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dilf-luvr-4evr · 4 months ago

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Counting Down the Days to Being Yours 🕊️💍

for dearest @emerald-ranch <3 I sincerely hope this is according to what you imagined!! 👉🏼👈🏼 I’m sorry it took long! I wanted it to be perfect :( thank you for trusting me with your wonderful idea 🫶🏼🥺 this playlist was in heavy rotation during the writing process!! happy belated valentine’s 🥰

my first proper Arthur fic! (f!Reader, BIG FLUFF where everyone is alive 🤩🙏, possible inaccurate wedding rituals in 1899, church photo just for aesthetic, you can marry wherever you please :) (arthur photo by sealevils on pinterest!)

Arthur had not returned to camp for almost two weeks. It wasn’t anything new to you but usually, he’d at least let you know. Try as you might to shrug it off but you get plagued by the ugliest thoughts. God forbid! You always yelled out-loud before your imagination gets the chance to be spoken into existence.

The days had dragged on for so long that it made you self introspect. You didn’t really know why you should when he left you on very good terms. Very good terms.

Both of you made passionate, burning love the night before he left. And a little bit more upon waking up. You let him sleep in again as you attended to Miss Grimshaw, getting him a plate of stew on your way back. While waiting for him to wake, you even cleaned his guns. He said he loved you multiple times — a kiss accompanying every declaration — before getting on his horse. That is, after Miss Grimshaw had to separate y’all herself.

Impeccable timing and divine intervention; as if he knew you’d fetch him yourself if you had to wait any longer, Arthur finally came back home to you. A far cry from the last you saw him. But again, nothing new. You were just extremely relieved.

Frankly, he looked like shit. Handsome, still. But very dirty. Speckles of mud were all over his face but far more concerning, he was drenched in blood.

Adding to the list of questions you were about to ask, what you saw him untie from his Hungarian half-bred was a giant bison that’s been chopped up. Some of the people in camp that crowded around him cheered, knowing they’ll be fed good tonight.

Still, it was all so odd to you. There was no way it’d take him two weeks just to take down a bison. It would need much more than this bribing to stop you from questioning him as much as you’re glad he’s home.

Even stranger, Arthur was awfully quiet the whole time you helped him bathe by the lake. Not a single I miss you. Didn’t let you touch his grimy clothes though that’s never been a problem before.

“Arthur, are you sure you’re okay?” You asked for the thousandth time.

“I’m just fine darlin’, I promise,” he tightly smiled, still avoiding your eyes. Though this pained and scared you, you’d wait until he’s ready to open up.

He changed again when you shaved him and cut his hair; just as quiet but his eyes never wavered from your focused expression. Like he can’t believe he’s reunited with you, only looking away when you talked to him.

“Darlin’?” He’d ask.

“Yes?”

“N-nothin’,” he mumbled. This went on over and over in the silence of his tent, a contrast to the singing and eating outside. He refused to join them either despite being the star of the show.

After you were finished with cleaning him up, he held on to your hand and made you sit in front of him without a word. You blinked a couple of times yet remained seated on his cot.

“Arthur-”

“Darlin’,” he started again, clammy hands tightening their grip on yours.

“Yes?” You’d say again and again if he asked you to.

“I’m sorry. For scarin’ ya.” And he was instantly forgiven. Not that you could stay mad at him for long. You weren’t even sure you were mad at him in the first place.

“S’okay,” you smiled, your thumb brushing his hand. He smiled with you though it didn’t last very long.

“The bison’s a gift.”

“A gift? From who?”

“That ain’t what I meant,” he huffed. “I meant-” he shifted uncomfortably on the cot. “I meant.. my gift. To you.”

A snort left you before you could control it. “To me?” And why you would ask for a bison or when is beyond you.

“Just hear me out will ya?” He huffed again, cheeks all red. You just nodded, trying your best not to laugh.

With a deep breath, he continued.

“I love you,” he said softly before looking at your hands. He didn’t even let you say it back, just kept talking. “And I’ve been thinkin’.. When I was away..”

“I know I ain’t much of a hunter. And I’m even less of a man. Hell, I’m even worse with words,” he chuckled. “But darlin’..”

He exhaled loudly and you knew. It all made sense now. He’s about to propose to you.

Arthur’s eyes widened and his heart raced at the sight of you gasping and tearing up. He kept holding your hand, strangely finding comfort in what’s currently scaring him. And maybe that’s exactly why he wanted to marry you.

“If you’ll let me.. I’ll try. I- I’ll always keep you fed. And I’ll take us away from here. Far away, I swear. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. No more runnin’.”

You cried like you never cried before. The way his eyes twinkled when he said it even though you knew how much it scared him. The way he’s willing to chase down a dream to make you smile.

He was looking at you like a puppy, waiting for you to say something before, “shit-” he realized he forgot to pull out the ring.

Like a man possessed, he dropped to the ground, searching for the ring from his blood-stained clothes. Watching him clean it with his shirt made you laugh, pouring more tears out of your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he grinned all flustered, turning back to you.

There he was, already on one knee, a plain gold ring — a symbol of his hard labor you’ve witnessed all too well — humbly offered between his fingers.

Sure you’ve imagined it a couple of times before. How it would happen, if it ever would. You loved him too much to ask him to leave the gang; his family.

But unbeknownst to you, he hears your silent pleas. Sees how you stood by him.

He loved you too much to make you stay.

“Marry me darlin’. Let me give you a proper life. What do you say?”

In a swift breath, you answered, “yes.”

And you’d say it again and again if he asked you to.

“You quittin’ yet?”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the voice as familiar as the back of your hand.

You could also tell who it was from that damn joke he’s been telling over and over from the second you said yes.

You sure? Ain’t thinkin’ of backin’ out? Y’know you still got time.

Be it a jest or a genuine query, you know deep in your heart that you’ve never been more sure of anything else in your life.

A scoff left your lips, followed by a roll of your eyes. Yet you smiled.

“You think I should?” you feigned curiosity. Silence. You turned your head to find Arthur leaning on the clothesline post, a contemplating look on his face. Among the fingers that grabbed his belt, the shiny golden ring gleamed in the daylight. “Well?”

A second passes and then, “Nah.. I ain’t lettin’ ya.” Said with that crooked smile of his.

“Then I’m beggin’ you to stop askin’ me!” you laughed, dropping the clothes you were washing in the bucket. Oh how he loved your laugh. He’ll keep asking the dumbest questions known to man if it meant hearing you laugh.

“Arthur, leave the poor girl alone, will ya?” Hosea called out by the horses.

“Just gimme a minute!” Arthur replied before returning his gaze to you. He noticed how Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen paid attention to his little interaction with you and that made him a little sheepish. Back to being a teenage boy whenever he’s around you.

“Where you headed?”

“I asked you a question first,” he crossed his arms. The stupid smirk won’t leave his face and neither won’t the glint of mischief in his eyes. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til you answer me.”

“What question?”

“Are you quittin’?”

“Well do you still wanna marry me or not?” You raised your brow. Blush creeped on his cheeks, making the girls giggle.

“More than anythin’ in the world, ma’am,” he said shyly, his hat now covering his face. You pushed down the twitching on your lips. God, the way he makes you feel.

“Then I ain’t quittin’ the wedding.”

“Good.” He’s lucky he’s got a handsome smile, the bastard. And that he’s got the most patient lady.

“Now where you headed?”

“Just.. Takin’ care of wedding stuff with Hosea,” he was rather mumbling at this point, shying away from the audience.

“‘Kay, be careful,” you chuckled, turning to your laundry again.

There was shuffling and before you know it, he was crouched down next to you.

“Not gonna give your husband a kiss goodbye?” He whispered as if the girls wouldn’t still try to pry. Well. Nine days until your husband. That made you smile a little too wide for your liking. And then kissed him anyway. Silly, stupid man.

Your silly, stupid man.

“Come back to me,” you softened, patting his cheek. His baby blues shone under the shade of his hat. But then again, they always do when they’re looking at you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured as he stood up, smiling so wide, he was almost chuckling from how smitten he was.

Now with the golden band snug on the end of your palm, you could say that you quite literally have him wrapped around your finger.

He tipped his hat, bid the other ladies farewell, and went on his way. He had very important matters to attend to.

There are many things Arthur is capable of. Wedding organizing is apparently not one of them.

Yes, he’s used to thinking on his feet. Despite the most complex situations, there’s always an answer to him.

Even if it means occasionally punching his way out.

But he can’t really punch the wedding caterer can he? Or the man who tailored his suit. Or anyone else in the wedding business for that matter.

Good news is he’s finally done. Got himself a priest to officiate the wedding and paid off the new house; a quaint little thing he figured you’d like. He hoped you’d like.

Dutch made him look for a place to wed to which Arthur obliged. Wouldn’t want to expose the current home and put the gang in danger.

So Heartland Overflow it is.

He remembered taking you there, wanting to show you this silver dapple pinto. You ended up falling asleep in the meadow as he scouted for it. He decided to sleep next to you till noon. One of his favorite days. The perfect balance between wind and warmth and you.

The place gave him another idea that went according to plan like dominoes lining up to his luck. He invited Albert Mason who he happened to meet during one of his wedding ventures. Almost got bitten by an alligator in the process but he’ll be damned if he won’t get to capture your smile on the big day.

This wedding ain’t half bad considering. Perfect in fact. More than he could ever expect and the entire time, he kept imagining your reaction to seeing it all unfold. Maybe he was good at wedding organizing after all.

Still. He felt like he’s made more decisions in the past few days than he’s ever made in his entire life.

Being the impatient man that he is, he rode back to camp with a scowl as opposed to Hosea who looked like he enjoyed himself too much. A view you have come to enjoy as of late.

“Someone’s happy,” you teased while you made your way to him. He got off his horse with a scoff, hand immediately snaking around your waist as both of you walked to your shared tent. You didn’t forget to smirk back at Hosea, a silent agreement to share whatever happened to Arthur today. For later.

“Don’t even start,” he grumbled, only stopping to kiss your temple. “Won’t bother if it ain’t for you.”

The statement made you smile. A mental note was made to treat him good tonight. “At least that’s the last of it. Ain’t it?”

“Yep,” the word stretched out mid sigh, a popping-like sound at the end of it. His hold on you tightened, emphasizing his relief as well as excitement to show you everything he’s schemed. The action automatically pulled you closer and you giggled, a melody that never failed to warm his heart. You could convince him that this was all worth it by that single sound alone.

“Found a dress yet?” He asked, mingled with a grunt as he sat on his cot. You leaned on his shoulder, staring into the distance whilst he took off his boots. The sun had just settled below the horizon, coloring the sky purple.

“No,” you exhaled. “I don’t know..”

“Hate to sound like Strauss but you only got three days darlin’.” That elicited a chuckle out of you. And though you’ve kept count, the fact that you’re actually marrying him still made you giddy.

“Startin’ to think you’re gettin’ cold feet.”

“I’m not,” you clicked your tongue, slapping his back and earning a laugh from him. It boggles you how much this running joke entertained him.

“Well for what it’s worth, I’d marry you in anythin’,” he smiled, kissing the top of your head. His arm had returned to rest by your waist. “In rags,” followed by a nuzzle of his nose against your chin. “Darlin, I’d marry you in nothin’.”

“Mister Morgan!” You blushed at the way he whispered it, slapping him again. He was cackling like a damn crow.

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan?” He carried on, making you roll your eyes even when the giggle that left your lips betrayed you. Damn him.

“I’m serious Arthur! I can’t decide on what to wear,” you pouted.

“Alright, alright,” he nodded, chuckling the last of his amusement out as he wrapped both of his arms around you, chin perched cozily on your shoulder. “We can getcha a new dress if you’d like?”

“You know that’s out of the question. We can’t spend more than we already have.”

Arthur heaved a sigh, having to think again.

“Well-” He thought for a moment. “Wear the one I like.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Which one’s the one you like?”

“You know,” he said in this very obvious tone, looking up at you in disbelief. It was obvious from your lack of answer that you didn’t catch on.

Suddenly, he was picturing you in the dress in order to describe it to you. Oh how that white dress made you shine. How it hugged you in all the right places, showed him just enough of what he wanted to see..

It never ends well with you in that dress.

He scoffed, hiding how hot he was for you. His poor bride is fussing and here he was, constantly trying to jump your bones. It was funny because you could always tell from the way he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You know the damn dress, I ain’t gotta tell ya,” he reasoned, getting up from his cot to leave and ignoring your giggly complaints. “I got things to attend to.” Meaning adjusting his pants.

He’s had enough wedding related thinking anyway. Plus, how could you not know?

He sat in front of the mirror. The face he’s bored with looked a little different today, polished.

Just him all alone inside his tent possibly for the last time.

He’s getting married. How strange.

Sure he knows it, took two weeks to contemplate it. Maybe more. But it seems like everyday it keeps dawning on him.

He’s getting married.

The gang left him some time to himself for once, waiting outside with the faint buzzing of gnats and the swishing of Flat Iron Lake.

It’s been a while since he had to properly get ready for something. Used to be a habit of his when he realized he liked you. Until you took over for him. Not that you minded how he looked at all. Felt unreal for him to look back on those days.

There wasn’t a single benefit he got from cleaning up. He doesn’t see himself differently. But he took note of what you loved about him, made sure he looked good enough for you to like. His fingers adjusted the forget-me-nots in his jacket pocket that he picked this morning.

Oh, look at how they bring out the blue in your eyes! You had said when he gave you the same flowers some time ago. Something that stuck with him ever since.

He looked around his cleaned ‘home’. Though he’s never really stayed in the same place for very long, the walls of his tent along with his wagon had been constant. It never actually occurred to him that one day he won’t sleep here again.

Suppose when you first fell asleep in this very cot with him, he sort of knew. He just didn’t think he’d actually get it; a new life with you.

A smile tugged on his lips. Who knew a no-good outlaw like him could be this lucky? How far he’s come. That after everything, he’s actually getting something good.

He tried to not get all soft, turning to the mirror again. But upon seeing his face, he laughed.

“Lucky bastard, ain’t ya?”

And how right he was.

He didn’t realize how much of an understatement that was until the ceremony started and he finally saw you.

You didn’t end up wearing a new dress by any means. Just the one he requested which you decided to alter a bit. At least that’s what you think he requested. But goddamn.

It was like the second time he first saw you.

He was starting to regret his decision to not smoke at all this morning. It ain’t like you never kissed his cigarette-reeked mouth, right? His heart was beating so loud, he barely noticed how you were already stood in front of him. In that dress no less, the sun above you just right. Your eyes looked at no one but him, that very smile to accompany the rest of his days.

The girl of his dreams.

The girl of his dreams who’s suddenly whisper-shouting “Arthur!”

“-can you repeat these vows?” The priest said. Which Arthur realized he had been tuning out.

“Y-yes,” he answered with a clear of his throat, trying not to get distracted by another one of your smiles.

It went smoothly. You actually said I do and kissed him and didn’t run away. Albert took the pictures and everyone liked the food and especially the drinks and Arthur made it till the end without a single cigarette after all. Although he did indulge in some drinking.

Javier was strumming a slow song. The day came and almost went with some still dancing alongside you and your husband.

He had one hand holding your own whilst the other one held on to the small of your back. You laid your head near his heart, partly from exhaustion, mostly from content. The two of you swayed with the gentle breeze that grew with time.

“You regret marryin’ me don’t you? That why you were cryin’?” He joked yet again, recalling to how you cried during your vows.

“I am regretting it now,” you shot him a glare before leaning on him again. You can feel the warm rumbling of his laugh from his chest and it made you smile.

“Did you like the kiss?”

“Of course,” you nodded against him. “I like this too,” with a touch to the flowers in his pocket. “And oh this place.. It’s perfect, Arthur.” And it really was. A wedding straight out of a book and it was yours.

Now he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop smiling. He breathed a sigh of relief so big, it almost lifted your head off his chest. There was no telling who squeezed whose hand first.

“Felt a little.. different though.”

Panic striked through him. So sudden, that he had to pause dancing. “Meanin’?”

“The kiss. You didn’t taste like cigarettes. Not that I mind,” you looked up at him, this lovesick gaze in your eyes. Despite how soft it all was, it was like a slap to his face. This perfect woman is his wife.

“Darlin’..”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even know what he was going to say. He kept looking at you as if checking if this was all real. Being a little drunk did not help. Neither did your distracting lips.

“Do you still like the kiss?” Was what he managed to say.

You laughed and pulled your husband into the millionth kiss that night.

Your husband who now smelled like alcohol instead. Who’s been asking you the same question all night since he drank.

If only you could convince him just how perfect this wedding was. Though not more than he is <3

my masterlist

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

#dividers by adornedwithlight #wanted to marry him so bad I got carried away with this lmao #IT’S 6AM…#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #rdr2 community #red dead fandom #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff

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gracieheartspedro · 2 years ago

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Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors.

