before opening you up to him again, your name on his tongue as he did. Joel worked your body slow and steady, his orgasm building slowly alongside yours, your name falling from his lips again and again like a prayer in the night until your fluttering core made him spill into you.

Neither of you bothered putting clothes on before climbing into one sleeping bag, your bodies close and warm. He watched you sleep in his arms by the dying firelight and he wasn’t ready to let you go when you both woke up in the morning.

The warm glow of you left him optimistic as the two of you got underway again. It didn’t seem like anything could happen when he was with you like this. Like the two of you existed in a separate reality where people didn’t get hurt, where the evils of people couldn’t exist.

“Joel?” You said, a few hours into the journey on the return trail. He stopped his horse alongside yours and you nodded into the woods, a good 10 feet off the trail. It looked like a large animal had been making its way through the snow before turning around.

“Could be an elk or somethin’,” he said. “Might not be a horse…”

You didn’t respond. You just dismounted, grabbing your axe and patting Renaissance’s neck as you picked your way through the snow and the brush to the point off the trail. Joel sighed but followed you, catching up to you just as you froze, staring down at the snow. There were distinct signs that there was a person with the animal and Joel sighed before he realized exactly what you were staring at. Just the start of a footprint in the snow, it didn’t have the chance to sink low to the ground like they’d been stopped. Just shallow enough to easily make out the size of the foot. It was small, too small to belong to a grown man. It was either a child - maybe a teenager - or a small woman.

“Bambi…” he said cautiously, but you ignored him, turning on your heel, hooking your axe into its place on your saddle and mounting Renaissance.

“Those tracks are relatively fresh,” you said. “It was snowing until after midnight and they’re not covered.”

“We should go back and…”

“No,” you said sharply. “Then it might be too late. We have to try. Joel, please…”

He met your gaze, your eyes wide and desperate.

“Please,” you whispered.

He sighed but climbed back on his horse.

“Somethin’ goes bad,” he said. “You get back to Jackson, get help. Understand?”

You nodded and Joel led the way, trying to move as quickly as he could through the woods and the snow.

After going almost two hours out of the way, the two of you stumbled upon what had clearly been a campsite not all that long ago. There were signs of at least a dozen or so men, the campfires no longer warm but not snow-covered either.

You got off Renaissance again and started going around the area but Joel wasn’t sure what you were looking for. He dismounted, anyway, following close behind you as you picked through the signs of life that were here. Eventually, you whistled, something almost like a bird call but slightly off before going quiet.

“Bambi…”

“Shh.”

He obeyed and you gave another whistle the same way, holding your hand out to signal him to stay quiet. There was no response.

You visibly deflated before turning and pressing your face to Joel’s chest. He put his arms around you and held you gentle and close, feeling your warmth against him.

“You’re OK Love,” he said softly.

“Not me I’m worried about,” you sniffed, voice thick.

“I know,” he held you closer. “I know… I know you want to help people who are hurtin’ like you. But you can’t save everyone, Baby, you just can’t.”

You were silent and he just held you close.

“We’ll head back,” he said quietly. “Report it. Send a team out with enough guns and men to handle a group of this size, see what we can’t find.”

You nodded against him, clutching him close.

“We wouldn’t have been able to help ‘em,” he whispered. “There were too many of them, would have gotten us both killed. Better this way. They’ll have a chance now.”

You pulled away from him and dried your eyes.

“Should get back,” you said, tone serious. “Sooner we’re back to Jackson, sooner we can send help.”

“C’mon,” he put his arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the horses, turning to look back the way the two of you had come.

He stopped in his tracks.

Just like the sign you’d spotted months before, freshly carved into the trunks of the trees, were two large Xes, like they were waiting for him.

What scared him more was the thought that they might be waiting for you.

Next Chapter

A/N: Yay, soft Jackson Christmas!

...other stuff is happening too.

Really really really soon.

BUT I LOVE YOU!!!

Thank you so much for reading and for being here. I'm seriously so excited to share what's coming next, I hope you're excited to see what happens, too. All your kindness and support means the world, just thank you thank you thank you. Love you all!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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elliespeach · 1 year

Text

you belong to me

pining!ellie x reader

synopsis: ellie’s crush seems to spiral out of control one day on patrol and now she’s left to face the consequences.

word count: 2900+

warnings: 18+ sexually explicit descriptions, drugs, cursing, hopefully eventual smut, obsession, unrequited love

author note: my first ellie fic ahhhhh i wanna make this a series so i hope u guys like this

ellie paced back and forth in her small garage, her friend, dina sitting and watching painfully on the couch in front of her. dina held a blunt between her fingers and when trying to pass it off to ellie, she refused. dina scoffed, “too nervous to smoke? man, what did you do?”

ellie stopped pacing, turning to look at her friend, who, by the looks of it, was soaring above the clouds on her high. “shut up, dina,” ellie groaned thinking about it. thinking about you with your girlfriend, suddenly she did wanna smoke. how could she make you happier than i could?

“i didn’t do anything, okay?” ellie huffed, snatching the blunt from dina’s fingers and sucking on it, feeling the smoke enter her lungs and come back out.

“mhm, sure ellie,” dina spoke softly, bringing her feet up onto the couch and tucking them under her legs, reaching for the blunt which ellie handed back carefully. “that’s why you’re here instead of maria’s? why you switched to night shifts?”

ellie groaned at her friend’s lack of restraint, but she knew dina was right. maria was hosting a party for the twentieth anniversary of jackson tonight and usually ellie would attend as she actually does love this little town more than she would like to admit. but, she knew you’d be there with your girlfriend, sandra. and she knew you would want to talk about what happened. plus, seeing you with sandra really brought out a nasty side within ellie and she liked to avoid feeling the pit in her stomach when sandra held your hand.

there are times the universe is on ellie’s side and when the patrol sheet comes out, ellie and you are paired together. its bitter-sweet, being as ellie gets to spend the day with you although having to sit through your goodbyes with sandra. seeing you kiss her makes ellie’s insides twist with jealousy, a dangerous jealousy that she has to tame in order not to raise alarms. shes learned that if she just looks away into the mountains, she can pretend that it isn’t happening behind her but the thought only lingers with her for a couple minutes before you two are off on patrol and your warm, fuzzy energy melts away at ellie’s uncomfortable disposition.

“why aren’t you there then?” ellie asked defensively, leaning back on her couch.

“jesse and i are going to hang out at his place, since his parents are at the party.” dina said with a devious smile on her face and ellie couldn’t help but chuckle.

