#and breaks her arm when joel isn't home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellieluvr420 · 2 months

Text

Friends? Never. Pt.11 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

Your night had been rough, you thought you needed space from Ellie and in a way you did but all your mind was plagued with while trying to fall asleep on Lacey's sofa was how you craved to be in Ellie's arms, in Ellie's bed, at home. All you wanted was home so after a sleepless night filled with huffs and sighs and tossing and turning, you thanked Lacey and headed home as the sun was barely peeking up over the horizon.

When you walked through your front door, shutting it quietly, you expected it to be quiet, silent even, you expected Ellie to be sleeping in her room but instead you hear the faint, nasally call of your name from the living room before Ellie's tired face pokes out from the doorway.

"Hey babe." Your voice was laced with relief as the most genuine smile crept across both of your faces, she walked over to you sheepishly, barely making eye contact until you pull her into the tightest hug as you breath in the smell you had missed so dearly over the past night. "I'm sorry I left, I thought I needed space, but I was wrong, I missed you so much, I just didn’t know what I was feeling about Abby or how to deal with it.” You pause and note the silence accompanied by her sorrowful expression as you pull away and gaze at her. “Are you okay?" You speak as you lean back into her shoulder as you feel her body relax into you.

"Yeah, of course." She pulls away looking dead into your eyes as if trying to see through them. "Are you?"

"Better today." She pulls you into another hug, completely consuming your every thought and feeling.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, please, it's not your fault." You knew your reassurance would fall on deaf ears, but you didn't care, you'd say it until you could no longer speak. You feel light kisses being pressed to your neck, but it didn't feel sexual, it felt like she was trying to take the pain she knew you were feeling away with every kiss and in a way, it was working. You feel better now you're back with Ellie but for some reason your cheeks began to feel damp and your vision started to cloud, you couldn't understand why you were crying because she wasn't making you sad, she was making you happier, it didn't make sense, you sniff frustratedly and her head shoots away from your neck to look at your tear-streaked face.

"What's going on babe? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no, I don't even know why I'm crying I'm being stupid."

"You're not being stupid, you're never stupid. Come on let's go upstairs." You let her lead you upstairs and as you reach both your bedroom doors, she looks back at you. "Yours or mine?"

"Yours, please." She nods and opens the door to her room, letting you inside and leading you straight to the bed where she holds you into her chest as she gently rubs your back.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I don't really know what to say. She wanted to kill Joel, so she couldn't live but she had nothing, I just hated being the one to take the last thing from her."

"I'm-"

"Don't you dare apologise again, Ellie, I'm serious." You shut her up by pressing a soft kiss to her lips that turns sloppy but still tender as your body's press closer together until there's no space between either of you. Your legs entwine together as she slots one of her thighs between yours and rests the other atop, her chin resting on top of your head as you break from the kiss to catch your breath. You press your face into her neck and inhale deeply, you had missed her so much. She tightens her grip around you as you scratch at her scalp and peck at her neck repeatedly. “Ellie I’m so sorry I left; it wasn’t the right thing to do. I love you so much, you make everything better.”

Ellie wasn’t sure why she was shocked, she knew in general it was quick to say ‘I love you’ but with all your history it didn’t feel quick at all and you had said you loved her yesterday but this time you had said it first, she felt her cheeks heat as a lump in her throat formed. She tried to will the tears away because she felt silly, she was so happy so why was she crying. You felt the subtle increasing heaving of her chest and you look up to see her cheeks shiny with tears, you pull away so you can face her as your bodies are still tangled together. “What’s up babe?”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m just really happy. I love you so much.” She kisses your nose gently and you snuggle back into her knowing she’s okay.

“We’re being so gross and sappy right now.”

“I know I think I might vomit in a second.” You both giggle as you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of you daring to move a muscle. You stay cuddled together until you both doze off basking in the warmth of the rising sun.