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses.

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age.

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare.

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes.

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice.

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself. You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response.

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily.

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed.

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained.

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm.

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds.

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long.

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired.

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually.

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink.

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door.

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man.

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one.

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough.

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms.

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head.

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older.

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief.

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly.

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment.

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed.

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods.

“Always is, kiddo.”

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some.

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics.

But for now, you should get some rest.

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts.

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have.

You need to remind the council of all your father does.

You need him to get better.

You need him.

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce.

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer.

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death.

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family.

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?”

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either.

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms.

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side.

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital.

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller.

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him.

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far.

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face.

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question.

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more.

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime.

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands.

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time.

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile.

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you.

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls.

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse.

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun.

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company.

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson.

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt.

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage.

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot.

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him.

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were.

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits.

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy.

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself.

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in.

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice.

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit.

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious.

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes.

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud.

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now.

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake.

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse.

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward.

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof.

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you.

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings.

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that?

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away.

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view.

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure.

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you.

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that.

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face.

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable.

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours.

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire.

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it.

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually.

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man.

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls.

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember.

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing.

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there.

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you.

The second day starts off a bit rough.

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked.

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller.

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life.

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind.

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia.

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say.

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you.

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly.

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him.

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame.

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket.

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day.

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds.

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city.

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep.

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him.

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion.

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him.

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses.

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night.

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances.

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much.

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now.

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking.

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind.

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy.

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard.

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit.

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask.

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions.

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew.

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense.

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital.

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you.

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town.

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him.

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward.

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up.

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same.

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him.

“Right, of course.”

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run.

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding.

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side.

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety.

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack.

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back.

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read.

levofloxacin

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through.

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie.

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything.

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it.

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials.

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room.

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it.

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it.

Click. Click. Click.

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him.

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern.

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body.

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire.

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came.

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City.

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum.

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing.

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step.

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods.

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body.

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip.

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you.

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you.

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully.

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything.

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat.

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind.

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire.

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel.

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you.

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice.

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body.

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in.

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

Joel can not do this.

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked.

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again.

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better.

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better.

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision.

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him.

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel.

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this.

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation.

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window.

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste.

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit.

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted.

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away.

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap.

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment.

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want.

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth.

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big.

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas.

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out.

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does.

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows.

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him.

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair.

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance.

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious.

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears.

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him.

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more.

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach.

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive.

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm.

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over.

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach.

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky.

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that.

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess.

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button.

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess.

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air.

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin.

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you.

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open.

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors.

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you.

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you.

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him.

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend.

“We have to get home,” Is all he says.

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again.

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself.

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky.

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest.

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home.

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you.

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks.

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think.

But no, he’s deadly serious.

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together.

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life.

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already.

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father.

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive.

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week.

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter.

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel.

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid.

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit.

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables.

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you.

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked.

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it.

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud.

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then.

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal.

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home.

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong.

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door.

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly.

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it.

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands.

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially.

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up.

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left.

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle.

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom.

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all.

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys.

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray.

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one.

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions.

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake.

But you’re not easing up.

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want.

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you.

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you.

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him.

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy.

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips.

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips.

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice.

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door.

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question.

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit.

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby.

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him.

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages.

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air.

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought.

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets.

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him.

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads.

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly.

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face.

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for.

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief.

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles.

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel last of us smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #post outbreak joel #dbf joel #dbf joel miller #gracieheartspedro #fic: who we are

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vivwritescrappythings · 1 year ago

Text

saying thanks

joel miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

masterlist

MDNI!

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar. It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy grin gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hand away and tried to relax your jaw as your head descended far enough that your nose was pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smelled surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock caught, sliding in so slow that it made you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you took whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #joel tlou #I pictured show Joel but you can picture game Joel #they’re both hot #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction

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grayandthyme · 27 days ago

Text

dirty dancin' ;

tommy miller x wife!reader ♫ the curse of the fold - shawn james

Synopsis: Wearing his belt at Tipsys to show just who owns you. Warnings: Smut, 18+ MDNI. barely a plot. Oral sex (f receiving). Tommy talks so much. Spanking. Choking. Unprotected p in v.

authors note: to the anon who said they're ovulating. yeah. i get it. something about the tipsy bison being the hub for bad decisions.. or good ones, yk?

w/c 3.1k

The Tipsy Bison was the heart of Jackson’s chaos—good and bad. Built on drunken decisions and half-remembered nights, its foundation was as unstable as the laughter that echoed off its walls.

Blues music spilled out of the speakers like spilled bourbon—raw, loud, seductive. Every Friday was a celebration. Hell, why not? It was a commune.

A place built on shared work and shared freedom.

Nobody was stopping you from drinking hard, dancing harder, and fucking like the world had already ended.

So that’s exactly what everyone did—especially on Fridays.

You moved with the music, hips loose, blood humming with whiskey. The line swayed as one, but you felt only yourself.

The drag of low-rise denim against your skin, the subtle clink of the sky-blue, rhinestone-studded Howlite belt riding your hips—it wasn’t even yours.

Tommy’s.

Stolen from your shared closet, left to dangle loose around you like a silent invitation.

You stomped once, then again, feeling the rhythm coil through your body.

The singer let out a riff that slid down your spine like a tongue—warm, slow, unrelenting.

You leaned into it. Hips tilting left, then right. Your fingers grazed down your waist as your shoulders rolled, each movement deliberate, slow, teasing.

Maria was next to you, laughing softly and lightly, mirroring your sway. But you barely registered her, especially not now. Your pulse thrummed under your skin, synced with the beat and the weight of one particular gaze.

Your husband didn’t dance. Never had.

One boot planted against the barstool rung, his arm sprawled over the counter, a half-empty glass in his hand.

Jesse was on his left, Joel on the right, talking low about something or other—probably Jesse griping over how close Dina was grinding near the edge of your group. The usual.

But Tommy? His eyes hadn’t left you all night.

He watched like a man memorizing something sacred.

Like the sway of your hips was scripture.

Like the glint of his belt on your waist was a prayer he’d whispered into your skin hours before.

This was a game you could play.

The type of teasing you could get behind.

Wanna play, Cowboy?

You knew he was watching. You could feel it like heat on the back of your neck, like the drag of calloused fingers even though he hadn’t touched you—not yet.

Your lips curled into a smirk as you shifted your weight, letting the beat guide your body in tighter, slower circles.

The music throbbed like a second pulse. You played along.

Then, without warning, you hooked your thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt. Just a little.

Just enough to lift it—inch by inch—so the edge of your stomach caught the amber bar lights.

A flash of skin, the faint line of muscle, the promise of more.

You let the shirt fall again, but not before your eyes met his. A silent challenge thrown across the room. The kind only a married couple could get away with.

His jaw clenched. Barely. His fingers tightened around the glass.

Jesse was still talking. Joel, half-nodding at something.

But Tommy? That man hadn’t heard a single word.

He was locked in. You had him.

So you did it again. Slower this time. Hips swaying, that soft cotton shirt gliding up your ribs—just shy of scandal. You could almost hear his breath catch from across the bar.

One more beat. One more hip roll.

And then—

The scrape of his stool against the wood floor was sharp, final.

You bit your lip, triumphant, as he stood.

Didn’t say a word. Didn’t excuse himself.

He just moved.

Shoulders set, boots heavy, eyes dark and fixed on you. Every step felt like it landed in your chest. You kept dancing—barely—but your rhythm faltered as the space between you and Tommy collapsed.

His hand found your waist like it belonged there. Firm. Possessive. That belt—his belt—pressed under his thumb.

“Y’keep that up,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice low, accent thick with heat, “... we ain’t makin’ it to last call.”

You turned into him, letting your hand graze his chest.

“Wasn’t planning to.”

The music pulsed low and steady, some twangy blues thudding through the crowded bar, thick with bodies and sweat and that familiar scent of whiskey-soaked floorboards.

The lights were dim, golden, casting everything in a warm, sinful haze.

You were circling him, slow and deliberate, each step like the start of something he wasn’t sure he deserved but couldn’t take his eyes off of. You let your hips sway with the beat, half-dancing, half-taunting, moving just enough to make him shift where he stood—rooted like a man trying real hard not to come undone in public.

Tommy watched you like a predator trying not to pounce.

His hands were clenched into white-knuckling at his sides, jaw tight, eyes burning beneath that familiar brim of his worn-out cap.

Everyone around you was loud and distracted, but you could feel his focus like a spotlight. Could taste it.

You turned your back to him, letting your body brush against his just enough to be dangerous—your spine arching, your hips rolling slow.

The bar’s floor vibrated with bass and footsteps, but all you could hear was the way his breath caught when you slid a hand down your side… down to the belt slung loosely at your hips.

His belt.

You caught his gaze over your shoulder, smirking as you twisted just enough to show it off. The leather hung low, resting against your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, and you watched the way his throat worked as he swallowed.

“You like that?” you spoke, voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

He didn't answer right away.

Just stepped closer, the space between you all but gone now.

His hand hovered near your waist, fingertips twitching like they were dying to touch—but didn’t dare. Not here. Not yet.

“Darlin’,” he said low, so close you could feel the warmth of it against your neck, “... you keep movin' like that, I’m gonna forget there’s people watchin’.”

You turned slowly, facing him fully now, looking up at him with mock innocence dancing in your eyes.

Still, a fun and excited sway to your shoulders, magnetizing the rest of your limbs.

“That so?” you teased, running a finger along the edge of his belt where it hung loose. “Didn’t figure you for the shy type, Cowboy.”

His gaze darkened, a slow tongue roll against his teeth, “Ain’t shy. Just tryin’ real hard not to pull you outta here over my shoulder.”

You laughed softly, leaning in just enough so your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Maybe I’m hopin’ you do.”

That pulled a noise out of him—quiet, but sharp and guttural.

He took a deep breath, fingers finally landing on your hips, hot and steady, grounding you even as the world spun with movement and music.

“Careful,” he murmured, grip tightening ever so slightly. “I ain’t got a lot of patience left.”

You leaned back to look him in the eye, grinning like the devil.

“Good. I’m not in the mood for slow.”

One beat passed. Then another. And then—

“Ten minutes,” he said, voice rough. “We’re leavin’. Don’t test me.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide.

“Make it five and I’ll even keep the belt on.”

His eyes blazed like fire through whiskey.

“Four,” he exhaled, already steering you through the thick crowd with a hand at the small of your back, possessive, certain.

“Tommy,” you gasped between laughs, breath catching as he practically guided you around clusters of drunken bodies and swaying dancers, “Thought you meant home—”

He didn’t stop, just leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he said, low and rough, “Can't wait that long.”

Your breath hitched.

He pushed the bathroom door open with his shoulder, glanced once to make sure it was empty, and then hauled you in by the belt still slung low on your hips. The door shut with a hard click behind you, fingers twisting the lock with urgency.

The second you were inside, it was like the air shifted—went heavy with heat and anticipation.

Tommy backed you up against the door, hands braced on either side of your head, body not quite touching yours yet, but close enough to feel the warmth rolling off him.

“You wearin’ my belt like that…” he drawled, voice thick with heat, “lookin’ at me like you want me to lose every bit of sense I got—”

“I do,” you breathed, tugging gently at the front of his shirt.

“Been wantin’ to all night.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth, then lower—to where the belt curved against your bare skin.

You saw it in the twitch of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils. The moment he gave in.

He kissed you like a man starved—hands finally finding your waist, your hips, your thighs. Pulling you into him so hard you felt your back press deeper into the door.

It wasn’t sweet, not at first. It was hungry.

Full of heat and tension, wound tight from hours of stolen glances and low murmurs in your ear.

But underneath the urgency, it was still Tommy—steady hands, careful even when he was desperate. o

One hand cupped the back of your head to keep it from knocking into the door, the other gripping your hip like you might vanish if he let go.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and your breath was shaky. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“You sure?” he asked, voice gravel-rough, but his eyes—God, his eyes were soft. Always soft with you.

You nodded, thumb brushing along his jaw. “I started this, didn’t I?”

He smiled then, just barely. “Yeah,” he rasped, mouth ghosting yours again, ... 'n I’m sure as hell gonna finish it.”

Without another word, Tommy threads his fingers through your belt loops—lifting until your ass hits the cold granite of the countertop.

His teeth graze against your collarbone, nipping up until his lips rest against your jawline.

"Such a fuckin' tease," He begins, hands methodical and slow as they unthread the leather of the belt on your hips, "Showin' everybody you're mine."

He left it on. That was the best part.

Only undoing the buckle enough to pry it from the middle of you. His fingers slow—calculated as they pop open the button of your jeans, thumb and middle finger slowly dragging the zipper down.

Your breath came out parted between lips, the smell of alcohol wafting around you. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He hummed, grabbing the denim fabric and slipping it down, "You wanted me to take you into the bathroom?"

Head careening lower, he lowered himself to his knees with a soft, aching grunt.

Calloused finger pads treading the path up your bare thighs. Taking a palm under your knee—only parting your legs enough to get a view of your aching cunt.

Slow as he kissed against the fabric of your panties, tongue only lulling out to tease against the already wet center. "Fuck you in here? Like some sort of fuckin' gentleman."

His eyes flicked up against heavy lashes, deep and dark. He no longer looked at you as just his wife, but somewhat of prey.

"Fuck—"

This was your nature. Teasing back and forth, until someone takes it a bit too far.

"No smartass comment?" He continued, smiling at your uneven heaving, eyes back to target—using his middle finger to hook the fabric away, "Thought so."

"So fuckin' wet I'm surprised there's a thought tumblin' around in there," He murmured, lowering his mouth against you, tongue making languid laps—only savoring the swell of essence.

"Tommy—" It came out through worship, hand threading through dark, sweat-slicked curls, a tight squeeze. It earns a guttural noise, somewhere between a slurp and a growl. His tongue doesn't stop its antics, circling, flattening, teeth jutting out just to catch anything swollen and needy.

"Oh, darlin'," He murmurs between breathless huffs from parted lips, one last flattened lick up before he sets blown pupils up at your face. "So pretty when you're needy…"

“Oh—fuck, Tommy—”

He laughs. Not a little, pathetic huff of air—full of gravel, hoarse as he takes a hand to his mouth, letting it swipe downward to collect the liquid from his facial hair.

Your face is a contortion of missing pleasure, practically crying for his lips back onto sobbing folds.

It's teasing as he whispers it.

"What?"

"Missin' my mouth that badly? Don't worry, babygirl, you're only cumin' on my cock tonight."

Your pupils, now blown wide, only hinder at his words—flicking down, and then back up.

His mouth crashed into yours, deep and bruising, all teeth and tongue and heat. Hands mapped every inch of skin like he was trying to memorize you all over again, like this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d undressed you, but the first.

Tommy whispered your name like worship. It's soft and easy as it comes off his tongue.

His tongue was still laced with traces of your taste.

His hands snake back down to your waist, a small shimmy of your body until you've been bent over the sink. It's enough of a bend that your feet dangle to touch the floor, toes of your boots scratching against the wood.

"See what you do to me?" He's quick to snake a hand against your jaw, palm and fingers splayed long enough to clasp against your throat and tilt your chin high.

You're staring at yourself in the mirror.

The sight in itself was enough to make you unravel. He's been aggressive, and he's sure as hell been needy. But this? This is a whole new level.

“Tommy—" You exhale, fingers white knuckling against the granite, eyes half-lidded, "Need you…"

"Yeah," He smiles, fingers rounding your ass, a drumming of the pads of his fingers. With a quick lift of his hand, his palm comes down across your ass in a swipe.

It's loud, cracking against soft supple flesh, "Bet you do."

"Shit—" It came spilling out of your mouth, uncontrolled, trying to bite back any noise elicited.

You hadn't even noticed when he unzipped his jeans, letting the belt clink to the side.

Hand pulling himself from his boxers, already red and angry.

No surprise there.

"You're gonna be quiet f'me, yeah?" The drawl thickened the more aroused he got. The more unhinged, and sloppy. He lined himself up, taking soft and slow circles against your entrance, just the tip—and then pulling back.

"Yes—" It punctured your lungs, breathy and needy, "Please Tommy—Please, Please—I—"

Without another word, he bottomed out, tip of his cock crowning against slick folds. Fingers tightening against your throat—soft—compared to the way his hips ground you into the granite.

"Look how well we fit together," He hums, letting his hips draw back, slow and unnerving. Then he lurched forward. It hit that spongy part that practically eviscerated your nervous system.

The way he filled you to the brim was a different type of satisfying—wanting to bury so deep inside of you he didn't want to come out.