“fine, if you’re ditching me to go ‘nd get laid, i’ll go to maria’s.” knowing that no matter what, at some point she'll have to see you anyway. so ellie sighed and stood up, dina put out the blunt in the ashtray and quickly said her goodbyes before slipping out of the door. ellie went around her room for what felt like hours before finding clean enough clothes to wear and when she finally felt put together enough, she set out for maria’s.

the walk wasn’t long, through a small alley way onto the main road which snaked around jackson to the main group of houses. ellie stuffed her hands in her pocket and used the walk as a way to settle her nerves about seeing you. she kicked a rock at the thought and couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the last time you two had been assigned together.

it was a few weeks prior, the ground was still snow covered then and the chilly air swept harshly through the stables while ellie settled shimmer. ellie had been up for over two hours at that point, excited to spend her day with you, and it seemed like it would never start but it wasn’t long before she heard your angelic voice coming from the stable doors. there you are.

“my favorite patrol partner!” you gloated, shutting the door behind you and taking off your gloves. your face was frozen from the cold, nose red as ever and ellie found it adorable.

quickly shoving the thought from her mind, ellie’s lips turned up. “the one and only,” she faked a bow, tilting her head down and back up to meet your gaze. “i got the breakfast you like from sal’s, hope you didn’t eat already.”

“and that's why you’re my favorite,” you smiled graciously at her, accepting the food from her hands. “our usual route today, right?”

“yup,” ellie started, not being able to come up with more to say, although being desperate to continue the conversation. she started to lead shimmer out of her stable, you noticing this go to your horse’s stable but find it empty.

“hey, where’s poppy?” you turned to ask malcolm, the stable keeper. ellie stopped shimmer and turned around to see.

“she got sick last night so she’s not working today,” malcolm said from the small booth in the corner. and before you could ask, he continued, “we ain’t got no other horses, sorry honey. the rest of ‘em are either workin’ or sick.”

“oh, shit. ” was all that came out of your mouth and you glanced at ellie who was already looking at you.

“you can ride with me,” ellie said with a smile. “just hold on tight cus’ shimmer likes to bounce.”

ellie rejoiced in the fact that your horse was sick, she could barely tell herself that that wasn’t right to think about because when you jumped on shimmer and wrapped your arms around her waist, her body felt disconnected. she felt a tinge in her stomach whenever you would squeeze her tighter on bigger jumps, or even when shimmer sped up a bit.

but ellie truly lost all motor functions when she felt you rest your head against her back. and in that moment she let herself think about you being hers. kissing you after a long day, kissing you in the morning, kissing you just because. being able to hold your soft hands and tell you how much she cared about you, she thought about how good it felt to be held by you and prayed to every god in the universe that it would last forever.

“sandra didn’t come say bye this morning,” ellie said matter-of-factly, and ever so slightly leaned her back into you. ellie didn’t say anything else because how could she not come say goodbye? ellie knew she would do anything for you, and that fact that your girlfriend couldn’t be bothered made her blood boil. you deserved better, you belong with me.

“yeah,” you exhaled deeply. “i don’t know why, she said she would.” she could feel your head tilt towards the ground, though still resting on her back. you watched as the fresh fallen snow was thrown about by shimmers hooves, and ellie scoffed to herself.

“even maria came to say goodbye to tommy, and they’ve been fighting like rabid wolves.” she recalled, fiddling with her gloves. she knew she shouldn’t have said that, she should’ve comforted you, reassured you. but when it came to you, she couldn’t help herself. she just wanted to shake you, scream in your face that sandra doesn’t deserve you, or your kindness. ellie knew she could make you happier, and it killed her that you didn’t see that.

“i mean, it is a routine patrol. maybe she figured she knew i would come back…” you trailed off, still focused on the blanket of snow beneath you.

“not everyone does,” was all ellie could say, and it was true. jackson has lost over ten good patrol’s in the last couple of months. the winter has been hard, the days are short and if you’re caught in the cold with no light to guide you back, you’re kinda fucked. and you knew this, so did sandra and she still neglected to wish you good luck. ellie bit her lip from pronouncing profanities about her knowing it would just make you feel worse.

“i guess you’re right.” you replied, looking up into the trees, you tightened your grip on ellie and felt her shuffle under your arms as if to get more comfortable. but all ellie was thinking about was getting closer to you, smelling your hair that somehow always reminded her of the first week of spring. everything springing to life, the smell of fresh flowers and a running stream. it was ellie’s favorite season, and you reminded her of that everyday.

she wanted to tell you right then and there, confess her feelings and hold your face as you two kissed, but she didn’t get the chance because before she could pluck up the nerve, your head was lifted off her back, pulling ellie out of her imagination. “ellie, look!” you pointed into the trees beyond the path.

ellie looked over, expecting to see infected making its way towards the two of you and she instinctively reached for her knife. but when she didn’t see any, she turned back to you, eyes focused on a spot in the woods. “wha-?” ellie tried to follow your gaze into the snowy trees when you jumped off the back of shimmer and sprinted into the woods. she called out your name but you were already deep in the trees. “fuck.” ellie breathed out, swinging her leg over shimmer’s back and plunging into the snow beneath the horse.

she called out your name again, seeing your hair floss between the trees and she wondered how the hell you even saw what you did in all of the snow. ellie finally caught up to you with a short sprint, coming up behind you and you began to turn around but while slowing down from the sprint, ellie’s foot got caught on a buried tree root.

she fell into you hard, knocking you down into the cold snow. you immediately started to laugh but ellie’s breathing was already heightened from running and now she was inches from your beautiful face, she found herself staring at your lips. she moved her eyes to yours and saw you looking back at her and for a moment, everything else didn’t matter. ellie forgot you were taken by someone else, and to be honest so did you. you let the moment linger for another second before turning your head, motioning ellie to look in that direction.

feeling a twinge of regret, she glanced over and saw what you had been so excited about. sprouting out through the snow, against all odds was a bright pink tulip, it had bloomed and was swaying gently in the chilly breeze. ellie let out a small laugh, shaking her head and resting it on your chest before looking back up at you. “really?” she asked.

“a flower in the snow? you’re telling me that doesn’t excite you?”

you excite me, she thought. and she let her thoughts take over, being so close to you and those lips she didn’t even think about the consequences before leaning down to meet her lips to yours. her stomach was doing flips and for a moment she felt euphoric, she had just reached your lips, just barely grazed them before you pulled your head back into the snow. “ellie, i can’t.” you whispered to her, as if it was a secret.

ellie reached a hand up and held your face in her hand, her face still inches from yours. her eyes were locked into yours and you could see the sprinkle of gold that laced her green eyes. ellie’s eyes were blazing, you made her crazy, and this feeling was too good, felt too good to just let it diminish away. she wanted you to be hers, and in this moment you did feel like hers. “you can.” ellie whispered back.

you bit your lower lip, considering her advances. you had a feeling for a while that ellie was interested in you and before sandra, you had even thought about it. but ellie never made it obvious, it wasn’t until she saw you, arm and arm with sandra, that her feelings were exposed, whether ellie knew it or not. “ellie,” you started, unsure whether or not to pull away again, but this time you didn’t.

she kissed you fiercely, and you thought about how long she’s probably wanted to do this by the way she is pressing her body against yours. her hand stayed planted on your cheek, and her free hand was gliding along your body, tracing your hips and lower back. her cold hands making goosebumps on your skin, even through your clothes.