When you woke, your body sticky with a layer of sweat that was no doubt from cuddling with Ellie despite the blistering heat, you noticed the absence of the auburn-haired girl, you surveyed the room and noticed the door was wide open and at the same time you hear a crash accompanied with a “FUCK.” that sounds like its coming from the kitchen. You jump out of bed and race down the stairs to be faced with Ellie covered in some sort of batter that was also splattered over the floor and cupboards, you notice the bowl on the floor that you assumed was the culprit of the crash you had heard.

“Er what you up to babe?” She jumps and whips round to face you with a frustrated glare on her face as her eyes flick between you and the bowl on the floor.

“Shit did I wake you up? I was gonna surprise you goddamit.” You smile and inch closer to her, further inspecting the mess she had made. “I was gonna make pancakes, but the bowl jumped off the counter and got shit everywhere.”

“Mhm likely story. Do we have enough stuff to remake the batter?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“Well you go get yourself cleaned up while I sort out the mess the bowl made in here and then we can try again.” She smiles warmly at you playing along with her story despite the knowing quirk of your eyebrow as she walks past and kisses your cheek muttering a small ‘thanks’ before scooping some batter from her top on her finger and swiping it onto your nose with a mischievous giggle. “Ugh Ellie, go clean up you idiot.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” She walks backwards with her hands up in a surrender gesture before she smacks straight into the wall with an ‘ooph’. “Don’t say a word.” You’re desperately trying to hold in your laugh as she walks out of the room, this time glancing at the position of the doorway while glaring at you.

Once she’s left you get to work cleaning up the immense mess she had made as you wonder how on earth she actually managed this. You’re finishing cleaning the floor when Ellie walks in in fresh clothes. You stand as she walks over to you and wraps her arms around you, swaying you both gently, she had never been this clingy but the energy between you two had shifted, since you had come back from your walk with Abby, it had been different.

Ellie had felt clarity in her mind for the first since since she can remember as you walked through the door last night, even looking at your sullen face and after your night apart, she understood your devotion to her and her happiness, it only strengthened the love she already knew she felt for you but it made her determined to make your actions not in vain. You executed Abby because you wanted to give her time to fix her relationship with Joel, she had to do that for you, she at least owed you that. She’d forever be in your debt, and she was happy that way, she always would be.

“Come on you, we’ve got pancakes to make me.”

“Hey they’re not all for you you know.”

“Well duh... you can have the leftovers.”

“Gee thanks.”

“That’s what you get for waking me up.”

“Wait, did I actually?”

“No but still, make me pancakes.” She rolls her eyes before going back to the cupboards to get all the ingredients out for the second time this morning as you watch her back and arm muscles ripple under the tank top she had changed into. You’re basically drooling as she turns around with a knowing look at your ogling.

“Like the view?”

“Oh yeah.” You saunter over to her as she turns back to the counter to start weighing out the ingredients and as you pinch her ass cheek she jumps and scowls at you. “What? You can’t blame me. Your ass is so cute.”

“Shut up.” She pours the flour into the bowl and goes completely over the amount that she was supposed to put in as the scales mock her displaying the weight of the flour. “Hm good enough.”

“No Ellie take some out.”

“Fine.” She takes a large pinch and throws it straight at you as you stand there dumbfounded.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Oh shit there’s a hair in the flour, I think it’s one of yours.”

“Ellie that is a short red hair, that is obviously yours.” She just shrugs before leaning over the bowl and blowing at the hair but the flour just explodes onto her face which sends her stumbling away as she coughs and splutters, you can barely stand you’re laughing so hard as she goes to the sink to wash the flour off her face. When she turns back to look at you with a grumpy expression, hair stuck to her damp forehead you can’t help but smile at the sight, when you had moments like this with her it only reminded you of your childhood friendship and how pure it had been before everything, the nostalgia warmed you and you beckoned her over to help you continue making the batter.