The bathroom filled with panting, and heaving—your gasps and bite backs of whines like music to his ears. His shirt drawn into his mouth, teeth baring as he held the fabric up—a nice view, watching as he slid in and out.

"Needed this so bad, huh, babygirl?" He mutters through clenched teeth, the pace at which he sets practically sending you into orbit.

The toebox of your boots not even touching the ground, granite pushing so deep into your stomach you could practically feel him hit it.

His hand flew from your throat, parting between your thighs to position his middle and ring finger against your clit—rubbing long drawn out circles against his rhythmic pumping.

"Tommy—Cumming—Tommy!" It ripped from your throat like a prayer. So natural. So loving.

Fingers white-knuckled against the granite, you're surprised you didn't break something. A nail, maybe.

You felt your eyes flutter closed, the tears stinging pretty little marks against your flushed-fucked out complexion.

"Keep those pretty eyes open," He hushes, leaning down, angling deeper—anything to feel you squeeze around him. "Fuck—That's it…" Your name spilled from his lips like prayer-turned-curse.

It came out as an array of gasps and praises.

"Fuck, you're so good—So fuckin' good…"

"Shit—sweetheart... made f'me.."

He continued to drill, hands slipping into the base of your scalp—a quick grounding tug until your chin pointed towards the mirror.

Pleads slipping from your lips until he screwed his eyes shut, hips clumsily slapping until it's a foreign, unsteady rhythm.

The aftermath came in silence.

The kind that throbbed just like your pulse still did.

Your legs trembled as you leaned into the wall, catching your breath. The tile bit at your stomach where your shirt had ridden up.

A bruise would bloom there. Probably a few.

Heart pounding, legs barely steady. He didn’t let you fall.

Instead, he crouched in front of you, big hands gentle as they slid your shirt down. His fingers traced your thighs, the dip of your hips, slow and careful.

“Jesus, darlin'…” he muttered, breath warm against your skin as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief. “You alright?”

You nodded, but it was shaky. A flicker of something behind your eyes—vulnerability, raw and real—flashed too quick to catch unless you knew where to look.

He always knew where to look.

“C’mere,” he said, voice softer now. He lifted your chin with two fingers, brushing damp hair from your cheek. “Let me see you.”

The handkerchief was rough, smelled faintly like tobacco and leather, but his touch was patient.

He dabbed the mess from your thighs, kissed the corner of your mouth.

Took his time like you were something worth tending to.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, brows pinched with worry as he searched your face.

“No,” you whispered. “Not at all.”

"Fixed me, even."

Tommy let out a quiet sigh and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Reckon I’d do that a hundred times if it means I get to hold you after,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

Outside, the bar roared on.

But in here, it was quiet.

Just porcelain, cold tile, and the kind of warmth that only came from a man who still looked at you like you were the only thing in Jackson worth keeping safe.

Masterlist

#the last of us hbo #the last of us #tommy miller #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller hbo #gabriel luna #tommy miller smut #tommy miller imagines #tommy miller x reaer #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller tlou #tommy tlou #the last of us part II #tlou2

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joelmillers-wife · 2 months ago

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take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter seven

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: your conversation with maria has you secluding yourself while you deal with your realizations, but what happens when you get injured and joel can’t find you? wc: 6.9k (6901 words exactly... nice) rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, fluff, angst, mild gore (injury-based), mentions of blood, miller brother bonding, perhaps a joel pov?? (who knows, teehee), reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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VII. RENEGADE

Is it insensitive for me to say Get your shit together? So I can love you Is it really your anxiety That stops you from giving me everything? Or do you just not want to?

The conversation you had with Maria earlier in the week had you reeling, to say the least. Did Joel like you that way? Did you like him like that? Surely not, right?

Then why the fuck have you been avoiding him?

It was unintentional at first, you tell yourself. The following day after you saw Maria, you didn’t have patrol, and Joel had to go join Tommy for his outing. Then, the next few days you asked to have off—said you were sick. Which… wasn’t a total lie. You definitely didn’t feel good or normal.

Joel had come knocking on your door the day you had told the others you weren’t feeling well. “Tommy said you wouldn’t be joinin’ me for patrol the next few days. Said you’re sick,” he had said. You had kept him on your porch, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible while feigning a cough. You remember his face showing confusion mixed with concern before he’d given you a bowl of something. “Ellie made it for ya after I told her. Said she hopes you feel better soon.”

Did she make it, you wondered, or was he using her as his excuse again?

Having quickly taken it from him, you said your thanks and shut the door in his face, waiting a few moments behind the door to hear his footsteps walk away. You could tell he had hesitated—waiting by your door for a few moments, concerned, before turning around and making his way down your walkway. After that, you ignored any visits you had—brushing people off through the door and assuring them that you were fine.

It felt pathetic, honestly. Only a few months ago, you were frustrated with Joel’s own avoidance of you after your argument. Now, here you were, doing everything you could to keep a distance from him.

That day Joel came with soup was three days ago, and you knew you couldn’t fake being sick for too long. So, you decided you needed to spend some time past the gates today, hoping to go by yourself and stopping at Jackson’s bar, Tipsy Bison, on the way to grab some food beforehand. It was midday on a Saturday, which you know is usually when Tommy and Joel are there. And that’s totally fine—you’re capable of facing him.

You open the door and are immediately hit with the noise level of the place being so busy. Before you even take a full step inside, your eyes lock onto Joel who was sitting at the bar, staring at you as if he felt your presence being there. You freeze and watch him immediately sit up straight, as if moving to greet you, his face lit up with a rare smile. The sight makes you fight to suppress your smile, just from seeing Joel’s reaction to your presence. That damn odd, warm feeling returns, and suddenly that happiness you first feel when seeing him shifts into shame—shame that you’ve been depriving yourself of this for so long.

Taking a deep breath to try and compose yourself, you step into the place and make your way over to the pair of brothers sitting at the bar. Tommy follows Joel’s gaze until he lands on you, his face lighting up with a similar warm greeting.

“Hey there, honey. You been feelin’ alright?”

You smile in response to Tommy’s question. “Yeah, I feel much better, thank you,” you say, before moving your gaze to Joel’s, only to find him looking up at you sheepishly—a half-smile slowly upturning the corners of his mouth.

“Hi, Joel.”

“Hey, darlin’. Glad to see you outta the house finally. I’d offer you to sit and join us for a drink, but Tommy and I were about to head over to the power plant to fix up a couple things.”

You try to force a smile before saying, “That’s alright. I was actually planning on heading out today. Saw a shop out west the other week that had some things I thought I'd like for my place, so I just came here to grab food before trying to join someone on patrol.”

At that, Joel frowns for a second before an idea seems to come to him. “How ‘bout you wait for tomorrow? I can go with ya first thing in the mornin’.”

You tense up at that and quickly try to come up with something to avoid having to wait. “No, that's alright. I’ve been cooped up all week and wanna get a chance to be outside as soon as possible. I don’t mind going out on my own.”

Joel’s frown deepens. “I don’t like the thought of you goin’ out there by yourself…”

Tommy quips up to interject with, “C’mon Joel, she’s an adult. She’ll be alright out past Jackson on her own for a bit. Area’s been clear for a while.”

Joel takes a second to turn to his brother with a sharp glare, and you grab the chance to speak up. “Yeah, plus the spot wasn’t too far away.”

Looking back at you, Joel’s mouth settles into a firm line, uneasiness feeling his features before he speaks up again—his tone leaving no room to argue with him. “I’ll go with ya in the mornin’. You shouldn’t be– I mean, no one should be goin’ out there on their own, no matter how safe it feels right now.”

Sighing in defeat and annoyance, you reluctantly agree—feeling scolded like a child.

Tommy looks between the two of you back and forth for a moment before tapping his hand on the bar table and standing up. “Well, we need to start headin’ out now. You take care of yourself, honey,” he says, patting your shoulder as he moves past you and heads out of the bar.

You look back to Joel who had just gotten up and was staring at you questioningly. “Meet you outside your place at 7 a.m. tomorrow, alright?” He says, though his voice phrases it as more of a statement than a question, causing you to reluctantly nod and stifle a pout as you watch him walk out of the bar.

Frustrated, you huff out a breath before ordering a sandwich to go, grabbing it and begin to head to the market stall down the street with the intent to get some produce and go back home obeyingly. On your way, you’re suddenly hit with that feeling of Joel treating you like a child—feeling like you aren’t to be trusted on your own. You stand there for a moment, fidgeting in place trying to figure out what to do. You feel that same stupid fucking feeling in your stomach you’ve felt all week and it was beginning to drive you insane. You realized isolating yourself in your house didn’t do what you wanted it to, and it felt like you were on the precipice of insanity. You had to get out.

So you would.

Looking the other way, you make the decision to head in the opposite direction over to the stables. Stopping at the patrol board, you notice one of the newer, younger members that joined the crew, Jesse, was speaking to someone about his partner being late. You walk over to him, asking, “You on your own?”

He looks at you and sighs. “I guess. Damn guy was supposed to be here like thirty minutes ago. Fuck… I don’t want Maria to think I’m not capable out there if I’m irresponsible with the time.”

His concern makes you smile a bit. Though new, Jesse has proven himself to be incredibly responsible—always wanting to prove himself worthy of his role in the most sincere way possible. You hadn’t spoken with him much, but he was always kind and genuine.

Taking a quick glance at the board to see Jesse’s assignment and realize the area you wanted to check out was only a few miles past it. “Mind if I join?” You ask. “I got a spot I wanna stop at not far from your destination, and it’s smarter if I take someone with me. Only if you’re up for that?”

His face shows relief as he eagerly nods. “Yes, please. I don’t wanna wait too long for him, but I also don’t want to go on my own.”

You nod in response before getting set up to head out with Jesse. You told Joel you wouldn’t go out there alone, and you wouldn’t.

Joel knew something was going on with you, and it was starting to frustrate him—a gnawing feeling burrowing deeper and deeper into his skin as more and more time goes on without seeing you. He knew you were out for the week, but you ignored every one of his efforts to check on you. And now, he sees you for the first time in what felt like years to him, and it felt like you barely acknowledged him. His anxiety brewed, and he began to worry if he had done something and wasn’t aware—racking his brain through anything that’s happened but not recalling anything. Plus, Ellie would’ve told him if he did, or maybe you would’ve spoken to Tommy about it. At least he hopes you would.

“Ya know, if you keep glarin’ hard enough, I think you’ll break the same pipes again with just your eyes,” Tommy says.

Joel looks up from his task to scowl at his brother. “The fuck you mean?”

Tommy gestures to Joel with a wave of his hand. “Man, you’ve spent the past two hours glarin’ at anythin’ and everythin’ since we got ‘ere. Hell, ya almost bit off Eugene’s fuckin’ head when he asked if you wanted help grabbin’ the wrench,” he says with a laugh.

Joel grumbles before looking down and muttering, “M’not glarin’.”

What Joel misses is the doubtful look his brother gives him. “Yeah, sure ya aren’t. Just like you haven’t been a pain in my fuckin’ ass since the first day you didn’t get to see her.”

Joel looks sideways at Tommy. “Don’t know what you mean,” he lies.

Tommy looks at him pointedly before laughing. “Really? You mean you don't remember the times this week you’ve been pouncin’ on me every chance ya get, demandin’ to know if I’ve seen her?”

A grumble is the only response that comes from Joel, before Tommy presses further. “C’mon now, big brother. I’m not as blind as you when it comes to this shit. Usually you were the one better with women growin’ up—hell it got you a kid at the ripe age of sixteen.”

Joel gives Tommy a warning look for a moment before he sighs. “Yeah, well that was almost fourty fuckin’ years ago. Things change,” he says. “And I already told ya, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. I’m just… worried, ya know? Ain’t heard from her all week and then she just shows up wantin’ to venture out on her own? Figure someone should check on her—talk to her and see if she’s alright is all.”

Shrugging, Tommy says, “Think she just wasn’t feelin’ well, man. She was fine when she was with Maria earlier this week. Probably caught somethi–”

That seems to grab Joel's attention, and he cuts Tommy off, rushing out demands of, “Maria? What do you mean? Why was she over at your house? When was this?”

Tommy looks at him like he’s crazy. “Relax, Joel, they were just hangin’ out. She’s allowed to have other friends besides you, ya know? Hell, anyone would get sick of your ass if you were the only person they spent time with.” He scoffs humorously before deciding to push and tease his older brother a bit further. “Maybe Maria told her all your bullshit and she realized how fuckin’ crazy you are,” he says, laughing before folding up the blueprint on the table next to them.

Joel freezes at that, dread filling his entire being.

Tommy seems to notice his brother’s silence and looks over at Joel’s nervous face. Sighing, Tommy tries to reassure him by saying, “Look, Maria wouldn’t… talk ‘bout that stuff, okay? It was just a joke, Joel. I’m sorry, alright?”

Joel flexes his jaw, nodding distractedly. He knows they wouldn’t talk to you about anything like that, but he holds anxiety at the thought of you hating him. The mere idea of it makes him sick.

Joel’s pulled from his thoughts quickly as he finishes tightening up the final pipe in the machine they’ve been working on for the past few hours. “Alright, I gotta go head out, and you need to go home and take a fuckin’ cold shower to help the anger I feel radiatin’ off you,” Tommy tells him.

Joel rolls his eyes, a soft grunt leaving his mouth as he straightens himself up, packing away the tools that were used and getting ready to head out.

As he follows Tommy out, his brother stops him with a grip on his shoulder. “Maybe try lettin’ her come to you—gives her the opportunity to open herself up to a social presence without feelin’ suffocated.”

Joel gives him a silent nod before parting ways as he heads home. Once he reaches his place, he sees none of the lights on in your home. His brows furrow at the thought, before figuring you were just around town shopping at the market or something. He’ll take his brother’s advice, as much as he doesn’t want to, and let you come to him.

But he can’t help thinking, where were you?

It was nighttime when Joel had left his house to get dinner. The moment he steps outside, as if on instinct, he’s immediately looking at your house to find any form of life in there. A piece of him feels relief when he sees the kitchen light on, as well as another in some upstairs window.

Okay, you were home. He’d go to the mess hall to eat and bring you something as well to see how you were doing. He knows what Tommy said but… something in him pulls himself to be near you. Like a goddamn addict, he got one sight of you earlier today after a week of withdrawals, and needs something to help him make it to tomorrow when he’d see you.

On the way over to the mess hall, he sees Maria and one of the newer guys on patrol standing outside of the makeshift hospital in Jackson. Joel makes eye contact with Maria and watches her body language shift the moment she spots him—tensing herself if something bad has happened, and she doesn’t want him to know.

His eyebrows come together before he marches up to them, catching the man she’s with saying your name in a hushed tone. Joel feels his heart pounding in his chest upon hearing the mention of you.

“Somethin’ happen?” He demands from Maria, formalities long forgotten.

She looks over at the new kid, who Joel vaguely remembers his name being Jesse, before sighing in resolve and answering him. “She… Look, she just decided to join Jesse for a last minute patrol thing.”

Jesse speaks up, guilt coating his voice. “I swear I didn’t mean for anything to happen. She said she just wanted to get out for a bit, and it was only gonna be a quick trip–”

Joel feels his stomach drop as ice fills his tone. “Where is she.”

Maria sighs again, as if she didn’t want Jesse to speak up. “She said she’s fine, but she didn’t want to get checked out with the doctors. Said she could handle it herself and that she was just gonna head home and–”

Joel doesn’t give her a chance to finish speaking before he walks, no, runs to your house.

You had been outside? Without him? Why would you do that? You promised him you’d wait till tomorrow morning like he asked.

Joel reaches your place in record time and begins pounding on your door while calling out your name. He waits a few moments and gets no response, his anxiety only growing as he begins shouting your name again, more frantic. “I know you’re home,” he says. “I see your damn lights on. Open the door, please?”

A minute in total passes with no response from you before panic completely consumes him. “Darlin’, just please come open this door for me, will ya?”

He reaches for the door handle and begins to aggressively shake it hoping to get it open, only to find it was locked—something he knew you remembered to do religiously. He picked up on it fairly quickly, how you had the habit of instantly locking your door the moment it was closed. Honestly, it was something that eased Joel’s worries of your safety at times. But now? Now he wishes you didn’t remember to lock it.

Reason leaves his mind completely as he begins banging his shoulder into your door repeatedly, hearing the cracking of the wood before managing to get the door open. Joel takes a quick look around your living room but sees no traces of you there. He makes his way into your kitchen, where the light he had seen earlier was still on.

He marches in, quickly scanning the space but not finding anything until his eyes land on the floor behind your island counter. His whole body freezes as he sees water on the floor, and droplets of blood haphazardly covered by a kitchen towel. Fear reaches into his chest and wraps a fist around his heart, squeezing until the air gets sucked out of his lungs.