giving in, you wrapped your arms around her neck and for a second you completely forgot about sandra. the feeling of ellie’s hands on you made your stomach feel warm and fuzzy, and while she pressed her body against yours, you pressed back resulting in a feeling you’ve never had with your actual girlfriend. you unintentionally let out a quiet moan into ellie’s mouth and this sends her into overdrive.

she brings her knee up between your legs, separating them in the process. she pressed hard against your core and you leaned into it, slowly thrusting against her knee. through all of the clothes you had on, you were throbbing at her touch. ellie, noticing you barely being able to kiss her back, pushed her knee up harder into you while you thrusted into her. a wave of euphoria washed over you and you tilted your head back, revealing your neck to a bloodthirsty ellie. without missing a beat, ellie sunk her head into your neck, planting kisses along your jaw and working her way down to suck on your neck, wanting to mark you as hers.

ellie was nearly biting your neck before you realized you can’t have anything showing on your neck. which made you pull your arms away from her, covering your mouth with your hand. ellie lurched back, realizing what she had done, what you both had done.

you two didn’t speak the entire rest of the patrol, you did your work in silence and went on about your days. ellie wishes she could regret doing it, she missed you more than anything but she had been daydreaming about something like that for months, how could she regret something that made her feel so good? the only regret she had was how she acted afterwards, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that it felt good. you were in a relationship, you two were friends and it had to stay that way.

coming up on maria’s house, ellie could hear the distance chatter from the party and felt her hands grow clammy from nerves. she was about to open the front door when she heard small sobs coming from the side of the house. being curious, and wanting to prolong her appearance at this party she investigated the source of the crying.

around the porch, sitting against the chipped paint from the house was you, clutching your legs to your chest and burying your face in them. ellie’s eyes widen and she rushes to you, forgetting everything that has happened, desperate to help. “hey, hey,” she said softly, kneeling down beside you. “whats wrong?”

you raised your head from your knees, tears streamed down your face and splattered onto your light blue dress. ellie felt her chest tighten at seeing you this way, already fuming at whoever is responsible. “its stupid.” you sniffled.

softening her gaze, ellie sat down in front of you and put a hand on your arm. “try me.”

you let out a deep sigh, steading your shaky breath, you played with your fingers trying to ignore how warm ellie’s hand felt. “sandra broke up with me,” you started, a hint of anger in your voice. “she said she doesn’t know if she actually likes girls.”

you felt ellie’s eye’s burning into you and you reached up to wipe your tears away. “that’s not stupid.” ellie rubbed your arm, cursing herself for not being better at comforting you. it was hard since she was basically jumping up and down on the inside, but the sight of you so disheveled grounded her.

and before ellie could say more, you started to word vomit in-between sobs, “sandra has been pulling back from me for weeks and on top of that you were avoiding me. i tried to get on rotation with you but maria said you switched to night patrol and i just felt like you hated me for what happened. i wanted to come talk to you but i really didn’t know what to say, i just know i don’t want it to be weird with you, ellie. i don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid m–”

“hey, i know, i’m so sorry, okay? i should have never kissed you, and it’s not your fault i was distant,” ellie cooed, and you took comfort in her words. before ellie could think, she regrettably said, “let’s just completely forget about it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” but ellie wasn’t going to forget about the way you moaned into her mouth, desperate for more of her touch, more of her.

no, just friends.

you sniffled again, finally feeling calm after your breakdown. “you got any weed?” you asked, finally cracking a smile, needing a pick-me-up.

“‘course i do, c’mon.” ellie stood up and reached her hand out to pull you up. you accepted this and let the party drown out behind the two of you as you made your way back to ellie’s.

part two

#ellie williams #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan ficition #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #tlou2 #tlou smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams imagines #ellie williams x female reader

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boliv-jenta · 1 month

Text

Joel Miller x Jackson Dr reader

Fluffy little one shot.

Warnings: Depictions of small surgery. Mentions of cancer. Drug use.

Carpe Diem

The days at Jackson's clinic were never boring. The community ran pretty smoothly but when you have that many people living and working together things will happen. Accidents, fights, STDs, common bugs spreading like wildfire. Children are still children even post-apocalypse. They still eat what they shouldn't and shove things up their noses. Experimental teens will eat things they shouldn't and shove things where they shouldn't.

Between being an inner city ER doctor before the outbreak and Jackson’s small town vibes, you'd seen pretty much everything. Not much surprised you. Until the night, you were getting ready to go home and came face to board chest with Joel Miller.

Office hours were over, the day had been pretty quiet. A mildly sprained ankle. A pre-natal check up. There hadn't been much tidying to do. After spending the previous day helping repair some homes that took the brunt of a summer storm, you were looking forward to a hot bath to soothe your aches. The thought of the warm water loosening you up, held your attention as you moved around, locking up on auto pilot. Finally moving to the front door you open it just in time to have Joel shoved at you down the few steps by Ellie who called back “Be good!” as she ran off.

“Sorry.” Joel's hands ghost your sides as you right yourself from the impact.

“What was that about?!” You laugh still watching as Ellie disappears down main street.

“Er…I have something I've been meaning to get checked out. Ellie found out and wanted me to come.” Joel took note of your backpack on your shoulder. “But I can see that you're ready to leave. I'll swing by another day.”

“No, you will not.” your authoritative tone startles Joel. “I've known plenty of men like you. That will avoid the doctors at all costs and say they are ‘fine’ even when they are hurting. By some miracle you are at my door so you will go inside and be treated, Mr Miller.”

Joel's hands rise with his palms up in surrender.

“Yes, Doctor.” He gives you a smile as he steps into the hallway.

The smile that tugs at your own lips is hidden from him as he makes his way to your office. Even if he doesn't seek treatment for himself, Ellie is no stranger to your office.

“So what can I help you with?” You slip into doctor mode after taking a minute to admire how Joel fills out the seat in front of you.

“Er, I have this lump…” Joel starts from under his thick lashes as he looks intently at your desk. “...I've had it a while.”

“How long is a while?” You query.

“About six months.” Joel admits sheepishly. “It's only been sore for like a week.” He adds in a weak attempt at a defence.

“Alright.” You try to keep the annoyance out of your tone. “Where is it?”

Joel seems relieved that you haven't landed into him more. “It's on my back.”

“I'll close the curtain to give you a moment to remove your shirt and lay face down on the bed.” Joel knows there's no room for argument so he makes his way over.

With the curtains closed, you begin to wash up. While you scrub your hands you can help but notice Joel's silhouette in the mirror over the sink. His thick arms bend and flex as he removes his shirt and t-shirt.

Joel had always caught your eye and the two nurses who worked with you were convinced that you'd caught his. Joel was well respected around the community. He was dependable and selfless with his time. He didn't always make the effort with small talk but there was a lot going on under his gruff looking exterior once he let you in. Since he held a conversation with you quite often, that was enough evidence for your co-workers to be convinced that Joel was infatuated with you.