Somehow you both managed to make a few pancakes each, yours looking considerably better than Ellie’s and as you watched her finish the last bite of the sort of pancakes-sort of pile of pancake mush that was created when she tried and failed every time to flip her pancakes in the pan you couldn’t help but reach over and swipe a little bit of syrup that had collected on the corner of her lip with your thumb before popping it into your mouth with a devilish grin as you both make eye contact. Her cheeks turn rosy and she gulps before standing and taking both your plates to the sink, she goes to leave them there but the look on your face sends her straight back to the sink to start washing them up, you giggle and grab the towel hung over the handle of the oven to start drying the dishes she was putting on the draining board, you watch her hands as the veins flex with her movements only to be interrupted by Ellie bumping you with her hip. You bump her back and she stumbles slightly which leads her to bump you back harder this time, you stumble to the side and catch your foot on her chair that she hadn’t pushed back under the table and go crashing to the floor. She rushes over to you, her hands still soaking wet, in fits of laughter as she pulls you up.

“Oh my god I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that... Are you okay?” There are tears falling down her cheeks as she fails to control her hysterical laughter, it’s so infectious that you can’t help but giggle along with her. “Go put a movie on, I’ll finish up in here.” You assume that’s her way of apologising for your tumble and as you walk past the chair you had tripped, you loudly push it into the table as you glare at her sheepish face.

Ellie finishes tidying up... to her standard and joins you in the living room only to find you kneeling at the record player and flipping through the collection of vinyl's you had both amassed over the years. She watches as you pull out the Crooked Stills album ‘shaken by a low sound’ and place the needle so it plays your favourite song on the album ‘ain’t no grave’.

“Oh I love this one.” Ellie exclaims from behind you as the melody starts to fill the room.

“Me too.” You hold out your hand to her and she takes it before spinning you round and pressing her front to your back and swaying you both as her hands find their place on your hips and her head rests on your shoulder. You stay swaying until she spins you out again causing a giggle to erupt from your lip.

“Babe watch this.” Is all you hear before you see her start doing a poor imitation of a robot dancing. You watch with a confused look on your face before she huffs. “It’s a robot dance... whatever Joel does it better.”

“I hope so.”

“Shut up you.” As she says this, the song switches to ‘ecstasy’ which is the song that had played at the tipsy bison that night where you danced together. Your cheeks heat as you remember what had happened that night and the guilt threatens to consume you once again but her hands on your cheeks ground you and bring you back to reality. “Let’s make a different memory to this song hm.” She presses a light kiss to your lips and pulls you into her by your waist as you wrap your arms around her neck. You dance together until the song finishes and the warmth throughout your body feels like its radiating a glow around you.

The day had been perfect and now you and Ellie were snuggled up on the sofa watching another Jurassic Park film that Ellie had begged to put on when there’s a knock at the door. You both look at each other quizzically as neither of you were expecting guests, let alone at this time of night.

“Stay here, I’ll get it.” Ellie says before jumping up and walking to the door. You pause the film to listen to whoever was at the door.

“Oh, hey Dina, what’s up?”

“A bunch of us are sneaking out to go party, there’s a campfire by the lake. Thought you might wanna come.”

“Oh errrr...” She looks back in the direction of the living room as she scratches at the back of her neck.

“Oh come on Ellie, there’s booze and me and Jesse raided Eugene’s growhouse so there’s a butt-ton of weed too.”

“Oh well then we have to go.” You add enthusiastically as you pop up next to Ellie and grab onto her arm that was nearest you. Dina quirks an eyebrow at Ellie but she completely misses it as she’s too busy gazing at your excited face like you put the sun and stars in the sky.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll come, when’s it starting?”

“Well I’m heading over now but you guys can come whenever.”

“Yeah okay, we’ll get ready now and meet you there.”

“Cool... See ya.” Dina shoots Ellie one last strange look that she catches this time before turning on her heel and walking away. You squeal and run off to find an outfit as she bids goodbye to the cosy night in she was very ready for but she just couldn’t say no to you.

When you’re both finally ready, you start the short walk to the north-west side gate, one of the perks of living right on the outskirts and Ellie observes as you nimbly pick the lock before you both slip out to freedom.

As you approach the campfire you take note of the group of about twenty people, some chatting, some dancing but no one looked particularly sober even from a distance. The smell of weed hits you as you get closer and you notice the audible sniff from Ellie before a small sigh. You go to grab her hand and hold it in yours but you stop yourself as you realise you’re in public. You don’t know why that stops you but it does.