A soft clatter sounding from upstairs grabs Joel’s attention—his head snapping in the direction of the house, making a run towards the staircase stationed at the base of your entryway. He takes the steps practically three at a time until he pauses at the top of your staircase for a moment, realizing he’s never been in this part of your house. He doesn’t really know where you could even be.

To his right he sees a room with the door slightly ajar and thinks to check there first before he notices a very faint light in the room on the left with the door wide open. Rushing over, he walks into what he realizes is your bedroom but stops, confused when he doesn’t find you. Then, connected to your bedroom is another closed door where he sees light peeking out from the crack at the bottom, and hears faint cursing.

Joel crosses the short distance in quick strides and twists open the doorknob before barging into what appears to be your bathroom. His eyes widen, and he feels slight relief fill his lungs when he spots you. You’re sat on the side of your tub, wearing only a tank top and jeans, and staring at him with an expression that shows disbelief and slight annoyance. His relief at you being in front of him, alive and breathing, switches back to that fear from only minutes ago when he notices something else.

You were hunched over, wincing in pain as you held a wine-colored rag to your right shoulder. But it’s not wine, he realizes. No, it’s blood.

“What happened?” Joel breathes out.

“Dude, did you just break down my fucking door?”

“What. Happened.”

You sigh, lightheartedly saying, “You know you’re gonna fix that shit for me, right? Fucking lucky you were the one who did it. If someone else had broken down my door I’d be way more pissed off.” The sound of Joel saying your name as a warning makes you look up to see the death glare on his face aimed at you.

Deciding to not joke anymore, you sigh and wince as you pull away the rag from your shoulder, allowing Joel access to view your wound. At the sight, Joel rushes over and kneels onto the ground in front of you, hands immediately coming up to gently examine the injury.

You try to brush away his concern. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

He gives you a pointed look, silently calling you out on your bullshit and making you sigh before saying, “I… I just wanted to get out, alright?”

Joel’s look of concern, and almost anger, slowly softens into something else before he gives a resigned exhale. “Darlin’, I told you to wait for me to come with you. I promised you I’d go with you in the mornin’.”

His words make you frown. A part of you told yourself you wanted to go out by yourself just because. Now, being faced with Joel in front of you, you begin to realize why you didn’t want to go with him.

You let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at the tile floor timidly before offering a half-assed reason. “I just, I wanted to do it now… I don’t know.”

Joel’s lips straighten into a firm line as he seems to hold back what he wants to say. Instead, he presses you about the cause of your wound.

“It’s stupid, okay? Just… We ran into two raiders–”

At that, Joel straightens up and his eyes fill with rage before you rush to finish talking. “Don’t worry, we handled them. But, one of them shot me before I could reach for my gun. It went right through and it didn’t hit anything major. I figured I can just stitch it up myself here.”

Joel looks over to your shoulder to assess your wound. It really wasn’t that bad—not bad enough to bleed out, and you really could have been able to stitch it up yourself.

He sighs before taking the rag from your hand and dipping it into the bucket you had placed on the side of the tub. “Won’t need more than a few stitches it looks like,” he says, before frowning and looking at you again. “Ya know, we got doctors who can do this for you? Don’t need to be doin’ these things yourself anymore… Could’ve asked me,” Joel says, sounding timid and almost sad at the end.

You look at him softly, his face inches from yours as his entire body is leaned into you so he can get closer to your shoulder. “I guess I just wanted to do something myself…” The words sound so frail leaving you, as if they hold no real weight to them—your own voice betraying whether it believes the words you’re saying.

He keeps his eyes trained on your shoulder as he cleans the wound, not looking at you while he mutters, “You can just say you didn’t want me with you.”

Joel’s words make your body sag as you feel guilt—guilt for making him worry, guilt for breaking your promise to wait for him… guilt for avoiding him for so long. You don’t think you realized how bad it was, or how noticeable it was until you hear his voice in this moment, seeing the way his jaw clenches and his eyebrows twitch as he furrows them in concentration.

You hurt him.

Shame fills you as you struggle to figure out what to say to him. It’s the same kind you felt this morning when you noticed how happy he seemed to be when he saw you. God, you were foolish to think you could get away with this. Stupid enough to even avoid him in the first place—as if it would solve anything, when in reality it made you feel worse. You suppose you didn’t realize just how much his absence in your life has affected you. An absence that you created.

You can’t find a response, so the two of you sit quietly as he finishes cleaning your wound—breathing being the only sounds coming from you both. Joel reaches down to grab the needle and thread from the first aid kit you had opened on your bathroom floor beside your feet, then breaks the silence.

“Should take me just a few minutes to get this stitched up,” he says.

You nod—your mind elsewhere until you find the strength to speak to him finally, reaching your hands up to his own with the intention of taking over. “I can do that bit. You don’t need to be spending any more time kneeling on the floor–”

“Can you just let me do this?”

Joel’s eyes make contact with yours as he frustratedly speaks up, the firmness in his voice making your mouth close shut. His face portrays the determination you are so used to seeing on him—knowing that when he looks at you like that, there’s no point arguing with him.

You give him a weak nod, and he immediately looks down to begin stitching you up, his calloused hands placing themselves so gently on your arm. “Shouldn’t hurt that bad. You lemme know if ya need me to stop.”

Bracing yourself for the first initial prick of the needle going into your skin, you let out a soft wince as he begins working on your wound before the pain becomes familiar enough for you to not feel uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you softly say after a moment, but you both know you aren’t talking about the injury, or him kneeling on the cold, hard tiled floor to help you.

You hear him inhale in through his nose, giving you a sign that he heard you, that he knows what you mean, and to continue. “I— I didn’t mean to avoid you. I just… had some things on my mind that I needed to work through and figure out on my own for a bit.”

His eyes lift up to yours, briefly looking down to your lips before back up again. He sighs out what seems to have been a breath he was holding in for a while and his shoulders sag. “Why didn’t you just say that? I would’ve understood. I thought… thought I did somethin’ to ya. Thought you, I don’t know… hated me.”

You quickly shake your head, his words making your heart crack. “No. No, of course not, Joel. I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make me hate you. I’m sorry I made you worry. I didn’t mean to.”

He lets out a soft laugh and looks back down to your shoulder as he picks up his delicate movements. “Darlin’, I’m always gonna worry ‘bout ya. You ain’t nothin’ but trouble sometimes,” he adds with a teasing smirk.

Your mind feels fuzzy at that word again. Darlin’. You focus on how gently he’s interacting with you right now. How vulnerable he seems to be at this moment.

How close he is to you…

You let him finish stitching up your wound and watch him do so silently, looking at the crook on the bridge of his nose—how many times did he break it for there to be a permanent indent? You take the opportunity of having him be so close to you to continue letting your eyes roam over his face, watching the concentrated look as he diligently works on your stitches. You look at the scar on the right side of his temple—admire how strands of his hair are curled towards the front of his face, almost as if they were tousled. It’s a reminder to you of how he said he was worried.

“Ya know, m’sure you got prettier things around this room to be starin’ at,” Joel says, interjecting your thoughts and examinations.

You freeze for a second, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had caught you admiring him in his peripheral. He looks up at you after a moment with a smirk, showcasing that he was teasing you.

Your embarrassment diminishes as you breathe out a laugh. “Unfortunately my mirror isn’t angled towards myself right now,” you try to joke.

Joel barks out a laugh at that. “Suppose that makes me the lucky one then—gettin’ the prettiest thing in the room as my view.”

His words make your cheeks go red, causing your insides to do a flip. For a moment you think the words slipped from Joel—accidentally voicing his inner thoughts without meaning to—because his eyes widen briefly as they flicker from your shoulder, over to your own eyes. You almost think you see his own cheeks go red, but his gaze settling on you makes you shyly look to the floor, unable to hold eye contact.

Joel clears his throat and leans away. “Alright, m’done. Not the best stitchin’ you’ve ever seen, but it does the job.”

You look down to your shoulder, taking note of the fine stitching before lifting your eyes back to him. “It’s better than what I would’ve been able to do,” you huff out. “Thank you.”

He leans down, placing the needle and thread back into your kit. “Yeah, it’d be even better if ya let a real doctor do it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you in a playful scold.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know. I won’t do stupid shit like this anymore unless you’re there to witness all of it. Sound fair?”

He gives you a laugh in return before standing up with a grunt. “Far too old to be on my knees like this, god.”

You wince, feeling bad once again. “I told you, you didn’t have to be on the floor—plus, you’re not that old.”

Joel looks down at you with a flat look. “Yeah, darlin’, you go and tell my bones that.”

“Hey, mine feel the same—especially right now,” you say as you wince while trying to get the strength to stand up, bracing your palms on the edge of the bathtub at your sides.

Joel reaches out saying, “Here, lemme help you,” as he grabs you by your forearms to gently pull you up to a standing position. Finally up, he moves to let go of you, but you stumble at the loss of support and feel his arm wrap around your waist to keep you steady.

“Whoa, you okay, darlin’?” He asks, concerned.

You shake your head to dismiss his concerns, looking at your feet as you try to find your balance again while grasping his arms to keep you grounded. “I’m fine, just my own bones telling me I’m getting old,” you laugh as you look up at him.

What you find is that his face is incredibly close to yours, and you realize that the two of you have your chests pressed up against each other. You take in a shaky breath as you feel his arm around your waist slide a bit until his hand lays at your hip—an attempt to help you stay steady, you tell yourself. Your shirt had lifted up slightly, a sliver of your skin peaking out, causing your body to shiver when you feel his warm, rough hand on your side.

You notice Joel’s jaw clench before his eyes travel down to your mouth for the second time tonight. He looks back up after only a second before he clears his throat and takes a step back—his hand slowly sliding off your side, making you selfishly mourn the loss of comfort his touch provided you.

He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, breaking the silence to say, “I, um, I’ll let ya get cleaned up and dressed for the night. I'll just be waitin’ downstairs for you when you’re done. Take your time, alright?”

You nod and watch as he walks out of your bathroom, hearing him make his way back downstairs.

What the fuck just happened?

Once in the shower, you let yourself stand under the hot water and relish in the feeling of washing away the remnants from the day's events, as well as calming your nerves over your moment with Joel before.

Is that what you would call it? A moment? What did you even mean by that?

If your conversation with Maria hadn’t been stuck in your mind enough lately, tonight made your thoughts grow. Except they didn’t seem to get worse, but rather, the memory of her words seem to soothe your anxiety now—letting you feel some sort of peace at how you think and feel.

When you feel as though you are fully clean, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off before heading into your bedroom to get dressed. Your eyes widen briefly at the realization that Joel had come into your bedroom. Not like that, of course, but just… He never had come in before, and your room had quickly become your safe space. Ellie hadn’t even been in here—the most she’s seen of your personal space being your office in the room neighboring your bedroom so she could look through your books and vinyls.

After getting dressed for the night, you look at your clock on your bedside table to see that it’s been almost an hour since you had gotten into the shower. You widen your eyes as you realize how much time had passed by as you were consumed with your thoughts for so long, and how Joel said he would wait for you downstairs until you were finished.

You begin to rush downstairs, calling out, “Joel, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize how long I had been. I didn’t mean to make you wait so…” You cut yourself off as you reach the bottom of the steps to see your door is… fine?

“Long…” you finish.

You peer into the living room to find no sign of Joel until your eyes settle on the kitchen light shining into the hallway. Your senses pick up on the sounds of someone moving around in your kitchen, and the smell of food being made.

Walking over to your kitchen, you look in to find Joel standing over your stove while mixing something in a pot. Having spotted you, he shyly looks up at you before saying, “Hey, sorry to ransack through your kitchen but I figured you were hungry, so, thought I might make us some dinner.”

You take a second to take in the scene before you—the domesticity of it fogging your mind. Joel speaks up again to say, “I made some soup, in case you still weren’t feelin’ good.”

Then, that damn guilt eats at you again, creeping its way back. “Joel, I, uh… lied. I wasn’t really sick.”

Looking at his profile, you see him smirk before looking back at you. “Yeah, I know. Never seen a sick person with so much color in their face when I dropped off soup for you earlier this week.”

Your face falls at his admittance. “You’re such an ass,” you say as you walk over to slump into a chair at your kitchen table.

He laughs as he goes to turn the stove off, taking out two bowls from your cabinets and grabbing a ladle to use to pour the soup in your bowls. He brings them over to you to set one bowl in front of your seat and another in front of a chair on the side of the table besides you. Before sitting down, he goes to grab two spoons from one of your drawers and then walks over to a bottle of wine you have sitting on your countertop. “You mind if I open this? Figure you could use a drink after today.”

“God, yes, please.”

He smiles before grabbing the bottle and coming over to set your utensils down. He fills two glasses with wine for each of you and sits down beside you. Your table being a small square shaped one meant that him sitting to the spot on your left made for his right knee to be pressed against your left one.

“How’s your shoulder lookin’?”

“Brand new,” you say. Looking in the direction of your front door, you add, “Just like my door that I seem to remember hearing you break down.”

He gives you a small smile before looking up at you with warm, brown eyes. “Yeah… Figured that out of everythin’ I’ve fixed in your house, that that was one I really owed ya for. Got it done real quick while you were in the shower.”

You remember how much time had passed and begin to tell him, “Right, yeah. Sorry again for taking so long. I really didn’t realize–”

He cuts you off with a warm laugh. “Darlin’, I promise you, you’re fine. Gave me a chance to work on that quickly so you aren't left feelin’ unsafe in your home for the night, and I got to make us some dinner.”

You let his words soothe away your guilt. “Thanks, Joel. Not just for dinner, but also for helping me in the first place tonight. And for fixing my door… even if you were the one to break it in the first place.”

He laughs in response and you find yourself matching him. The two of you continue to finish dinner while making light conversation, asking him about his week and what he was up to. His mention of Ellie makes your eyes widen in realization.

“Oh my god, Ellie. I didn’t even– If you need to leave, that’s okay, I know it’s late–”

He quickly reassures you, something you’re realizing he not only does a lot but also does so successfully. “She’s at Cat’s tonight so no need to worry. On my own tonight so you gave me somethin’ to do besides sit and stare at my wall. Although, m’not sure that I really enjoyed the sight of you covered in blood on your bathroom floor as a way to spend my Saturday night.”

You wince out a smile at him. “Yeah, fair enough.” Opening your mouth to speak again, Joel cuts you off.

“Darlin’, if you say sorry to me one more damn time, I’m gonna break that door again.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh… and another apology. “You got it, Miller.”

At that, he gives you a smile and goes to take your empty bowls as he stands up. “No, let me take these,” you interject, standing and reaching for the items in his hands. He frowns as he goes to move his hands away from yours before you give him a look. “Joel, you stitched up a gunshot in my shoulder, made me dinner, and fixed my door. Let me wash my damn dishes.”

He eyes you for a moment before seeming to give up. “Fine, but I’m washin’. You’re dryin’. And don’t even try to make a fuss about that because you shouldn’t be movin’ your shoulder that much right now anyways.”

You playfully roll your eyes before giving in and letting him wash while you dry. Though you couldn’t help but laugh as he ended up putting up the dishes himself after you dried them, saying something about, “Reachin’ up to put things away will rip your stitches.”

After finishing cleaning up dinner, he looks at the clock hanging on your kitchen wall and turns to you. “It’s gettin’ late, and you need to rest after today.” Joel eyes you for a moment before adding, “Promise me you’ll let me know if your stitches break or anythin’?”

“I promise,” you say before he gives you a squinted look to make sure you’re telling the truth. You hold out your right hand to him with your pinky out. He looks down at your hand offering a childish interaction and raises an eyebrow at you with amusement. “Is that a pinky promise? Haven’t had someone pull that on me since Sarah.”

You nod with a dramatic show of seriousness, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “I’ll have you know that pinky promises are the only kind of promises that I’ll accept.”

His resolve crumbles as his lips turn up at the corners before you see his eyes glint as a teasing thought crosses his mind. “You implyin’ to me that every promise you’ve made before now didn’t count?”

Looking off to the side, you fumble trying to figure out a reply, but he saves you by reaching out and wrapping his own pinky around yours—warm and firm. “Promise,” he says.

You smile before letting go and walking towards the door, Joel in suit behind.

“Thanks for tonight, Joel,” you say as you open your door and he steps through. Turning back to look at you, he says, “No problem, you have a good night, now.”

You watch as he turns away from you and begins to walk down your front porch steps. Your eyebrows furrow as you realize something is different about this moment, and that it’s your doing. Usually, Joel never left you at any moment before clarifying he’ll see you tomorrow or on patrol the next time you were scheduled together. But tonight, he didn’t, and you realize it’s the result of your own actions.

“Joel,” you call out.

He turns back to you as he reaches the bottom of the steps, his face confused as to what is wrong. “Yeah?”

Trying to fight back a smile, you ask, “So… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The confusion disappears from his face as you watch him fighting back his own smile, but that only causes your own internal barrier to fail. “Of course, anythin’ you want.”