“Are you decent?” You call out, approaching the curtain.

“As I'll ever be.” Joel calls back.

Joel's sense of humour always brings a smile to your face. Even the dad jokes he teases Ellie with, brighten your day.

“Let's see now. No redness. Am I alright to touch you?” You ask, your hands ready and waiting for Joel's permission.

“Yea..yes.” Joel clears his throat and shifts a little on the bed.

Another smile finds its way onto your lips as you wonder if Joel is a little nervous around you in the same way you are around him. Like how you become more self conscious as you want him to see the best version of you.

“Mmmm….uh-huh…okay. You should have come sooner…” It may not be very professional but you wanted to give Joel a little scare. He tried to stutter out ‘why’ before you continued. “...this could have been something bad. Luckily for you it's just a cyst. I can remove it and it will heal up nicely if I get it all.”

Joel's broad shoulders rise and fall as he sighs in relief, the action sends a ripple of flexing down the muscles of his and your hands long to follow them. “Thank you, Doc.”

“Don't thank me just yet. We don't have any local at the moment. I have something to take the edge off but it's…erm…experimental at best.” The best words to describe your new ‘treatment’ escape you.

“Well, what is it?” Joel had turned to face you now. His toned, tan chest is on display with a sprinkling of hair and adorable freckles that you could trace with your finger tips.

“It's CBD.” You tried to sound professional.

“Pot?!” Joel huffs a laugh.

“It has many practical applications. Some patients report it has pain relieving effects when ingested.” Your tone becomes defensive.

“Ingested? You want me to eat it?” The bemused look on Joel’s face cracked through your facade.

“Well, yeah. Damn, Joel, it's not like I can just go out and grab some pain killers. And are you telling me that a man of the world such as yourself has never tried weed before?” You arch an accusatory eyebrow at him.

“Maybe once or twice back in the day.” He gives you a knowing smirk.

Ignoring the goose pimples that break out on your flesh at the sight, you push forward. “Well, then, it's up to you. Let me just cut into your back? Or let me do it while you're high?”

“I didn't peg you for a drug pusher but I'll take the second option.” His voice is decisive until he adds. “Just promise not to take any notice if I start talking all loopy.”

If Joel feels the incision, he doesn't mention it. He'd been lying almost comatose on the bed for ten minutes before you decided to go ahead.

“How are you doing, Joel?” You speak a little louder to grab his floating attention.

“M'good.” He almost slurs.

“Good. So you can't feel anything?” You follow up.

“Nope. Just your magical hands. They're so soft. You're so soft and sweet and pretty…shit! I shouldn't have said that. You are very, very pretty, though. And smart. God, and funny!” The words just run off Joel's loose tongue.

“If you think all those nice things about me, why didn't you come sooner?” With the cyst removed all you have to do is sew Joel up. Sober Joel will probably appreciate you keeping him on the topic of the matter at hand.

“Because I think all those things, I was embarrassed.” The last part is muttered against the bed.

“So you risked it becoming serious, rather than see me?” The final stitch goes in as you shake your head.

“I've had something similar before. Plus what else can a lump mean? Cancer? We ain't exactly equipped to cure that.” The laugh he lets out is bitter.

The fingers checking the stitches stray to stroke his skin softly. “So why did you come today?”

“Ellie.” He responded.

“Well, yeah. I saw that and I know she can be very formidable but surely…”

Joel cuts you off. “No, not like that. If it was something bad, even if we couldn't stop it from…maybe we could have slowed it and I could have gotten more time with her.”

The second the words leave Joel's mouth, your professionalism leaves with them. Your hand lays fully against his bare back. “Joel…that's…beautiful. Ellie is lucky to have found you.”

Shifting to sit up Joel catches your hand as you pull it back. “Thanks, Doc. Maybe now that I know I have more time, you might let me spend some of it with you?”

Despite your best efforts you were sure that your thoughts were clear on your face. “I'll need to check those stitches in a couple of days. If you still think I'm pretty when you aren't high as a kite, we'll talk then.”

“It's a date.” Joel says with a lopsided smile.

“No, it's an appointment!” You chide him.

“Do you make house calls?” Those deep brown eyes burn whiskey gold in the setting sun as they widen into the most pleading puppy dog eyes.

“I think I can in this case.” You give him a smile before heading off to get dressings for his wound.

A few days later, you climb the steps of Joel's porch. The door swings open and Ellie shoots out, again calling out ‘Be good!’ behind her. The scent of honey and tea brewing flows on the wind from the open door. Joel soon fills the gap with his wide frame a second later.

“Come in, Doc. You hungry?” He throws over his shoulder as he leads the way to the dining table, already set up with sandwiches and a freshly made cake.

“What's all this?” Your light laughter joins the honey on the breeze.

“I told you, it's a date.” Joel smiles confidently. “The only thing is that I forgot to put the iced tea on. So we've got some time to kill while it cools.” Joel steps closer keeping his hands on his hips.

“How do you suggest that we pass the time?” It’s your turn to step closer, your hands find your way to the soft flannel on Joel's chest.

“I got a couple of ideas.” Joel's large hands smooth around your waist.

“Are you always this forward, Mr Miller?” Joel's lips are temptingly close to yours as you speak.

Joel obviously notices too as his eyes flicker downwards. “I had a health scare recently. It inspired me to seize the day.”

The air between you is charged with your teasing banter and gentle touches. “Really? What does your physician think of that?”

Joel moves closer still. “From the way they had their hands on my last me I saw them, I think they'd approve.” Once the words are out, his lips are on yours.

The tea is more than cooled by the time you and Joel finish making out on the sofa like teenagers.

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#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller fluff

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f3mme-f4tale · 3 months

Text

☾ bound by bloodshed ☾

part three

⇠part two word count: 6.2k potential warnings: needles, stitches, sexual content (mdni pls!), brief sub!ellie, mild odaxelagnia, explicit language, praise kink, cunnalingus (r recieving), fingering (r & e recieving) pairing: seattle!ellie x female reader ☾ mood board authors note: the middle section is a flashback that takes place right before part one, which is indicated by italics. also, i don't really write smut so pls keep that in mind lmao. also this dynamic is literally i don't smoke by mitski

FREE FREE PALESTINE!

It’s a few hours later when the sun is deep below the horizon and you’re just under fifty miles east of Jackson. You’ve made residence for the night inside what appears to be remnants of an office building. Ellie tries to stay still as you unwrap the bandage, keeping her jaw clenched tight. She focuses on taking deep and even breaths, and she finds it painful whenever you apply pressure and tug on the wound.

She does her best not to make a fuss, but you can see her wincing in pain and fighting to stay still as you treat her. A bead of sweat falls down her forehead, and her skin is flushed. You know she's not having the best time right now, but she's just trying to get through it.

A sewing needle is mocking Ellie from its place on the table, your hands fumbling through your supplies for any sign of thread. Finally victorious, you use your teeth to cut the material, tongue wetting the end to make it easier to work through the needle.