The night was fun, you had drank and smoked a bit and you were dancing with Dina as Jesse and Ellie watched while they chatted until Jonah calls everyone over for a game of truth or dare.

“Seriously Jonah? Are you twelve?”

“Shut up Dina you know you want to play. We’ll spin the bottle to see whose go it is and if the two people who went before you both say truth you have to do a dare. Got it?” Everyone nods as they take their places in the circle and the game commences. There had already been multiple rounds before two people in a row say truth which means whoever goes next has to do a dare. You aren’t even shocked when the bottle lands on you, somehow you just expected it but what you didn’t expect was to be dared to kiss anyone in the group by Dina. You shoot Dina a look that she laughs at smugly, you knew what she was doing, and you weren’t even mad. Without a beat you crawl over to Ellie that was sitting a couple people away from you before clambering into her lap and holding her crimson-painted cheeks. She looks at you like a deer in headlights which mimics the look on everyone else’s faces at your open display of affection. You press your lips to hers passionately and swipe your tongue over her bottom lip, as she grants it entrance into her mouth, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you into her. You almost get lost in the heat of the kiss until you hear gasps and whooping which prompts you both to pull away and avert eye contact from everyone whose eyes were glued to you both. You press a quick kiss to her cheek and whisper in her ear: “That was hot babe” before climbing off of her and crawling back to your original position.

Everyone moves on pretty quickly and the game continues until eventually everyone is too tired or intoxicated to continue and the numbers dwindle until Dina and Jesse say their goodbyes and it’s just you and Ellie left. You climb onto her the second Dina and Jesse are out of view and start kissing up her neck as you push the flannel she was wearing off her shoulders. You sit up and whip your top off before standing and kicking your bottoms off. You grin and remove your underwear until you’re standing before her completely naked as she watches in awe. “Race you.” You mutter before running to the lake.

“Wait, that’s not fair.” She rushes to take off the rest of her clothes before running at the lake and cannonballing into it where you were floating and waiting for her. She swims up to meet you and takes you in her arms as you wrap your legs around her waist and kiss her forehead.

“I had the best day El, thank you.”

“Me too babe.”

You both stay like that enjoying the cool of the water under the silver moonlight until you notice the subtle shiver of Ellie’s body and the blue tint of her lips so you drag Ellie out of the water and back home to warm up together cuddled up in bed.

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699 @isitadinosaur @lil-elliesgf @amberputh

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie smut

183 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

Something to Fight For (series) (PART SEVEN)

Word Count: 6.8

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

WARNINGS: Mentions of child abandonment.

A/N: This is part of a series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

---------------------------------------------

When November slouches forward in all its underwhelming glory, you are babysitting regularly for Joel. At least once a week, sometimes more if he needs it. Sometimes it's a short thing like an hour where he needs to pop out to grab supplies from a wholesaler (he insists on driving you to and from home on those short trips) when Tommy isn't free. Other times like tonight, it's he and Tommy needed at meetings. On these nights Joel dressed up in slacks and wears a tie and his is usually hair damp from the shower when you arrive.

The tie he’s wearing is crooked and in habit you go to straighten it. Joel’s eyes focus on your face, almost crossing as you fingers brush against his bobbing throat. The tip of your tongue sits at the right corner of your mouth as you concentrate on straightening the dark green fabric.

“I can’t watch you go to another meeting with a crooked tie,” you say with a laugh. When you pull back, satisfied with the tie, he gives you a quick grin of thanks before heading out for the night in a rush.

Sarah toddles in from the other room, yawning. She comes to wind her narrow arm around your thigh, smiling up at you. You smile down at her, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“I wanna show you something.”

You follow her into the living room where she has pulled up a photo album you’ve never seen before. You follow her instructions to sit, watching as she brings the small blue album over onto your lap. She crawls up next to you and begins what feels like a presentation.

"Daddy says this is mine and I get to keep it," Sarah explains in a rush, her little voice breathless. "I can see the pictures all the time."

You nod, letting her swing the album open.

"Look," Sarah says with pride pointing to a woman in the photo before smiling up at you.