You nod, your smile growing bigger. “Good. Night, Joel.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You watch him as he walks across the road to make sure he gets in his house okay before closing your own door, finally feeling at peace with yourself after the anxiety you had felt all week.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: gonna get sentimental for a second. i've recently gotten a lot of people reading and enjoying my story and it seriously warms my heart. the last chapter, chapter six, was one that i really loved but didn't think people would enjoy it that much because joel wasn't in it and it was shorter. so, i released it as a mid-week mini chapter thinking it wouldn't be received as well as the others. then i posted it, and on both ao3 and tumblr, so many comments talked about how wholesome the chapter was and that y'all enjoyed it. idk why but that made me so happy because i was so confident people wouldn't care much for it, but i truly didn't mind because i knew that i liked it. anyways BLAH ty all for being so kind. mwah, ily. be kind to yourselves <3 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @lcvespedro @heartpatch @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tmh series

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year ago

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Imagine Zuko when you’re paralysed with fear at the sight of Azula…

It had been a peaceful morning just like the previous two days - until the ground quaked violently. Eyes flew open at the imminent danger and Aang was quick enough to deflect an incoming fireball as the rest of the group scrambled to their feet.

Zuko’s eyes widened when he realised their attacker. “It’s Azula.”

You had just thrown a bag into Appa’s saddle when you heard him and ice trickled through your body. Stumbling back, you accidentally stepped on Momo’s tail to which he screeched and then nursed in his little paws.

You would have apologised. You would have done anything but you stood frozen with fear clawing at your throat seizing all breath.

There was a series of calls for you but it was fuzzy to your ears - all but one. Golden eyes found themselves in your line of vision until it was all you could see. A warm hand against your waist, another on your cheek giving off a natural heat that thawed you for a few moments to focus.

“Look at me. You need to get on the saddle, okay? I’ll handle this.” Zuko said.

You took in a small breath, apparently you were still alive and breathing. Unable to find the words, you blinked and it was enough for the Prince.

He gently but quickly urged you towards the sky bison where Sokka had a hand extended. When he had yours gripped firmly, Zuko let you go and ran for the ledge to face his sister.

What happened in the moments after were a blur, there was yelling and the smell of fire and earth in the air. Appa was speeding through the valleys in order to escape and you held the side of the saddle to keep from flying off.

Just as he levelled out, you heard a voice in the air. That conceited, cold, relentless one that spent days and nights in your prison chamber. Then you heard her laugh - the very same one that echoed when spikes of lightning shot into your shackled, defenceless body until your screams forced blood.

Scrunching your eyes, you let go of the saddle and covered your ears. You didn’t care if you flew off. You just wanted to be away from her. Curling into yourself, you laid on the leather base and tried to drown out the sound.

There were shouts from somewhere above. A hand gently pressed against your arm as Appa changed flight and dipped low hard. The hot rush of air reminded you too much of the prison cell and memories began to flash. You started to drown in them, missing the additional thud of a body in the saddle.

Appa levelled out once more, still maintaining speed but the loud voices outside had reduced to softer tones - unlike the ones in your head.

Your nails dug into your scalp as your mind drowned you in the very worst trauma. And you begged for it to stop. You’d do anything for it to stop.

Something familiar moved closer, warm hands finding purchase over yours. They were steady and safe, carefully prying the tight hold away. A muffled voice made its way through your head and worked a soothing balm across the chaos.

Finally, you could feel a line between the past and reality. And you fought hard to stay in the land of the latter.

The air around you had cooled. Your cheeks felt wet and your hands were holding onto a soft fabric that smelled of home.

It was enough to finally pull you out of the haze and understand where you were.

Zuko was laying with you. His arms wrapped protectively, body flush against yours. His head nuzzled by your neck while his mouth whispered to you alone.

He was telling you a story about a prince who promised to give his life to protect the love of his life.

“You’re the love of mine.” He said with a gentle squeeze. “You will always be and I will never let you hurt like that again. I promise.”

~ More imagines here ~ (for more ATLA)

A/n: 2.5 hours sleep works wonders sometimes…

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar imagine #atla x reader #atla imagine

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kevin-the-bruyne · 7 months ago

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one of the things that I loved about the fadelstyle stalker date was that despite all of the conflict, style seemed to be the first person that showed an interest in fadel's life - like a genuine hey are you having a good time with your activities level of interest.

He showed up to the restaurant to watch him prep and make commentary. Fadel went all brooding and knife-ey on him sure but we dont see him pull out those biceps that we already know can drag style out.

He calls him chef and helps him out, doing exactly the job that we see Bison abandon earlier in the episode - when was the last time someone made fadel feel like he was something other than a cold blooded killer?

And then you remember that style and fadel have already had this heartbreaking interaction in episode 1

[Screenshots from Ep1 of Style asking Fadel "You do everything yourself?" and Fadel responding "I do."]

I was never convinced that that interaction was just about the heartburgers management for fadel lol

style is going to figure out they're assassins, style tries to backtrack from the car deal when kant agrees. i think asking for the car was style's way of refusing that favor but when kant agrees he gets curious or really starts believing that kant is in love.

style is probably the most intelligent of the four but he's definitely the most emotionally intelligent of the four though it's masked by his carefree personality - and he has figured out for better or for worse that fadel is lonely, desperately so.

style asks for a list of things that fadel likes doing and the best bison comes up with is his schedule which is exactly the same everyday but bison doesn't even know. and style makes it work. he tries to create intimacy at the burger shop in ep1 with fadel and it fails and when he's handed a schedule that is 70% fadel either prepping for or being at the burger shop, style comes back with companionship on offer.

when bison said fadel's insides need a beating, style correctly interprets it as put that man through the mortifying ordeal of being known and he really does it in a way that's not random. The random method failed so now he's trying to understand fadel, something that fadel hasn't experienced in a long time if he ever has.

And the cookie crumbles in less than a day. fadel should feel some embarassment for how easy it was?

look at fadel - he's confused. error 404 not found expression on a man if i've ever seen one. there are no internal protocols of handling this situation, so for the first time he has to rely on his instincts, instincts that were forced into ignoring and mistrusting this sort of stimulus.

fadel simply wants. the comeback of what he thought his long, dead desire (bison is the only person he's convinced himself he needs!!) and those hardened, survival instincts are at odds, and the struggle to push that impulse away, to jerk off angrily in the hopes its flushed out of his system - oh fadel i love that you're so un-normal about this.

style sets the challenge in the pursuit of fadel for himself in a way. despite having almost no information and this probably being a slightly hyperbolic statement style has surmised the stakes of this mission much better than even kant has.

style has him and im fairly certain style knows he has him...if he wants him. you've thrown your own gauntlet style so just how far are you going to go to meet that challenge?

#the heartkillers #the heart killers #fadelstyle #fadel thk #style thk #ive never seen two characters and thought #oh god they...like each other #as fast as ive done with fadelstyle #they like each other #i think style genuinely doesn't want fadel to be lonely anymore #taking on the brother's mantle from the get go #i feel like the only thing this isn't about for style is the car lol

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secriden · 7 months ago

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So I made a post theorising about Style before episode 1 dropped and I'm both pleased by how much I got right and enamoured by all the extra details we have about Style in this episode.

Style is so obnoxiously overconfident and full of undeserved swagger that it somehow flips around to being winsome. He's the very definition of "empty-headed" but in a way that makes him innocent and guileless.

Narratively he functions as a bit of a foil to Bison because they are both impulsive and naive and blunt, but where Bison's past is steeped in blood and deception and it feels like he's got tricks up his sleeve, Style is an almost painfully open book. This also stands in contrast to Kant who seems very capable of manipulation.

And while he's nearly annoyingly self-assured, who can blame him; I mean look at him. Pretty boy is so fucking pretty. I bet he rocks up to the club, leans with his back against the bar so his shirt rides up, and immediately has 3 drinks being offered to him.

I'm so glad the show makes it clear that Style was flirting with Fadel well before the deal with Kant. It both establishes how genuine his interest in Fadel is, whilst also telling us that the unhinged behaviour was all Style - he didn't need any incentive to pull the "my nipples are sensitive" line.

I also love how he's demonstratively SO BAD at flirting! At the diner, its clear he's just trying things out to see if anything will stick. He's dressed to make himself alluring: arms and side bared in that loose tank top, and he keeps making these big gestures that show his arms off. (I wonder if he drinks as much as he does partly because he starts to get nervous when nothing seems to be working. xD)

All this is good, though, specifically because Fadel would probably see more sophisticated moves as deception. Instead, I think Style's unpolished and unpredictable flirting winds up being accidentally effective because it leaves Fadel feeling unmoored.

Fadel, who is so in control of his life; who (thinks he) knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. Style makes him feel things he probably hasn't in a while. Attraction, embarrassment; but also, anger and violence. His little dramatic knife-clench moment is such a contrast to the calm, clinical way he assassinates the mob boss and I think it shows that Fadel feels his lack of control around Style - and that frightens him a little.

I like how the show signposts the ways both characters are going to have to grow as people for them to be in a relationship: Style needs to learn how to take things more seriously, to mature and temper that arrogance, and slow down and read the room/people better; Fadel needs to allow himself to let go sometimes, to have some fun for once, to face and accept the reality of his own emotions.

They both have to learn how to love and be loved, and its fascinating how ideally suited they are to teach each other these things.

And in the mean time, well, the chemistry is undeniably electric.

#the heart killers #the heart killers the series #thk meta #fadelstyle #style #fadel #style is nearly everything i wanted for this character #and dunk is doing an amazing job of portraying the balance between genuine confidence and annoying swagger #i'm intrigued about his dynamic with his dad and how that will play into things later (if it does at all)#style is the most Unserious because he balances out all the weight of the other 3 characters #yes he's the comic relief and in a show about murder and deception and betrayal he's very necessary esp for the genre we're in #all the other characters are playing 4D chess and style is just here like: so we're here to play Uno right?? ^_^#it became about fadelstyle at the end but i really do just adore style as a character in his own right too #joongdunk #dunk natachai #hui talks thk #hui talks thai bl #style meta #thk ep 1

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thelastofme-l · 14 days ago

Text

FAT LIPS

JESSE TLOU X READER

Warnings: cursing, hitting, cheating, mentions of sex, domestic violence, mentions of blood, friends to more??

Words: 5k

A/n: Hiiiii guys, I’m sorry for being MIA for a while, I’m finding it hard to sit down and write with everything going in the world. It’s also been busy in my personal life but I have so many ideas I’m working on at once for more Jesse content, I figured I would pump out this short little thing in the meantime! It is not my best work and i apologize for that but there’s more exciting stuff to come! I love you all and stay safe wherever you are 🫶🏼

When you walked into the Tipsy Bison you let the door swing hard against the wall. Luckily the music was loud, and spirits were high, so no one seemed to notice.

You scanned the crowded tables and bar, eyes landing on the familiar faces of your friends.

"There you are, we were wondering if you were ever gonna show up" Ellie teased, pointing her finger at you while holding her glass, as you slid into the booth next to Jesse, who was sitting quietly nursing his beer.

"Here I am" You declared, tucking your hair behind your ear, hoping they wouldn't notice your flushed face. You looked to Jesse's hand wrapped around his glass, "You gonna drink that?"

Instead of speaking, he slid the glass across the tabletop to you. You brought it your mouth and downed it in one big gulp, licking your lips when you were finished.

"Where's Alex?" Dina asks, wearing a confused look at your demeanor, "Still too sick to come?"

"Oh, he's coming all right," You muttered, sitting the glass back down against the wood with a thud.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I just caught him cheating on me" You let out a pitiful laugh trying your best to not cry, fidgeting with your sleeves and pulling them down over your hands.

"What" Dina smacks the table hard in surprise, and you jump, looking to her, "What you mean?"

"I stopped by his place to see if he was feeling up to drinking tonight" You explained, taking a breath before continuing, "And he was there with some red head"

Everyone knew that Alex claimed to be 'sick' for the last couple of days. Hiding out in his house on the edge of town and refusing to let anyone check on him, under the guise of not wanting to pass on his sickness. You obeyed his wishes but after almost a week you became worried. Alex had been your steady boyfriend for nearly two years, and you didn't care if he was contagious, you had to make sure he was okay.

"Who was it?" Ellie's jaw fell open as she pressed her palms to the table. Her and Dina were watching you from across the table with expectant eyes. Jesse had yet to make a sound, watching as you continued.

"She's from the group that rolled in from California the other day"

The three knew the group well. You were all often assigned with patrols and helping people get settled into Jackson. This group was only staying for a couple of weeks before embarking on their journey east. The red headed woman was a couple of years older than you.

"You're sure that he was cheating?" Ellie pressed.

They'd all known Alex as long as you had, growing up in Jackson the group was tight knit and strong. It was hard to believe he would do something like this, even if he was a dickhead the majority of the time.

"Pretty damn sure," You nod once, watching Jesse's fingers tap against the table before looking to your lap, "She was fully bent over the kitchen table, screaming his name—"

"How could he do this to you?" Dina raises her voice smacking at the table again, "I'm going to cut his fuckin' dick off"

You thought the same thing when you came through the back door and his head whipped in your direction, halting his thrusts.

"Dickhead" Ellie sighs, staring off at the bar as she digested the information you'd given.

Alex was the oldest of the group. About five years older than you and Jesse, with Dina and Ellie a couple years behind. The two guys had been close, growing up like brothers, both orphaned and taken in by Jackson long before you came around.

Throughout your teen years you developed a crush on Alex, liking the attention he gave you. It didn't help that he always flirted with you, treating you like a little plaything.

You never understood why Jesse seemed to hate Alex after announcing your relationship while he treated you like nothing had changed.

"Fuck him" Dina shouts, already a few more drinks in and a fierce protecter of her friends. She nudged at Ellie to let her out of the booth, "I'm gonna bring you his dick on a silver platter and-"

"How about you just get me a drink?" You offered a small smile, watching as Ellie took her girlfriends hand, "I could use something to take my mind off all this"

"Tequila shots coming right up" Dina beams at the thought of more drinks, saluting to you before following Ellie to the bar.

With the girls gone you dropped your head against the table, letting out a shaky sigh. You wished you were no bullshit like Ellie or confident with the 'I don't give a fuck' attitude like Dina but you weren't. You were sensitive and emotional, unfortunately wearing your heart on your sleeve.

You felt Jesse's hand on your knee, a comforting touch that helped ground you.

"Did you know?" You asked, voice echoing under the table. The thought popped into your mind as you stormed out of Alex's house. It would explain his distant behavior toward him, maybe he knew but didn't feel it was his place to tell you.

"What?"

You lifted your head, the stray tears falling off your face at the motion. Looking at him now, dark hair tucked behind his ear and brown eyes watching you closely, eyebrows pinched, "Did you know he was cheating on me?"

"Of course not," He immediately shakes his head, turning toward you slightly in the booth with his arm propped against the back of the seat, "Why would you think that?"

You sniffled, rubbing your hand over your red eyes, "You always have this tension with him now so I thought—"

"—You really think I would've kept something like that from you?" His tone was soft, not upset more pained.

"I feel like I don't know anything anymore"

It was true, you felt like a joke. How long had he been doing this to you?

"I would've told you if I knew" He cut you off. His voice unwavering. Solidifying your trust in him. Even as kids Jesse was never able to lie to you.

"Has he always hooked up with girls from the groups passing in and out of Jackson?" You pressed, elbows against the table as you rubbed your temples.

"Yes," His jaw ticked, eyes flicking toward the bar before he continued, "Before you two started seeing each other. It was his thing"

"Not yours?" You laughed, but nothing was funny. You turned in the booth to face him fully, the world outside of the window behind him was dark, small fires scattered to light the street up.

He sighed, "He has always liked no commitment"

You knew that. Jesse had tried to warn you when you told him you were thinking about finally giving in to Alex's advances. You didn't believe him then, too wrapped up in the attention he gave you.

With your back to the rest of the bar it was like the rest of the world shut out. The space between the two of you calm and quiet despite the band playing toward the back of the building.

You had a hard time hiding your emotions around him, especially when his eyes seemed to read right into what you were thinking.

His gaze softened. "Are you okay?"

"Not really" You shake your head, lip quivering. Desperately wanting to let the flood gates open.

"Do you want me to take you home?" He asked, voice gentle as he watched a few more stray tears roll down your face. He was reaching out to swipe them away when you jumped at Dina's voice from behind.

"Alright bitches, it's time to get drunk" She cheered, with Ellie in tow as she carried a platter of small shot glasses and a jar of moonshine.

You gave Jesse a small smile, hurriedly wiping at your wet cheeks before turning back to sit normally.

An hour and too many shots later you were feeling the alcohol settling in. Your nerves had settled enough to find yourself giggling at Dina's exaggerated story. Your cheeks warm, and headache taking a back seat.