"Ellie, have some water" you lecture, dumping the remaining alcohol from earlier over her arm, which causes the girl to hiss at the pain. "No use in me fixing you up if you're going to die from dehydration." Ellie shakes her head, despite the thirst that fills her throat. She's trying to be as strong as possible, not wanting to let you see how much discomfort she's in right now.

"I can keep going without water," she says, her face flushed a little bit. "It's alright." But Ellie isn't actually as sure of this as she makes it sound. She knows she probably should drink some water, but she doesn't want to admit it.

"God, you're so irritating sometimes" you mumble, grabbing your own container of water and forcing it into her hands. Ellie snickers slightly at your comment, the first little smile escaping her lips in the entire day.

She takes the water and takes a sip of it, feeling the cold, refreshing fluid slide down her throat. Ellie lets out a deep sigh of relief and takes another sip. "Thank you," she says quietly. You can tell that she really appreciates it, but she also doesn't want you to know just how exhausted and tired she's feeling.

"’Course," you smile at her. Ellie smiles back, though it barely reaches her eyes. You're just patrol partners, she reminds herself. She's not allowed to have feelings for you. And yet, she can't help but feel something. She keeps drinking from the water, not letting go of it yet. Just a few more sips, she promises herself.

You’re clueless to the sight above you, fingers working diligently to make the process go by as smoothly as possible. You push the edge of the needle deep into Ellie’s arm, skin ripping and exiting from the other side. The yellow spongy tissue is speckled with pink, pulling as you attempt to knot the thread.

Ellie watches as your eyes stay focused, the way you hold yourself as you line the tip of the needle to the edge of the opening of the wound. The sight of you – hands covered in her blood and knees between her legs – has her so turned on that she has to dig her nails into her palm, fingers turning white at the pressure. “Am I making you feel sick?” She prods, pushing your leg with her knee.

You scoff at her, using some of your water to attempt to clean off the blood that has stained your fingertips, shaking your head at her insinuation. Admitally, you’re attracted to broken people.

“Wanna see something?” Ellie asks sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as you wipe your hands on your pants, handing her a clean bandage to place on her arm. You rarely see her like this, your interest immediately piqued.

“Uh, sure? As long as you’re not planning on flashing me or something,” you jest, shoving your shoulder against hers. She doesn’t respond to this, instead throwing her bag in her lap and dumping out its contents.

Curious, you lean in closer, your eyes widening as you realize what she's holding – a Walkman. It's a relic from a bygone era, something that of course Ellie would have. "Where’d you get that?" you ask, unable to hide your surprise. Ellie's grin widens, a hint of pride in her expression.

"I had it when I was living in the Boston QZ, before Joel and I came out here," she explains. "It broke a few years ago and finally, after some tinkering, I managed to get it working again." She slides a tape in, presses a button, and the familiar click of the cassette tape being engaged fills the air. A moment later, the tinny sound of music pours forth from the worn headphones, the melody faint.

Soft acoustic guitar chords accompanied with a man’s voice enters your ear and you realize you almost forgot what music sounded like. You immediately sigh at the welcomed calm that overtakes you.

"Do you mind if I just rest for a few minutes?" she asks, sounding a little exhausted. "I know we have to move soon, but just for a few minutes so I can..."

"We got the whole night here, Els," you whisper, taking the walkman from her. She smiles softly as she leans her head against your shoulder, finding herself comfortable in your presence. She glances at you, noting the weariness in your eyes but also the kindness and empathy in your expression.

Despite all this, she can't help but take notice of how close you two are right now. Her head resting on your shoulder. Her body pressed up against yours. Just friends just friends she chants, but she can't deny how comfortable she feels with you right now.

She closes her eyes, attempting to let sleep wash over her slowly. Your heart aches for her. This closeness is something you’ve ached for these past few weeks. You have to remind yourself that she doesn't want you, no matter how much you long for her. "Oh, Ellie,” you mumble, just above a whisper.

"Hmm?" Ellie hums, her eyes still closed.

She's half-asleep now, and the weariness is slowly creeping up on her. But she can hear your voice so faintly, and she wants to listen. She adjusts her position slightly, wanting to lean against you completely. She can't deny it – being this close to you is addicting.

"What is it?" she asks quietly. "Did you say something?"

"O-oh, no sorry. Just um, thinking is all," you sigh. "Go back to sleep." Her headache is starting to get worse again. But she doesn't seem to care much. She can't stay awake much longer. She tries to ignore her fatigue and discomfort and leans into you further, wanting only to rest, just for a few minutes.

Her eyes are shut tightly, but she hopes to hear you again before she falls asleep. Without even thinking about it, she curls herself onto you and wraps her arm around you.

You lean your head against hers, clutching the water bottle in your hands. Your eyes wander over to the door, suddenly aware of the fact that just anyone can barge in. You force myself to stay awake – despite the pain. You have to protect her. As Ellie sleeps, you can feel the pain in your side worsen.

You can feel her heartbeat through her chest, and you are both so close that you can feel her breathing on your face. You let her engulf you, afraid that you’ll never experience this closeness again. Your eyes suddenly feel very heavy, and it was no use; not when the exhaustion and the warmth of Ellie were so convincing.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

The echoes of multiple string instruments echoed throughout the hall, a few folding tables lining one end of the large room. Orange fluorescent bulbs were string to the rafters, the quaint scent of roasted meat and the soft humming of the generators making your chest swell.

Pew bunches have been pushed to the back and against the wall, allowing for a group of townsfolk to congregate in the middle and dance along to the folk music playing from the speakers. You’re humming along to Little Sadie by Crooked Still as you watch Dina maneuver across the dance floor with another gentleman, who she is clearly showing off in an attempt to garner attention from her ex-boyfriend – to which you roll your eyes at. You make a bet with Ellie that they’ll be back together in two weeks, as you both laugh at Jesse’s failed attempts to not drool at the sight of her.

So when Dina makes her way towards the three of you, you’re caught off guard when she takes Ellie’s glass of whiskey and downs it, proceeding to pull the woman towards the middle of the room. As you hear Ellie call Dina a dick in response to her mocking the man, you feel a twinge of jealousy in your gut. You’re aware of Ellie’s obvious crush on her best friend, as is half of the town, Joel included. Yet, that doesn’t help the gnawing bitterness that forces its way up your spine and through your fingertips.

"Looks like Dina's pulling out all the stops tonight," Jesse remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, she's really laying it on thick," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant. You force a smile in response, but inside, your heart feels heavy. You've known Ellie for years, and though you've never admitted it aloud, you've harbored feelings for her that run deeper than friendship. But seeing her gaze fixed on Dina, the way her eyes light up when they're together, it's a painful reminder that you may never be more than just a friend to her. You can't shake the feeling of being left out, of watching from the sidelines as Ellie's attention is drawn elsewhere.

Jesse nudged you, breaking your reverie. "Hey, you alright there?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You forced another smile, nodding. "Yeah, just enjoying the music," you replied, though the words felt hollow even to your own ears.

But Jesse knew you well enough to see through the facade. He gave you a sympathetic look before turning his attention back to the dance floor. "You know, sometimes it's okay to admit when things aren't okay," he said softly.

His words struck a chord within you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his understanding. "Thanks, Jesse," you murmured, appreciating his silent support. Despite this, loneliness blankets you, wrapping you in.

You find yourself retreating into the background, music and laughter of the evening fading into the distance as you wallow in your self-pity. And then, unexpectedly, Ellie breaks away from Dina and makes her way over to where you're standing, her expression soft with concern.

"Hey," she says softly, reaching out to touch your arm. "Are you okay?"

You force a smile, though it feels brittle and fragile. "Yeah, just... lost in thought," you reply, unable to meet her gaze. But Ellie isn't fooled by your facade. She studies you for a moment, her eyes searching yours for answers. And then, with a sigh, she takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. She nudges your shoulder with her own, raising her own glass in salut and you both take a sip.

“‘M just feeling sorry for myself and whatnot,” you mutter, awkwardly switching the weight on your feet.

Ellie's expression softens, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "I get it," she says quietly. "But you can't keep wallowing in self-pity."

Her words hit you like a slap in the face, the sting of truth cutting through the haze of your emotions. "Easy for you to say," you shoot back, your tone sharper than intended. "You're the one who's always the center of attention, while the rest of us are left picking up the pieces."

Ellie's brows furrow in surprise at your outburst, her expression shifting from concern to frustration. "I'm just trying to help," she retorts, her voice tinged with annoyance. "But if you'd rather stew in your own misery, be my guest."

The words hang heavy in the air between you, tension crackling like lightning. You both know that this argument runs deeper than just tonight's events; it's the culmination of years of pent-up frustration and unspoken resentment.

"I don't need your help," you seethe, the bitterness in your voice palpable. "I've been fine on my own this whole time. I don't need you or anyone else telling me what to do."

Ellie's features harden, the hurt flashing in her eyes like a spark igniting a fire. "Fine," she snaps back, her voice sharp with anger. "If that's how you want it, then maybe you're right. Maybe you don't need me at all."

The words hit you like a dagger to the heart, the realization of what you've said sinking in like a heavy weight. But before you can apologize, Ellie turns on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing alone in the midst of the chaos. You can feel eyes on you, a few townspeople whispering to each other. You fold in on yourself, slouching your shoulders and hands death-gripping your glass.

And as the echoes of the argument fade into the distance, you're left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret, knowing that you've let your anger drive away the one person who's always been there for you, the night before you’re both assigned to be on patrol together.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

The two of you sleep beside each other comfortably in the ruined building, not a care in the world, at least for the moment. It's a few hours later when you blink away the sleep, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. You find yourself stirring awake in the early hours of the morning. Your body is stiff from sitting so still all night, and you can feel the effects of the injury on your side.

You can feel Ellie sleeping next to you, warm and cozy. She's got her arm wrapped around you, her head nuzzled against your shoulder. Silently, you scold yourself for falling asleep. You see the light of the early morning beginning to shine through the broken window of the building and feel a strange comfort in knowing that the two of you are in safety together with the sun slowly peering in.

As you carefully unwrap yourself from Ellie, you make sure not to wake her. You silently exit the room and find a closet down the hall. It's picked through – crumbs from the last residents. A half empty bottle of gin sits on one of the shelves, practically calling your name. "Eh, it's 5 o'clock somewhere," you joke to yourself.

The sound of a door opening quickly penetrates Ellie's consciousness. She stirs away and sits up in the darkness of the room, her eyes still closed. Her head is pounding. She can feel the exhaustion and pain coming back now.

Her voice is still soft and sleepy when she glances towards the door. "Hello?" she whispers quietly. She can hear you rummaging around in the hallway.

You turn around, not expecting Ellie to be in the doorway. "I’m sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you defend, holding up the alcohol. "I found a friend." Ellie rubs her eyes, still trying to wake up.

"It's okay," she says. She's resting herself against the frame of the door, the headache coming back in all its glory. "A friend, huh?" She lets out a small, weary chuckle. "Do you mind sharing?"

You let out a long exhale, still a little drowsy and nod your head. "What time is it? I'm pretty tired still, to be honest." Ellie looks over at you, and you can see she's still half-asleep.

"No clue, almost dawn maybe?" you say, sitting down on a beat up mattress that is pushed against a couch, a large cut in the faux leather cushion exposing the filling. She wobbles over to you and not so gracefully joins you. "Here you go, m’lady," you joke, handing her the bottle of gin. Ellie smiles, snatches the alcohol and takes a small sip.

"I don't think dawn is the right time to be drinking," she says jokingly, before taking another sip. She lets out a long sigh, the alcohol slowly relaxing her muscles and numbing the sharp pains in her head. "That's a lot better," she says softly. She glances at you, trying to hold it together. She knows she's being weak and pathetic, but the exhaustion is getting to her. "I'm so, so tired."

"You don't have to stay awake with me, I'm a big girl. I can drink by myself." Ellie lets out a quick laugh and takes another sip of the alcohol.

"Well, I am thirsty," she teases, smiling.

She glances at you and smiles again, but you can also see the exhaustion setting in. Her eyes are slowly closing, and the room is beginning to spin. Ellie yawns, but manages to stay awake.

"Up to you, princess," you jest, letting your hair down. You take the bottle from her and take a sip, letting the liquid numb the pain. "If you're up to it, we can play a game to pass some time?"

"Oh, a game huh?" Ellie's eyes are half-closed now. She's trying to fight it, but she can feel herself relaxing. “I'm up for it," she says despite a yawn escaping her. You shake your head and roll your eyes, typical. "What kind of game we talking?" She gives you a little wink.

"Hmm, how about never have I ever?" you ask, taking another sip, frowning when you realize how little alcohol there is left in the bottle. Ellie's eyes sparkle as she lets out a small laugh.

"Really?” she quips, raising her eyebrows as if to say are we thirteen? “Haven't played that in a while," she says, but smiles at you and shrugs. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts and then looks back at you. "Okay, let's play."

You move your body so you’re sitting across from one another on the mattress, bottle of gin in between. "Ok, never have I ever…," you trail off, thinking. "Gone skinny dipping." Ellie's eyes widen when you say this, and she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh, I definitely have," Ellie replies, almost instantly. "I was, like, sixteen," she says. "Me and my buddies just decided to go for a swim in the lake at night." She takes another sip of the gin and looks you in the eye, smiling curiously.

"My turn, now," she says, trying to change the subject. "Never have I ever ... uh, eaten an entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting."

"Oh, c'mon." You take the bottle and take a swig, practically downing the remaining liquid. "I told you that in confidence,” you sigh, shaking your head. "Ok.. never have I ever.. kissed someone I shouldn't have." As you take a sip of the alcohol, Ellie once again raises an eyebrow at you.