At some point you had moved closer to Jesse, feeling his leg brush up against yours under the table. He didn't seem to mind as he swirled the liquid in his glass, adding important details to Dina's story, that'd he'd heard a million times. He'd taken about two shots before switching back to his beer.

"I swear to god I had this infected right in front of me and I never saw—" Dina's story stopped short as her eyes tracked something by the door, "Just the motherfucker I wanted to see"

You turned, seeing Alex looking around the building, the same way you had when you first came in. You spun back around to face your friends, hoping he hadn't seen you, "I don't wanna talk to him"

Dina moved to push Ellie out of the booth, but was stopped with Ellie's a firm hand on her thigh.

"You don't have to talk to him" Jesse assured, watching him walk to the bar and grab a drink.

"He's going to try and sit with us," Ellie leaned over the table slightly so you could hear her over the music, "Do you want just want to leave?"

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you shook your head. You were not going to run away and let him ruin the time you were having. Fuck Alex.

"Here," Jesse instructed sitting back against the booth to make room between himself and the table, "Swap me"

"What?"

"Swap me places so he can't sit next to you" Jesse explained, nodding at the space like an invitation. The space was small and you were drunk. When you went to move across his lap you nearly fell over, knees hitting hard against the table and hands catching yourself on his thighs momentarily, back pressed against his chest. His hands moved to your waist, firm and strong as he moved you the rest of the way across him and helped you sit back on the booth, now next to the window.

With Jesse now on the outside and Ellie and Dina across the table you felt loved, knowing that your friends cared about you.

"Didn't know we were having a drinking night guys," Alex addressed the whole table with his drink in hand before zeroing in on you, "Hey baby"

You were suddenly nervous, heartbeat picking up, the happy spirits leaving you.

No one at the table responded. You were staring at the table top, reaching for the last shot and throwing it back as the other 3 stared at him.

"Can we talk?" He sighed after a beat, staring as you crossed your arms and leaned your head against the cool surface of the window.

"She doesn't wanna talk to you" Ellie answered for you, shooting daggers at him.

"Y/n," He ignored her, setting his beer on the edge of the table and leaning against it with both hands holding him up, "Y/n, look at me"

You turned away even further, looking out the window and feeling tears stinging your eyes. You blinked them away refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

"Baby I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't in the right headspace" Alex spoke, surely aware that you had already told the others by their overall demeanor.

"Big emotions for such a little guy," Dina raised her voice, trying to stand from the table again, "You're a real piece of—"

"Enough" Jesse said calmly to Dina, before finally looking up at someone he used to call his friend, "She clearly doesn't wanna talk to you"

"Clearly," Alex mocks, sending daggers at the side of your head before looking to Jesse, "You think you can speak for her all of a sudden?"

Alex was getting upset, you could tell by his voice. Sounding vaguely similar to the nights he drank too much and got too loud with you.

"Why don't you just leave?" Ellie argued, "Give her some space man"

"—Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" He bit back.

"How about you fuck—" Dina tried to stand again.

"My god, fine," You interrupted, smacking a hand on the table and finally looking at him, "What do you wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"Us?" You laughed, feeling your head spin. "Sure let's talk about us"

"Privately" He demanded.

You nodded once as Alex picked up his beer again and took a long sip, eyeing Jesse as he did.

"You sure about this?" Ellie asked, looking to you then to Jesse who was still looking at Alex.

"Might as well get it out of the way, it's fine," You shrugged, nudging Jesse's arm with your own, "Can you let me out?"

He listened, standing up in front of Alex. Jesse was much bigger than him, taller with more muscle.

You stumbled, the drinks fully hitting you as you stood upright. He reached for your hand and you recoiled away from him, "Talking does not require touching"

"Let's step outside" Alex nodded, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

You nodded, taking another glance at your friends before following him.

The air outside of the Tipsy Bison felt cool on your face and you sighed, looking toward the window to see Jesse, Ellie and Dina to your left.

You stopped walking, turning back toward Alex with your arms crossed, "Go ahead and talk"

"Babygirl, I—"

You laughed, "I can't even begin to explain how I am not your babygirl"

"Listen, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Sorry you did it or sorry you got caught" You argued, the drinks causing you to sway slightly in front of him.

"You know I never meant to hurt you. I just–well I don't know what came over me" He was taking steps closer to you, "I know we can fix this"

"This?" You echo, motioning clumsily between the two of you, "There is no fixing this. You fucked another girl"

"Baby don't—"

"How many times?" You pressed, pushing him away when he tried to reach out to you.

"Look I know you're mad at me right now but don't punish us baby"

"Stop calling me that," You were shouting now, pushing at his chest hard to get him away from you, "It's over"

In a quick move he had caught your wrists in a tight grip. You tried to pull back but he used the leverage to bring you closer to him, "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying"

"Let. Go. Of. Me." You spit through gritted teeth, thrashing to get free.

You heard the door to the Tipsy Bison open, the music becoming clear before the door shut and it was muffled again. You didn't have to look behind you to see who it was.

"Let her go Alex," Jesse's voice echoed in the quiet night air, "Be a man and go home"

"She's drunk," Alex called over your shoulder, "I'm going to take her back to my place so she can sleep it off"

"No you're not" Jesse argued, stepping forward.

"Fuck—Jesse, this has nothing to do with you" Alex shouted, suddenly clenching his hands onto you, the grip becoming tighter the more angry he became, "Why don't you just mind your own damn business"

"You're hurting me" You whined, stumbling as he yanked you toward away from where Jesse was standing.

You could see Jesse now, as he moved in a flash, putting himself between you and Alex, breaking the grip he had on you.

Before you could even fully comprehend what happened, Alex had cocked his arm back and sent a hard punch to Jesse's face.

"You son of a bitch" You yelled, moving around Jesse before he could stop you and slapped him across the face.

He had never hit you before, so when you felt the stinging heat over your face you couldn't believe it. The momentum of his backhand sent you onto the gravel.

Jesse heard the hit and reacted quick. You weren't sure what happened but you knew they were on the ground and Jesse was on top of him, grunting accompanying the sick sound of his fist making contact with Alex.

The skin underneath your hand throbbed and your head was spinning bad. The alcohol not helping the panic you were feeling. Dina and Ellie appeared from thin air, Dina helping you to your feet while Ellie grabbed Jesse's arm, mid punch.

There was hushed conversation between the two as Dina moved your hand so she could look at you. The skin was red with a small amount of blood where his ring sliced your lip.

"You'll be okay," She slurred still able to function as if she were sober as she examined you.

You didn't respond, quite literally in shock at what had happened. Instead you looked over to see Alex lying on the ground, holding his side. Jesse and Ellie were standing in front of you now.

"She’ll have a fat lip and it’s going to bruise pretty bad but it'll heal"

Jesse said something to Ellie before reaching out and touching your shoulder, "Come on, I'll take you home"

You nodded, falling in step beside him using his arm for support. After you were out of ear shot of the girls you let out a shaky breath, "I don't wanna be alone, can I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah, of course you can"

After a short walk in complete silence you were in his kitchen as he used a wet cloth to clean up the small amount of blood had dripped from your mouth.

He was close to you as you sat on his counter, legs crossed and fingers pulling at the loose thread of your long sleeved top.

The punch that he had taken from Alex left his lip bloody and slightly swollen but he didn't seem to care, “Looks like we are twins”

"Has he done that to you before tonight" Jesse asked, voice soft as he furrowed his brows, tentatively pressing the cloth.

"Never" You whispered. Then, in the silence of his home and with no pressure to keep up a strong front you looked at him, "Came close a couple of times when he would drink but never that far"

His jaw clenched when you winced at the cloth touching a sensitive spot.

"I'm sorry"

You blinked, "For what?"

"For making you think you couldn't tell me about that kind of thing" He says simply, moving to grab the ice pack that he had set on the counter.

"It's not that," You breathed, "I just—you guys were such good friends and I didn't want to get in between that"

"Were" Jesse corrected, muttering another apology as you hissed at the cold sensation on your face.

Any tears you thought you might've cried were gone. The betrayal you felt of Alex cheating on you dissolved the second he hit you.

You took a breath, gaze darting to his lips from his eyes, suddenly becoming aware of just how close he was standing to you.

You took the ice pack from his hands, ignoring the strange sensation of his fingers against yours as you touched his lip with it, "Thanks for stepping in back there"

"Don't thank me for that" He mumbled speaking around the ice pack, watching your movements, "It should've happened a long time ago, I've been wanting to have a go at Alex for a while now"

"Well I'm still sorry," You whispered, feeling guilt for all the drama and his fat lip, "I feel so stupid about all this"

"Don't say that," He whispered, pulling back away from the ice pack to speak clear, his hands falling on your knees, "You were too good for him anyways"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" He nodded, looking over at the clock on the wall after his eyes lingered on your lips too long.

A couple hours later, you were laid out on his couch wearing the shirt and boxers he had lent you to sleep in. Your legs spread out across his lap. An old VHS tape played on the small tv he'd found years back in the attic of whoever lived in this house before the outbreak.

You were fidgeting on the cushions, trying to hold the ice pack against your mouth. In the calm of his house you felt relaxed but the events of the night still lingered in your mind. And you were painfully aware of his hand that was causally resting on your shin.

"I had a feeling that he was screwing around behind my back" You say your thoughts out loud, watching the actors on the screen.

"For how long?"

"A couple months" You sighed, "I caught him in the stables with a girl a while back, somehow let him convince me I didn't see what I saw"

Jesse nodded, not sure what to say. Instead of letting the silence linger, you continued, "I should've wised up back then"

"Why didn't you?" He asked, voice curious rather than brimming with judgment.

You turned slightly to your back, staring yo at the ceiling. His hand moving around your leg in small soothing motions made you want sprint around the room.

"I guess knowing he was interested in me, him being older and everything, just felt like I would be crazy to leave him especially after 2 years"

"You deserve someone who doesn't make you feel trapped" Jesse eyes you briefly before looking back to the movie.

"I'm done with this ice pack," You sighed, standing and walking into the kitchen. If you didn't move out of the room soon you weren't sure you would make it. You placed the pack back in the freezer, sticking your head inside for a moment to clear your mind, but you couldn't stop thinking about the way Jesse was making you feel.

Where was this coming from? Had you always felt butterflies at his touch or sound of his voice? Did tonight change something between the two of you?

For a long time you weren't sure what it was about him. Why you felt so comfortable with him or why he became distant when you and Alex started dating. Wondering if he knew that you noticed the way his eyes would linger on you or how he would flex his hands when near you, like he wanted to reach out and touch you. How your heart soared when he put himself between you and Alex, defending you against him.

Wondering if he knew you had a little crush on him since you first met him back all those years ago. But he was your best friend. Maybe it was the liquor still present in your body but you felt brave.

You didn't linger on thought too long, afraid you would talk yourself out of what you were going to do as you walked back to the living room.

He had his head rested back, the light from the tv dancing over his face as he watched you stand in front of him, "You okay?"

"Mhm" You nodded, knowing if you waited any longer you would second guess yourself. So instead you moved onto his lap, thighs on either side of him.

"Hey," He stiffened under you immediately sitting up, keeping his hands on the armrests, "Hey—what're you doing?"

"Nothing" You whispered, feeling the same butterflies you felt earlier in the booth of the when you moved across his lap. "I just wanna try something"

You could hear his breath catch in his throat as you watched him. When you noticed his nervous fidgeting on his leg you catch his hand and place it on the small of your back, an invitation. "Is that okay?"

He nodded, letting you move his other hand to rest on the top of your thigh.

You smiled at him, slowly moving your hand to his arm dragging it up the length of his arm all the way to the side of his neck.

He watched you, eye brows pinched and jaw set. Like he was being held at gunpoint.

You leaned forward agonizingly slow, still testing the waters as he watched you. He whispers your name, as smooth as butter.

You moved your hand to cup his cheek, thumb grazing over his fat lip. He didn't react when you touched it despite the little amount of blood that was pooling around the edge of the cut.

"Your poor lip" You cooed, distracted by the swollen redness, watching it roll under your soft touch.

"I-It's okay," Jesse rushed, shifting under you uncontrollably like he was going to stand up. He quickly changed the subject, "How does yours feel?"

You sigh, ignoring him, still feeling the liquid courage as you catch his gaze, eyes scanning all over his face.

"Tell me if you want to stop" You whispered, breath fanning over his lips as you moved closer ever so slightly.

When he didn't answer you glanced up at his eyes and back down at his lips. When your lips finally sealed against his, you tilted your head. You felt his hand flex against your thigh but he still didn't fully move it.

The metallic taste of the blood from his lip mixing with yours was addicting as you pressed closer, kissing at his bottom lip gently as your other hand moved to cup his cheek.

Pulling back enough to look over his face, you felt a pang of embarrassment, his eyes open and staring at you. That is until he leaned in toward you, catching your lips with his own. He kissed you back, lips massaging over yours. You smiled finally feeling his hand finally move, gliding up your arm to touch your face. The feeling leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Suddenly his lips moved against yours harder in more desperate manner, his body reacting to your touch as you carded your fingers into his hair.

You parted his lips with your tongue, tasting every inch of his mouth like you'd always imagined. He tasted of blood and the beer.

You hummed against his lips, feeling a sense of success when he came out of his shell and moved his tongue against yours, soft circular motions.

The pure pleasure you were feeling at just the feeling of his lips on yours was driving you crazy. You adjusted slightly on his lap, moving closer to him when you felt his hands drop from your face and fall to your hips holding you in place.

He broke the kiss, leaning his head back against the chair, breathing uneven.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked, pulling back in a daze hands sitting flush against his chest.

"No—" He sighed, realizing his hands were still on your hips and moving them quick as if you were poisonous, "I—we should probably—"

His words caught in his throat as you leaned forward, lips finding his neck and kissing along the expanse there.

"Should probably what?" You teased, tongue leaving a wet trail from his collarbone to his ear where you whispered.

Your name fell from his lips again only this time with a warning tone you had yet to hear from Jesse, you ignored it.

You made your way along his jawline before finding his lips again and kissing them just was you rolled your hips slowly against his lap.

He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking you off in the process as he tossed you back onto the couch.

"What's wrong" You whined, bouncing on the worn out cushions as you looked up at him.

He didn't answer, putting physical distance between the two of you.

"Jesse" You warned, standing up in the dark living room, the couch now empty, "If I'm reading into this please just tell me, I don't like looking stupid"

Jesse was nervous, in a way you had never seen him before, rubbing at the back of his neck and trying to not make eye contact with you.

"Oh god" You cried out, hands covering your face as you paced the floor, "I'm so goddamn stupid"

"You're not stupid" Jesse said softly, still keeping his distance from you.

"I am," You cried out again stopping in front of him, "You're my best friend. Fuck—I thought we had this tension—and now I fucked up everything"

"You have such a unique way of misunderstanding things"

"I'm not misunderstanding anything, I crossed a line between our friendship and I should have never—" Jesse crossed the room, grabbing your chin and kissing you again, in an effort to stop your rambling.

It was a gentle, quick kiss, pressed against your lips and gone before you had a chance to react. You sighed, snapping yourself out of the moment, "Don't kiss me out of pity"

Jesse rolled his eyes, taking your shoulders and pushing you back gently until your back hits the wall.

He angled your face up toward his so he had a better position to kiss you. This time he was the one leaning in slow, making you wait in anticipation. He peeked your lips once before parting your lips, running his tongue along your mouth. He was using more pressure than before, hands on either side of your head against the wall.

You sighed into the kiss, tasting the saltiness of your stray tears mixing with his salvia. When he felt your hands slide across the plane of his shoulders and interlock behind his neck he knew you were understanding.

"You had a rough night," He pulled back, breath fanning over your face as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "And you're drunk"

"I'm not drunk" You argued, challenging him just as you hiccuped.

"Okay I'm a little drunk," He tilted his head at you, as you let out another whine holding your hand in between the two of you, using your thumb and pointer finger to gauge an amount, "maybe this much"

Jesse tried to hide his smile at you, holding his hand beside yours and making a sound with his tongue as he adjusted your fingers so the space between them was larger, "I think this much"

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in to kiss him as he pulled back, teasing you. Then you dropped your head, suddenly laughing when you touched your lip, “I can’t believe we have matching fat lips”

He let out a breathy laugh, unable to hide his little dimple as he watched you.

“It’s sorta like fate don’t ya think?”

"I think you should get some sleep"

"I can't go sleep," You whined, fingers grabbing for his shirt, "Not when I've been waiting for a night like this since we were kids"

Jesse leaned forward, pressing a another quick kiss to your lips, "That makes two of us"

"No way" You giggled.

"Yes way" He whispered, nodding when he pushed himself from the wall, "Why do you think Alex and I didn't get along after you started dating"

You caught his hands, swinging them slowly as he took off the wall with him.

"If I let you sleep in my bed will you keep your hands to yourself?" Jesse hummed, glancing toward his bedroom in the back of the house.