"Someone you shouldn't have, huh?" she asks with a grin. She's not the one to judge, that's for sure. "Can't say I have," she replies with a small smirk. "So, you've got a juicy story behind that, eh?"

"Not really, it's kind of pathetic really. I'm surprised Jesse hasn't told you." you snicker, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I had a crush on him when I was younger, before he and Dina got together, but I knew she liked him. Someone dared me to kiss him – so I did,” you continue, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Needless to say, he did not feel the same way." Ellie chuckles quietly as you let out a groan of disappointment.

"Sounds like you were younger and more foolish, if I'm being honest," she teases. "Which... I mean, I really don't think I can talk – I'm not the smartest person, or the wisest." Ellie is not planning on drinking much more, but she's finding the pain in her head a little more bearable now.

"Okay, my turn," she says, and she's already got a good idea of what she wants to ask.

"What's your question?"

"Never have I ever ..." Ellie pauses and glances at you, but you can tell the alcohol has made her a little more bold. "Never have I ever ... uh, slept with a girl before."

You take the bottle from her and finish the dingy bottle of gin, letting her stare at your lips. "Just because we haven’t slept together doesn't mean I haven't had some fun before," you say slyly. Ellie doesn't look away, she just keeps looking at your lips and your face. Something about you just makes her smile, and the alcohol isn't helping.

"Well. What about you? Have you ever slept with a girl before?" You ask, voice jumping down to a whisper. You’re suddenly a lot closer to her than you realize. Ellie doesn't say anything, but you can tell the question makes her flustered even more. She takes a moment to think as she glances towards your lips yet again.

"Yes," she replies quietly, finally. "I have." She looks at you again, but this time, she doesn't look away. She's staring at your eyes, and her face is still a warm shade of pink.

"Really? Was it good?" you ask, voice low.

"Good?" Ellie replies quietly. “Hmm, you’d like to know wouldn’t you?” she pesters, eyes dropping down back towards your lips.

"Yeah," you reply quietly. "I would."

"Keep it up and I might just have to kiss you," she says just above a whisper, dangerously close. You’re staring into her eyes, the weight of the world fading away.

Your lips meet in a gentle, tentative kiss, the taste of gin lingering on her tongue. It's a moment filled with a mix of nervousness and desire, a forbidden sweetness that neither of you can resist. As your lips part, Ellie's heart races, her mind buzzing with a million thoughts and emotions.

But then reality crashes down upon her like a wave. Ellie pulls back abruptly, her eyes widening with shock and regret. "I'm sorry," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have—"

But before she can finish her sentence, you silence her with another kiss, this one more urgent, more passionate. Your hands cup her face gently, your fingers tracing the curve of her jawline as you deepen the kiss.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as you lose yourselves in each other, the world around you two fading into the background. But eventually, you break apart again, breaths coming in ragged gasps as you stare into each other's eyes.

"I'm not sorry," you murmur, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and defiance. "I've been thinking about kissing you since Jackson."

Ellie's heart skips a beat at your words, her chest tightening with emotion. "Me too," she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as you sit there in the dim light of the abandoned building, your hands intertwined and hearts racing, both knowing that nothing will ever be the same again. You may have started as just friends, but now you’ve crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. But for now, you push aside the doubts and fears, allowing yourselves to simply be in each other's arms, cherishing this stolen moment of intimacy and connection.

Plus, you thought, you’ve been dying to know how soft her lips were.

“God…” you mumble against her lips. “You taste so..." you begin but are unable to finish as she swallows the rest of your sentence, a flush spreading across your cheeks. And then you’re pulling your face away again, pushing her against the front of the couch and moving to straddle her. Her arms go to hold your waist, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. You’re taking in the way her hair frames her face and bunches in the back, the strong muscle of her stomach peaking out from under her thin top.

You can feel her gaze burning into you. "Oh really?" she asks, her voice filled with amusement. She seems to see right through you and it’s almost too much to bear, your body seemingly trembling with lust.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself,” you manage to breathe.

Ellie laughs softly, "Maybe I don't want you to stop yourself.” She is practically devouring you with her eyes and you can’t stand it.

Ellie moves in closer, pushing her knees up slightly and placing a supportive hand on your ass and the other on the small of your back. She smiles softly, "I mean, that is the idea after all," she murmurs against your neck, feeling confident as she slowly makes her way back up.

You weren’t that close of friends anyways.

Your hands are cupping her cheeks, fingers brushing against the freckles that dance across her face. You place a tentative finger on her lower lip, opening her mouth immediately to encase your thumb. She is staring at you from beneath her lashes and you can feel your thighs tighten at this.

The hand on your ass moves to your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you ached for her touch. Your breath hitched, Ellie smirking with a finger still in her mouth, tongue lapping at the skin. Despite being situated below you, she was in control. With no hesitation, she slid her cool fingers underneath the hem of your shirt.

Sensing her want, your hands grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. Ellie noticed how your skin was soft, warm to the touch. An oval gold locket rests between your breasts, ain't it warming you, the world going up in flames? The sheer material covering your chest left little to the imagination, Ellie practically drooling at the sight; no going back now. Unable to keep her eyes off of you, her nimble fingers trace your lower stomach, drawing out a soft whimper from deep inside your abdomen.

Her fingers graze the skin under your breasts, breath hitching. She bites your fingers softly, which are caressing her face. The action has you involuntarily bucking your hips against hers, egging her on further. You are torn between wanting to run and giving yourself over fully.

Ellie’s eyes sparkle with sick laughter as she suddenly is picking up the weight of your body to push you down into the mattress and position herself above you, her legs trapped between yours. Her strength and confidence are both evident in the way she holds herself. You can't help but feel a bit of guilt when you stare at her, her body so close and yet so far. She takes in the sight of you below her, the way your hair is spread out beneath you.

You want to let go, to let all of your inhibitions go as she pulls you deeper and deeper into the heat of the moment. She pauses for a moment as she stares straight at you with those bright green eyes, her expression unreadable. You wish she would press her chest against yours, a hot and hungry mix of skin and sinew.

You shudder again as her fingers continue their gentle trail, this time trailing downwards from your abdomen. You feel your cheeks heat as a shiver runs through you at the subtle change in her touch. She continues to trace her fingers across the curves of your stomach, her touch still light but teasing. Her fingers come to a halt again just below your stomach, and you feel the familiar tug in your abdomen.

She lowers her head as her weight is supported by her right forearm, which is resting above your head, while your hands get lost in her hair. Her lips leave soft kisses along your neck and down to just above your breasts, her left hand palming your exposed side, fingers dangerously close to your pants.

She bites your skin, tongue soothing it afterwards. Your hands instinctively tug at her brunette locks, forcing a moan out of the woman above you. She is marking your chest, left hand snaking under your back to find the clasp.

“This ok?” she mumbles, words slurring against the heat of your skin as she is kissing up your neck. You nod eagerly, but Ellie isn’t satisfied. “Use your words, princess.”