"No promises"

#jesse the last of us #jesse tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou2 #young mazino #hbo max #isabela merced #joel tlou #the last of us hbo

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remxedmoon · 1 year ago

Text

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!

#marshdoodles #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #inscryption #isatscryption #in stars and scrybes #HHHH this was a LONG ONE #goddd i should not be writing these all in one go. these’re gonna have like 3 hour gaps between each post i think #but i’m writing them all at once. my head hurty #i was thinking of separating these into 2 different posts #but ehh… they’re too Linked for me to post them separately. they’re the same card!!#isa’s card art definitely pushes the pseudo-inscryption art style a bit but he looked too pretty for me to change him #out of all the cards i think he took the longest? don’t quote me on that #the custom sigil + patch issues inflated that a bit

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tofics · 10 months ago

Text

Broken - Chapter 6

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes… Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he’ll never get.

Word Count: 3433 words

This chapter is very dark. Reader discretion is advised.

Warnings: violence (knife at throat, choking through knee on chest), clear intentions of killing, blood, clear mention of SA (usage of the r-word), panic attack, throwing up, cursing.

Chapter 6 - Nightmare Knocking On Your Door

"YOU." Spit flies from your lips as you scream into the man's face, foaming at your mouth. The knife you're pressing into his throat is already drawing blood, the blade pressed against the skin so tightly that it's being split open by the sharp edge. It's taking every ounce of strength in you not to slice him open right there and then.

You barely register his female companion crying out and staggering towards you before she's pulled out of your view. Then someone drops to their knees besides you. "Whoa whoa whoa, hey, why don't we put the knife away?" Tommy's voice is gentle, clearly meant to ease you down, but you only hiss in response, never taking your eyes off your prey.

You've waited so long for this moment.

You dreamt of it so many times; so many versions where the outcome is always the same: you, taking his life.

One Hour Earlier

Springtime in Jackson is nothing but beautiful.

Joel and you returned to Jackson a week earlier. Although your mission was unfruitful, you still came carrying gifts and trinkets. None of the ranches you hit up had any cows to offer, but a few of them still had quite a bit of resources scattered around to loot from.

Betsy received two relatively in-shape backpacks that you found, filled with all kinds of knick-knacks that can be helpful out in the wild.

The Tipsy Bison got a fresh batch of whiskey, found stashed away in what was presumably a 'man-cave' a long time ago.

The chalk, skipping ropes and board game you found went to the school where they're received with joy and excitement.

The thing you were most excited about though was a stash of Savage Starlight comics that you found in an abandoned library. When Joel told you about Ellie's love for them, there was no question that they'd be coming with you, weight be damned.

Ellie was ecstatic and wrapped you in a bear hug that made you all fuzzy and hurting inside at the same time. Despite the hurt, you hugged her right back.

Everyone else was grateful for their deliveries as well.

You've come to love this little town, there's no doubt about it. This place is as close to the old world as it comes, if someone put a spin on it and cranked up the equality setting. Everyone chips in, everyone gets something out of it. It actually fucking works.

It's always bustling, no matter the season, but now that the colors are changing from white and gray and brown to blue skies and green and specks of color here and there, provided by the odd early flower, it's almost something out of a fairytale. Some days you're convinced Snow White will come around a corner with a bunch of forest animals trailing behind her.

That's not to say life is easy. You're not delusional about the world outside of the town's walls, it's still an apocalyptic shit-show out there, run by raiders and infected. But it's out there and you're in here. In a community that looks out for its members. With a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and a warm bed to sleep in at night. That in itself is already more than you allowed yourself to dream of for the past twenty years.

And yet, somehow, as if you weren't already lucky enough, there's Joel and Ellie.

Ellie with her infectious smile and silly jokes and ruthless honesty that seems way beyond her years and Joel with his... Joelness. The quiet exterior that hides more than you could've ever thought and somehow got lucky enough to become privy to.

Your life is bordering on being too good to be true. That, you're certain of.

And yet you can't help but smile, all the damn time.

It's like not only Jackson is thawing out, but so are you. Something that was buried deep inside of you is slowly resurfacing, breathing more color and life back into you with every day that passes. It's the most wonderful and scariest feeling you've come across yet.

You're on your way to the stalls, admiring Jackson's spring attire when you hear the commotion near the gates. One of the guards is shouting something unintelligible, closely followed by the tell-tale sound of the gates slowly being opened.

This is strange for two reasons. One, it's too early for patrol to return - unless something happened. Two, the guards wouldn't be yelling to open the gates for patrol - unless something happened.

Joel's on patrol this morning.

Apple still in hand, your feet turn the opposite direction from the stalls. You're running by the time you arrive at the small plaza in front of the gates.

Please, please, don't let anything have happened to him.

You're not the only person the guard's shouts attracted. A small crowd has formed in front of the gates, obscuring them from your view. People at the front are muttering, but you can't tell by their tone whether what they're seeing is good or bad.

Please, not Joel. Please.

Your pulse drums in your ears as you push through the rows of bystanders.

Not him. Anyone but him.

He is the first thing you see when you stumble out of the crowd, up on his horse and alive, thank God. Your eyes roam over his body to check for injuries, but you can't find any. Instead, your eyes stop on the hands wrapped around Joel's waist from behind.

What the...?

Your gaze flits over to the second horse that's carrying Jeff. He appears to be healthy too, thankfully, but there is also a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

"Who'd they bring in?," a voice sounds from your right, and it finally clicks.

Oh. They brought new people.

It's crazy how quickly you can go from being the new one to being one of the people in the face of strangers. A multitude of thoughts run through your head in the few seconds it takes for the information to register in your brain, ranging from 'Thank God Joel's okay' to 'I wonder whether they'll fit in', never once considering the fact that you're now on the opposite side of where you were a few months ago when Joel brought you in on that very same horse.

To the left of you, Tommy weaves through the people watching the action unfold and walks up to Joel's horse. They exchange a few words and you see Tommy nodding, first to Joel, then to Jeff.

"I guess that means they get to stay. For now," the woman next to you mutters. "For now?" You raise an eyebrow at her. "What does that mean?" She turns to you with a mocking expression that quickly fades when she realizes that it's you. "Oh. Yeah, guess you wouldn't know. Council's gonna decide whether they're a good fit or not. If not..." She shrugs, the implication of the words unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

It's never occurred to you before, but of course a place like Jackson would have a system in place that decides whether or not people are a good fit for them. Just because nothing was ever explicitly brought up to you doesn't mean that you never went through a screening process yourself.

Joel's passenger is revealed to be a very pregnant woman when he slides off his horse with ease. How she was even able to hold on to him with a belly of that size between them is beyond you, but it also answers any question about why Jeff and Joel decided to bring them in.

You watch as Joel and Tommy awkwardly help her come off the horse. "Phew, looks like she's about to pop any minute now," the woman to your side comments, and you couldn't agree more.

She is lucky they found her when they did, you think as the woman puts her hands on her lower back for support, visibly stiff from the ride and the extra weight she is lugging around.

Opposite of the little trio Jeff jumps down from his four-legged companion and extends a hand out to his own passenger. His help is accepted and - thump - the second stranger sets their feet on Jackson's ground. Jeff pets them on the back and smiles, and although you're too far away to properly hear him, you can practically read the words on his lips: Welcome to Jackson.

From the frame of the person, you assume it's a man, likely the second half of DNA that's currently cooking in the woman's belly. He reaches for Jeff's hand and envelopes it in both of his. "Thank you, man, I don't know what we would have done without you."

A sizzling pain shoots through your body and immobilizes you.

You know that voice.

It's haunted you in your dreams for years.

You'd recognize it anywhere.

Jeff and the man move towards the other half of the arrival party and you watch, frozen in place, as the back of the head turns into a side-profile until you're staring into his face.

Him.

The face of the one person you hate most in this world.

The face of the monster that is responsible for your pain. For her pain.

The apple in your hand falls to the ground and lands with a soft thud, but you barely register it. Time seems to stand still as your eyes lock on him, that face you'll never be able to forget.

Bile is working its way up your throat and filling your mouth with the sour and bitter taste of pure, unfiltered hatred. Your vision blurs and refocuses multiple times, his face going in and out of focus as if your brain is doing repeated double-takes, unable to process what you're seeing.

Every single muscle in your body is on fire, screaming a thousand silent cries that are only matched by the high-pitched ringing in your ears, so loud and deafening that no other sound comes through.

I will kill you.

The sentence is so loud and so clear in your mind that it snaps your body back into reality and time resumes.

In front of you, they're being welcomed, hands are shaken and pats on the shoulders are given out. "Wanna bet on when she pops?," you hear from your right but don't waste a single glance.

Your eyes are locked on your target.

You watch in trance - or like a predator stalking their prey? - as the pregnant woman and her accompanying monster are welcomed with open arms into your community, your safe-space until he turns to Joel and shakes his hand.

"No. NO!," you screech and everyone turns towards you, but your legs are already carrying you forward, your hands finding the knife that you keep tucked in your belt on their own accord as you beeline for the source of all your misery.

You see him doing the mental math of placing you. The initial confusion, the recognition that wipes the smile from his face, and finally, the fear that spreads in his eyes.

Good. Fear me, for I will be your death.

Tommy, who is closest to you, tries to step into your path. "Hey, what's goin' o-," is how far he gets before you push him to the side and lunge forward.

He goes down hard, despite his large statue, your knife at his throat.

"YOU." Spit flies from your lips as you scream into the man's face, foaming at your mouth. Your knife is already drawing blood, the blade pressed against the skin so tightly that it's being split open by its sharp edge. It's taking every ounce of strength in you not to slice him open right there and then.

You've waited so long for this moment.

You dreamt of it so many times; so many versions where the outcome is always the same: you, taking his life.

Tommy is still talking to you, urging and soothing words mixing into a slurry background noise. You briefly make out Joel's name being called, but you block it all out, a tight wall coming down in your mind to shut it all out. Nothing and no one will take this from you.

"Not fighting back now, hm?," you pant and lick your lips. Your eyes flit back and forth between his, soaking up the fear in them like dry ground on a rainy day. "What, fight's gone out of you that quick?"

He doesn't reply, he just stares back at you, something unreadable behind the panic in his eyes.

"Fight back, you coward." You press the knife harder into his skin, drawing more blood. He winces but doesn't draw back, nor does he make any attempt to fight you off.

After what he did? After what he put her through?

Here he is, at your mercy, and he won't even attempt to fight back?

It makes you furious.

"I said fight BACK," you roar and shake him, fist buried into his jacket. He thumps back into the ground and his head comes down hard, but his hands remain stoically at his side, not moving an inch besides the fists his fingers have curled into.

Instead, he opens his mouth for the first time.

"I'm sorry." The words come out in a hoarse whisper.

It's so far from what you ever could have imagined him saying in a moment like this that for just a second, you're taken aback.

Then an even deadlier rage overtakes you.

You pull him up by his collar until your nose meets his nose. You stare into his eyes, making sure he truly sees you as you speak your next words.

"You don't get to say that to me," you hiss out between clenched teeth. "Not to me, when you should have said it to her, you fucking piece of shit!"

You slam him back to the ground and add a knee to his chest, pressing him into the dirt. It delights you, the way he's struggling to breathe under your weight. The fear in his eyes slowly grows into panic with every hitched breath he tries to take.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you live," you snarl.

He's panting now, wincing when you add more pressure on the blade at his throat.

"One good reason for why I shouldn't slice you open right here, right now."

The woman he came with screams at your words. It's shrill and piercing and filled with so much fear for him that you can only shoot her a quick look of pure disdain. How could she be worried about the life of a monster?

He holds your gaze and you can see it in his eyes, that slow shift from panic to begging, and you can't help but laugh. "Pah!" You spit onto the ground next to him. "That's what I thought."

You raise your knife to deliver the final cut that will take his life when he suddenly speaks again.

"She's alive," he sputters and heaves for air.

You freeze in your spot, knife hanging mid-air.

"Say that again." Your voice is low, threatening. He eyes the blade, then quickly looks back to you.

"She's alive."

You lick your lips as your eyes feverishly move back and forth between his, trying to detect signs of the lie you're sure you're being told.

"Hey," a low voice says next to you, the first one to get through to you since you've tackled this monster to the ground. "Hey," Joel repeats and you feel a gentle hand on your back, but you don't move, don't look away from the scum in front of you, frozen in action.

"What's going on?" Joel's voice is as gentle as the hand on your back, but you know him well enough by now to hear the concern in his voice, try as he might to conceal it.

He waits for your response, his hand burning on your back like hot iron. A few moments pass as the thoughts race through your brain.

"Why should I believe you?," you finally spit out.

His response is as simple as it is logical. "What do I have to lose?" His voice is raspy from the lack of air in his lungs. "Why should I lie to you, when you would kill me anyway?"

Your breathing is almost as labored as his. Your pulse is drumming in your ears, drowning out your thoughts and making it hard to think. Next to you, Joel says your name.

"Location." It's a clear order from your lips.

"I don't know." The words are barely out of his mouth when you respond with a croaky laugh, ramming him into the ground once more.

"You filthy piece of shit, of course you don't. Because you're lying." You raise your knife again, but then your arm is obstructed, caught mid-way by a strong hand.

"Joel, let go," you hiss but he doesn't budge, just shakes his head. "Not like this. Not here." He cocks his head at the crowd that's gathered around you and you realize everyone's eyes on you for the first time.

No. No, this is all wrong.

"You don't know what he did," you cry out, suddenly desperate to make him understand that you have to do this, that no matter what, you can't let him just walk away, not after what he did to her.

"You'll tell me. He won't get away." Joel's free hand gently wraps around the knife in your hand. "Ain't that right, Tommy?"

Your vision is starting to swim at the bottom as tears are flooding your eyes. Joel's gaze stays locked on yours, his eyes communicating more to you than his words ever could in this moment.

Trust me, they're saying, and despite every instinct in you screaming at you, you feel your hand releasing the knife.

"I got you."

Joel's eyes never leave yours, not when he gives the knife to Tommy, not when he gets up and lifts you with him, not when both his hands wrap around your elbows and lead you away from the scene, from the crowd, from him.

"Tell me what I need to know."

You're behind the town hall, just far enough to be out of sight and earshot of what's happening in front of the gates. Joel's hands are still on you, though whether he's keeping them there to keep you here or to steady you, you're not sure.

He's watching you intently, waiting for you to offer up an explanation, but the words are getting stuck in your throat, too thick and heavy and laced with pain to come out.

A sob breaks through your panicked breaths and you tug on your arms, wishing to be loose so you can pace about, but Joel won't let you.

"Tell me, babygirl. Tell me what I need to know." His voice matches the urgency in his eyes and another shrieky sob escapes you.

"He did that to her," you finally press out, a whispery shriek that cuts through your chest like a hot knife through butter.

"Did what, baby?" Joel coaxes you, his voice soft but serious, concern etched into his eyebrows.

Tears are running down your cheeks as images of the worst moment in your life flicker across your vision, the monster's grin taunting you like a horror mask as he's hunched over her, his hands digging into the flesh on her hips like she's not made of flesh but of dough.

The bile comes up so quickly that all you can do is turn your head to the side before it shoots out of your mouth. You vomit into the bushes, one of Joel's hand rubbing your back while the other holds your hair, soothing sounds coming from his lips that do little to stop your stomach from emptying all its contents into the green foliage.

You let yourself slide to the ground when there's nothing left to vomit up anymore, breaths heavy and sharp in your ravaged throat.

"He raped her, Joel. He raped my babygirl. Right in front of my eyes."

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

Tag list: @eternallyvenus @frogsdeservelovetoo @akisfoxdevil @southernbe @nutterbitter

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @orcasoul @foomoosworld @lilmizmoz @ashleyfilm

@casa-boiardi @sunandmuun @noisynightmarepoetry @puduvallee @aryaharmon

@strawberrymilktea @bensonispunk @hauntedpoetsdepartment @ellenmunn @picketniffler

No pressure tags, just thought you'd maybe enjoy the update: @shooting-hearts @peekyourinterest @chaandii @karaslqve @jessthebaker

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sweptawayghost · 11 months ago

Text

In Dreams Pt.1

PAIRING: Joel Miller X Reader

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Joel Miller is down bad for the first time in a long time. After him and Ellie arrive and settle into life in Jackson, Joel is itching to get out. He becomes your patrol partner but he could be so much more if you give him the chance.

Hello!!!

This is my first time writing any kind of fan fiction so please be nice. I'm a huge fan of The Last Of Us and a major Joel Miller apologist. God, I love that man. Lots of Joel's inner thoughts. NO USE OF Y/N. W/c 4.1K

Anyway, I wanted to write a series and I had a hard time laying the groundwork but baby I got dirty things brewing. No warnings for this one but I will mention any trigger points in the future. Anything Written like this {Italic} indicated Joel's inner thoughts

CHAPTER WARNING: Mention of male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, Age gap

Joel Miller was down bad.