“Yes,” you croak out, one of your hands leaving the now tangled mess of her hair to run down the front of her. You help her out of her shirt, pulling her back down by her belt loops, an action that has Ellie soaked.

You’re smiling as you catch her lips in a passionate kiss, both hands fumbling with the button on her jeans. She’s laughing at your keenness. You didn’t care, you just wanted her. You struggle to slide the tight jeans down her legs, getting increasingly frustrated as Ellie’s hands explore your back. “Fuck,” you complain, pulling away from her mouth, irritated at her stupidly attractive half-undressed thighs.

She shakes her head at your foolishness, thoroughly enjoying how worked up you’re getting. She sits back so she’s sitting on her heels, pulling your own pants down agonizingly slowly, wanting to drink all of you in.

She collects your fully discarded jeans and stands to finish taking hers off. A pair of boxers are fitted tightly against her thighs – because of course they are. She’s staring down at you, something animalistic taking over her eyes. You suddenly feel very exposed, dressed in only your undergarments. However, you hold her gaze, not wanting her to realize just how anxious you are. You lean forward on your elbows, chest fully exposed. Ellie’s eyes have become saucers, salivating at the shape of you.

“Are you going to stand there staring or are you going to fuck me already?” You bite, opening your legs ever so slightly, her gaze dropping down to the space between your thighs. And that’s all it takes for Ellie to drop down to her knees, pull your body forward by your waist, and swing your legs over her shoulders. You’re a bit taken aback by the speed of her actions – I guess she has been with other women. She’s careful to avoid the injury on your side, peppering small kisses around the surrounding area.

She lowers her mouth to the fabric of your underwear, tongue running a stripe between you. You tremble at the gesture, shutting your eyes.

“Look at me sweetheart,” Ellie says sweetly, voice laced with honey, to which you oblige. “So wet and warm for me, hmm?” She's praising, her voice against your heat sending you into a frenzy.

Her tongue is back between your thighs and you're bucking your hips up to reach her face, not wanting a barrier between you two. With one hand supporting her weight, she uses the other to push the garment aside, burying her nose deep into you. Her hands are squeezing your hips, her thumbs no doubt leaving bruises.

Her tongue moved in and out, in and out, in and out as you squeezed your thighs around her head. If you weren’t so pussy drunk, you’d be embarrassed by the sounds of her mouth against your clit. At one point she bit down on your inner thigh, hard.

You’re squirming underneath her, the sight of her staring at your sopping cunt almost too much to bear. “Ellie,” you’re whimpering, hands back tangled in her hair. With her help, you shimmy out of your underwear, now completely bare. She’s sitting back again, just staring, your doe eyes looking back up at her.

At this moment, Ellie is ravenous. She is desperately trying to show that she’s in charge, pushing down her word vomit to keep from truly expressing how she’s feeling. She peppers kisses up your legs, right hand teasing your cunt. Without warning, she slides her pointer and middle inside you, a soft gasp escaping your plump lips.

“C’mon,” she coos, free hand rubbing circles into your thigh encouragingly. “Take it for me, baby.” She slides in another long finger, stretching you out even farther. Your eyes water, the pain almost overtaking the pleasure. But then her mouth drops down again and the sight of her mouth against your pelvis almost sends you over the edge.

The sudden urge to kiss her becomes immense, your hands desperately pulling her face up. You can taste yourself on her, tongue invading her mouth. As she continues to pump her fingers, thumb rubbing vicious circles, you pathetically moan into her mouth. This gets her off even more.

With a hand placed on the small of your back, she shifts your weight so you’re on top again, her back resting against the wall. With you straddling, you ride her fingers, her mouth latched onto your chest. As she guides your hips with one hand, yours goes to wrap around her neck, her hot breath against your throat. As you bounce against her hand, her teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulders, eliciting a noise from you that could only be described as pitiful.

“Lemme,” you breathe, your hands fumbling down her body. “Wanna feel you Ellie.” Her name rolling off your fucked out mouth has Ellie nauseous, her heart hammering against her chest. And so, your free hand plunges deep into her boxers, fingers immediately covered in slick. This time she's moaning into your mouth, speeding up her own actions. She shifts her position slightly to give you better access. Your tongues meet, teasing and delighting as the air fills with the scent of each other's breath.

As you ride out your orgasms, Ellie swears she’s been to heaven and back. Your breathing quickens as your bodies press together, swept up in an ocean of heat and desire. She locked eyes with you, searching for some secret, hidden meaning in your haunting gaze. Unencumbered by the expectations of the world, like shadows merging into one, you melted into each other, losing yourselves in the intoxicating embrace of your passion.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

The next morning breaks with a crisp chill in the air, the early light filtering through the foggy windows. As you stir from sleep, you're met with a mixture of emotions; a lingering warmth from the night before intertwined with a sense of unease.

Sitting up, you glance over at Ellie, who's already awake, her expression unreadable as she stares into the distance. There's a tension in the air, palpable and heavy, like a storm brewing on the horizon. Despite the woman being knuckles deep inside you, she can hardly meet your gaze, fidgeting with the straps on her backpack.

"Morning," you say tentatively, hoping to break the silence that hangs between you. Ellie's response is terse, her gaze flicking briefly in your direction before returning to the task at hand – packing up with brisk efficiency. "Is everything okay?" you ask, unable to ignore the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach.

Ellie's jaw tightens, her hands pausing in their movements for the briefest of moments before resuming their task. "Fine," she replies curtly, her tone sharp. But you can tell it's anything but fine. The tension between you is like a live wire, crackling with unresolved emotion.

"Is this about last night?" you ask quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within you. Ellie's shoulders stiffen, her movements becoming more abrupt as she avoids meeting your gaze. "There's nothing to talk about," she retorts, her voice sharp with defensiveness.

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "That's not true, Ellie, and you know it," you say, your voice rising slightly with emotion. "We can't just pretend like nothing happened."

Ellie whirls around to face you, her eyes flashing with anger. "What do you want me to say?" she demands, her voice raw with emotion. "That it was a mistake? That I regret it?"

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sting of rejection cutting deep. "No, Ellie, that's not what I want," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to understand what this means – for us, for our relationship." You place a hand on hers, which causes her to freeze.

Ellie's expression softens, the mask of anger slipping away to reveal a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. "I don't know," she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I've never been good at this kind of thing." And then Ellie pulls her hand away, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and fear. "I don't know if I can do this," she confesses, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not sure I'm ready for... this."

Your heart sinks at her words, the weight of disappointment settling heavy in your chest. You had hoped that last night had meant something, that it had brought you closer together. But now, faced with Ellie's uncertainty, you can't help but feel a sense of doubt creeping in.

"I understand," you say, forcing a note of acceptance into your voice, even as your heart aches.

taglist: @seraphicsentences @onlinelesbo @yumimak @elliewilliamsblunt

#ellie williams #lesbian #wlw #fanfic #tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #the last of us 2

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