He found himself wondering how far too many times. He was sure he'd sworn off love and romance but then there you were. With your toothy grins and your warm palms. Eyes that made him feel safe and seen.

Your laugh filled his ears and swelled his heart. He would do anything to be in the same room as you, he would move where you move, he would go where you go, He could listen to you talk about anything and nothing as long as you kept looking at him and laughing at his jokes.

He wishes he could tell you right now how badly he wanted you. He wishes he could let you know how important you were to him, how he would move mountains if it would make you smile.

He hoped you would see how much Ellie loved you.

Joel saw the spark return to her eyes thanks to you. He loved that you cared about her so much, as if she was the most precious and fragile thing in the world.

How you fed her, brushed her hair for her. You happily opened your home to her when you knew Joel would be gone for a night or so just to make sure she wouldn't be alone.

There were just certain things that Joel couldn't provide for Ellie. But He knew you could. He wanted you to be in her life regardless of how he felt for you and how you felt for him. How do you feel about me?

///

He sat with Tommy in the Tipsy Bison one fall afternoon, the sun was sinking down behind the hills, the cool breeze whipped and swerved around the town centre. The Trees with their many hues of orange hung lazily ready to be whisked away.

The town prepared for the cold months that were to come, fixing and unblocked gutters, salted and jerked meats, pickled and preserved anything they could. prepared the garden beds in the greenhouses for new crops to come, pulling weeds and turning soil. It didn't feel rushed or urgent, it felt like a normal town, on a normal day, in a normal world.

Joel and Ellie had all but settled into Jackson by now, not like they had a lot to unpack when they arrived. He remembers one of the first nights they had come back. The feeling of the hot water on his skin made him want to cry. He had a chance to wash away all the blood, all the grime, the sweat, the shame, the guilt, the tightness in his chest and the pain in his heart.

Tommy had handed him a large crate when they arrived. Soaps, toothbrushes and toothpaste, Conditioner and shampoo in solid bars, lip balms, razors. Simple items that were worth more than gold. Most of the items were handmade and imperfect in shape which made them seem even more special. Someone made this for you.

There were also a number of clothing items given to them, shirts, pants, socks and underwear, jackets, even a few dresses that Ellie all but discarded in the back of her wardrobe.

It felt odd to be given so much when he had taken so much.

Stop thinking about it.

he wanted to make himself useful, he didn't want to sit still anymore, he wanted to move, to distract his mind. He started to worry about what Jackson would do to him in the long run. Would it take off his edge that kept him and Ellie alive all this time? What would happen if it burnt to the ground? He didn't want to put Ellie through anything more than she had already had to endure.

He felt naked without his pistol glued to his hip, exposed, vulnerable. He wasn't used to people smiling at him on the streets, raising an arm to wave or finding cooked meals or small gifts on his front door step. Those first few weeks were a lot to adjust to. He wondered how Ellie was handling it. She seemed closed off and quiet. She's worried about fitting in. Joel thought to himself. Teenage girls are still teenage girls after all.

///

“So your patrol partner…” Tommy sat looking from his glass across the table at his older brother “ you’ll like her, she's a bit rough around the edges at first but she's got a good head on her. She just weary of people '' Tommy spoke with a small smile on his lips but drew his eyes back to his glass. As if thinking back on you with fond memories.

Tommy had taken Joel out for the first few weeks. He had learnt the ropes quickly, to be honest there wasn't much to get, it was straight forward and it was what Joel was good at. He knew the job wasn’t for everyone but he knew he was damn near built for it.

He wasn't particularly worried about getting a new partner, he and his brother worked well together. The communication was little but clear, a nod of the head, a knowledge of the others limits, no need to make small talk and comfortable silences.but damn did Tommy know how to get on Joel's nerves.

He was more worried about whether his partner would crumble under pressure. If they would make stupid moves and get one or both of them killed. What would happen to Ellie?

“Is that your subtle way of tellin’ me she a bitch?” He raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“Some would say” is the only reply he was offered

Some would say.

But Tommy wouldn't. Good sign.

“She aint real good at small talk either” Tommy mumbled from the rim of his glass before he sipped back the amber liquid.

“She’s good quality” a smile hung from his lips “she’ll just say some shit that’ll catch you off guard”

///

He woke up with a tightness in his chest. Like he does most mornings. As the soft glow from his window floods his room he stills the thumping in his chest, rubbing small circles to alleviate the ache.

He sits up and lets reality wash over him. It's okay.

It feels wrong to feel safe.

He went about his normal routine he had set up for himself, any distraction from the nightmare he awoke from. Get up. Get dressed. Get to it. Coffee was a non negotiable, even the instant stuff was doing it for him these days. He slowly opened the front door, ultra aware of the creaks of the old home he now called his. He found himself thinking about the family who lived there before him. Stop

Stepping onto the front porch with socked feet. He let the steam of the coffee swirl around his face as he inhaled the chilled morning air. Seeing the street lights glow softly as the morning creeps over the hills. Jacksons main street was a few blocks over and he could hear soft murmuring of people start to make their way into the mess hall for breakfast before starting their daily assignments. It reminded him of before.

He could almost imagine that the last 20 years were just a really bad, really vivid dream.

The sounds of a neighbourhood waking up to begin their day. The sound of gravel crunching in the distance, a soft yell from the other side of main street, the sound of his neighbours walking around the upper level of their home. All once familiar sounds to Joel. All sounds that now feel alien.

He let his chin drop to his chest and began slowly moving it from side to side to relieve some tension, noticing a large hole in one of his woollen socks right at the big toe. The padding on the heel is also threatening to split open any day now.

Moments like this were scary for Joel. moments of silence. Moments when he could let his mind wander because he didn't have urgency at his back, he wasn't being chased down the street by a horde of infected or being shot at by a group of raiders, he wasn't doing supply run with the threat of a QZ guard blowing his head off if he got caught and he wasn't lying in the woods wide awake all night to make sure Ellie was safe as she slept a few feet away from him.

No. Joel Miller, for the first time in a long time, was safe.

His attention snapped up quickly when he heard a slam a few doors up from him. He let the goosebumps run down his spine as the thought faded from his mind.

///

When Joel arrived at the gates of Jackson to meet his patrol partner he wasn't expecting… Well, you. You greeted him with a simple nod of your head and handed him the reins of a horse. He looked down at your extended hand, small cuts and scrapes that covered your skin, they looked soft but worked. He grabbed the reins from you and let his eyes jump to yours.

In the low morning light, your face serious but soft, your eyes beamed up at him. You were younger than him, a hell of a lot younger, that much he could see. He wondered what you'd be like out there. What kind of person is he stuck with for the next few hours? Would you run at the first sign of trouble? Or worse, someone who wouldnt shut the fuck up and would rather spew bullshit then sit with the silence.

“You a decent shot?” His voice came out low almost like a whisper, all thick with sleep that still lingered in his lungs.

You gave a small huff as you turned to mount your horse and only looked at him, without saying a word.

You made him a little nervous. This he could admit to himself. He couldnt put his finger on it right away but as you continued on your patrol that day he started to work it out. You had already checked out the weapons and saddled the horses before he reached the gates that morning, You had taken the lead on the trails, you didn't offer him your hand or even said hello for that matter, You hadn't spoken a word to him full stop. Did you think you were too good to talk to him or give him the time of day? Did you think he was incapable or stupid?

Incapable. Useless. Ineffective. No, surely not. You were just some girl, what did you know about me?

As these thoughts swamped his brain he became overly aware of every move he made, any noise he made, he felt like he was under a microscope with you.

Every now and again he would feel you looking at him as you slowed to ride beside him, he tried to catch your eyes. It made him sweaty, uncomfortable and restless. Why are you so nervous? Why do you care if she likes you or not? you're working together not getting married.

Neither of you had made an attempt at small talk. He didn't even know your name until you had been out for several hours and that was only because communication was mandatory at that moment.

“Im Joel by the way” He offered you. The response you gave was only a look that said yeah I know dumb ass

That was the last time he tried to talk to you. You made him feel small and like his presence was unnecessary. He was meant to be the stoic one, the quiet one, the protector, the one who takes the lead, not some girl 30 years younger than him.

Tommy had been right, you had a good head on your shoulders and while your silence unsettled him to a degree he did feel safe, you weren't distracted and you weren't distracting him. Right?

He didn't like being the one on the outs as much as he would protest that he didn't care and didn't need people to like him. For some reason he wanted you to like him. He wanted you to talk to him at least.

The rest of the patrol was uneventful. You were good, he did what he could although he just felt like a supporting act to you. An odd feeling stirred in his gut when he looked at you. Everytme he let his eyes wander over your form he noticed small details.

Your cheeks were flushed as the cold afternoon wind whipped past you. You were swimming in the sweater you wore, small mended patches where you had repaired holes in the ageing fabric. The way you would adjust your backpack periodically, cracking your back in the process.He liked the way you smelt when you walked close to him or when the wind changed in his direction. Small things. He wondered what you would notice about him.

You still held a stony expression as you approached the gates of jackson. While he felt relieved to get out of your presence he also wanted to look at you more. He wished he could pause you just to study your expression.

You held your expression when you looked up at him. He looked back blankly at you before he noticed you had extended your hand out in front of you towards him. He glanced down at your hand and then back to your face, he shot you a confused look.

“The horse” you gesture with your eyebrows and a small tilt of your head towards the reins that he still held.

“Unless you wanna hold hands” you said with a small smile on your face. She smiled at you

He handed the softened leather rein to you, he looked back at you and returned a lazy grin. You turned and began to walk towards the stables with a horse on either side.

“Do you need help getting back or do you think you've got it under control?” you asked him with a slight turn of your shoulder.

“Im good” was all he could muster with a small crack in his voice.

But that didn't matter because you smiled at him.

Joel thought about you as he walked back to the Bison, he couldn't stop the way his lips curled at the corners as he walked, Kicking up dirt and rocks as he went, hands in his pockets and head hung low. He thought about the flutter of your lashes. He thought about the strands of hair that fell in your face when you bent over. He thought about the way the strap of your rifle hugged your shoulder. He thought about the hushed tone of your voice when you spoke to him. He thought about the way you looked at him over your shoulder and the way your cheeks flushed when you caught his eyes already on you.

///

“How was it?” Tommy had asked him as he honed in on the bowl of stew, he held it close to his chest as if someone would swipe it from him if he didnt.

“It was fine” was the only reply Joel was willing to give. She makes me feel like she doesn't need me.

Tommy raised his eyes from his meal to peer at his brother. He rested the bowl in his hands down on the table.

“Really? Just fine” He said it like he was digging for more.

“Nothing interesting happen that you wanna tell me about?” Joel only raised an eyebrow in place of a reply.

“Yeah Tommy we had so much fun, we sang songs and picked flowers and braided each other's hair” Joel spat at him with annoyance.

“No, nothing interesting happened” Tommy’s expression didn’t change at Joel's words, he had a lopsided grin glued to his face.

“It's just that you haven't whipped that smirk off your face since you walked in”

“Fuck off”

When Joel woke up the next morning he didn't feel as tired as he usually does, his back didn't feel as ache as it normally did and tightness in his chest felt lighter than most days. His mind felt quieter than usual. The normal shouting and screaming was dulled by miles of distance.

He chalked it up to having something to occupy his time, keeping him busy so his brain had less time to spiral. Get up. Get dressed. Get to it. He got his coffee and returned to his place on the porch once again, he absorbed the sounds, the smells, the houses around his own, the sharp feeling of the cold morning on his skin. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. He could hear music, the crunch of stone, the shower running from inside the house, the neighbour walking around the second floor.

“Morning Miller” the sound of your voice pulling him out of his daydream, He opened his eyes to see you standing at the foot of his porch.

“You busy today?”

///

That was the first time you had taken Joel out on a non official patrol. He remembers the sun beaming down on his back and sweat beads forming in his hairline as you walked side by side along the overgrown trail. The pack on his back felt lighter today, The weight of the gun on his shoulder was eased and the throbbing in his feet was a faded tickle.

He liked walking beside you. He liked the way your hair fell. He liked the way you smelt. He liked to watch the smile grow on your face when you looked at him. He liked the way you looked at him.

“ Why invite me out today?” he asked “given how talkative you were yesterday”

You laughed and looked up at him. He wondered if he mistook your seriousness for dislike.

You let your eyes fall back to the trail. Some of the behaviours Joel noticed yesterday returned, you adjusted your backpack and he heard the snap of your spine in the process.

“I'm sorry about that” You winced when you spoke, your eyes lifting slightly from the trail to gauge your next move and secure your footing "In a world where women like me are beaten down, stolen away, used and left for dead…” Joel peered down at you when you stopped, you refused to meet his gaze as you spoke “I want people to see me as a threat before they see me as anything else"

Fuck

///

Once you arrived back in Jackson you had asked him to walk you home. The idea of spending more time with you made his heart jump and even with the ache in his back returning and a throbbing pain in his knee, he would walk to the other side of the country with you if you asked.

He followed you up your porch stairs taking in the exterior of your home. It was small, the front steps bowed from years of pressure and use. The paint on the weather boards peeling and faded with time. The elements had not been kind to a lot of the homes in Jackson, Joel had spent a lot of time looking around his own home and thinking of all the things he would do if he had the resources. It didn't stop at his own and soon he was imagining renovating half the town.

Your front wire door looked like it was hanging on by a thread and one of the gutters that ran down the side of your home was all but rusted out.

He stopped when he reached the top step and watched you shove the front door open with your shoulder. You dropped your bag to the left of the door and kicked your boots off to the right. He watched you disappear into the house, he could still hear your voice as he approached the front door, not stepping over the threshold but he wanted to get a glance at your home, it was almost like eavesdropping on a secret or reading someone's diary.

You didn't invite him in but you also didn't tell him not to come in. I'm just looking.

Old books sprayed out on the ground near the fireplace, balls of yarn and half finished projects laid out on the daybed in the corner of the room. The whole room was lit up in a soft yellow glow from the afternoon sun, it looked like a home, it looked warm and inviting. He could imagine you sitting on the sofa with a blanket wrapped up around your shoulders, half asleep with a book in your hand or laid out next to the fire, the peaks of your face highlighted in the soft glow of the flames.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked looking up at where he stood in the door jam.

“Just lookin” he replied. He felt his palms go sweaty as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't have.

He looked down at the item you had extended out towards him. You were holding a bottle, the label all but worn off from age and water damage. The seal on the top had been broken and the lid had dents and scratches on it. It looked like it had been used before and once opened used again and again. Take the bottle you moron.

“Thank you” He said as he reached for the bottle “its real nice of you”

Joel didn't know it at the time but this would be the first of many gifts you would bestow upon him and Ellie. The next thing you would do would be mending his clothes including the socks he was currently wearing.

After that you would be lending him tools and teaching Ellie how to sew ‘a skill that everyone should know’ you would tell her.

He would come over in the coming days and clean out your gutters before the weather turned and sunny clear days would be consumed by grey skies and rain. He would rip out rotten floor boards on your front porch and replace rusty nails. You would bring him home made meals or fresh bread to which he would invite you in and you would accept without a second thought. He loved how at home you seemed kicking off your shoes and leaving them next to his, throwing your jacket on the back of his couch or hanging it over his.

He didn't know it now but soon he would be showing you chords on the guitar and swapping books with you. He would be following you out for more non official patrols, sometimes for days at a time, looking for supplies in dilapidated barns and old properties that have been lost to the elements. He would be coming over to your house to drag Ellie home when she was trying to avoid doing homework.

“You need me to help you get home?” a bashful smile laced your face, Joel couldn't tell if you were just flushed from the warmth of your home or if you were blushing. You brushed past him in the doorway and raised your arm with a pointed finger past his shoulder down the street.

Joel’s eyes followed your finger down the street. Seven houses were all that separated you, seven houses and across the street.

“See you neighbour”

As Joel walked home he couldn't drop the stupid smile that hung from his lips. He slowed his steps as he walked, observing the bottle in his hand as he went. People started returning from assignments to rejoin their families, others turning straight for the Bison in favour of a drink. He listened to distant sounds of children laughing and playing in the streets. The sounds of a neighbourhood filled the air but all Joel could think about was the smile you gave him and the way you looked at him.

///

That was the first night that Joel dreamt about you. It was the first night you pulled him out of a bad dream and you didn't even know it. It was the first night that he went to sleep with your face glued to the back of his eyelids. When he woke up in the middle of the night you were the first thing on his mind. When he closed his eyes and pulled his cock out of his boxers and started jerking himself off he saw your face. What are you doing Joel? He saw your smile and the strands of hair that stick to your forehead. He pictured you laid out by your fireplace with his lips pressed to your neck as you moaned his name.

Just once, get it out of your system. She’s attractive, I'm only human. It's fine.

“Just once” he whispered to himself in the silence of his room.

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