In the photo is a stunning black woman with large hazel eyes, the same as Sarah's. She's in a hospital bed and gown holding a bundled up newborn in her arms. The woman looks exhausted but incredibly proud of what she's done. As if she's overcome a hurdle she never thought she would.

You feel your breath catch as you realize what you’re looking at. Sarah is glancing up at you, gauging your reaction before her face breaks into a wide smile.

"That's my mommy. I lived in her tummy."

"She's beautiful," you acknowledge truthfully and Sarah beams.

With her at your elbow the two of you flip through the book with Sarah pointing out details that stick out to her like her mother's clothing or the way she looked when she was a baby.

You feel your heart catch at the photo of Joel and Michelle next to one another at what looks like a picnic. They look young with both of them smiling widely into the camera. Michelle isn't even showing so you reason that this is when they were dating.

You shake off the strange pit it puts in your stomach, forcing you to focus on the details of the following photos.

A slightly younger Joel has an arm slung around Michelle's shoulder as he laughs at Sarah, his forefinger extended in his daughter's direction. Michelle is smiling as well but it doesn't touch her eyes. She's holding a squirming Sarah in her arms, but not looking at her.

"I was a good baby," Sarah tells you obviously parroting something she's been told by Joel.

There are plenty of photos that show a genuinely smiling Michelle holding Sarah, but not as many as you'd hoped.

The wedding photos are few. You can tell that Joel has omitted many because there are none of them exchanging rings or kissing. The only way you know it's from their wedding is by the bands on their fingers and the dress Michelle wears.

You like the photo of Tommy holding a six month Sarah, the obvious flower girl, over his head mid-spin.

There is one photo amongst the grouping that gives you pause. It's Michelle and a six month Sarah who is giggling in the direction of the camera, probably looking at her dad taking the photograph.

But it's not Sarah who catches your eye; it's Michelle in the background. She's seated on the same sofa you're on right now, her feet tucked up under her. She's got her cheek balanced on her palm as she looks over at Sarah.

It's easy to hate Michelle when you hear about her in stories. Images of a callous woman leaving her baby had filled your mind, even when Joel assured you that wasn't the case.

But in this photo you can see it, the pain reflected in those large eyes of hers. Eyes that scream for release from a life that she does not want. Eyes that cry out silently. And all the hatred you felt melts away, replaced by an ache of sisterhood that spans the page.

"She loved you very much," you tell Sarah moments later. "I can tell."

---

Tonight Joel returns earlier than expected. Sarah is asleep and you feel deflated knowing that's no good reason for you to stick around. So you pull your purse onto your shoulder preparing to head out.

"You wanna beer?"

You try not to look over-eager as you smile over at him. "I'll take a coke if you have any left.”

Joel nods, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with two cokes in glasses with ice. You've gone to stand by his guitars, strumming one absently. You motion to one as he approaches, handing you the cool glass.

"How come you don't play anymore?"

Joel looks over at them, brows raised as if he forgot they were there. "Haven't played since Michelle.”

“Sarah showed me the album.”

Joel looks shyly down at the carpeted floor, shrugging. “Yeah, well. Someone kinda smart gave me some good advice.”

You beam, feeling your hear hiccup when his dark eyes shoot up at you. There’s something about Joel that is simultaneously private and earnest. The face is all stone but the eyes? You could live in his eyes and never want for anything.

You break your gaze from him as you feel your blood rushing to your cheeks. You take a deep drink of your coke, your eyes going back to the guitars. It makes you think about the band you were part of and the man who broke your heart so spectacularly.

"I haven't really sung since Paul. When he left I didn’t feel like it anymore."

Joel nods, looking thoughtful. "S’weird how something can make you feel so good and then outta nowhere become the pain.”

You nod, his words settling into a nook of your brain. You stand beside him quietly looking at the instruments wondering what his voice is like. Does Joel sing or just play guitar? You want to know but you won’t ask. Not tonight.

"Maybe one day we'll have reason to make music again," you say without thinking.

Joel smiles softly around his glass.

"Maybe."

///

When you're not babysitting for Joel you're hard at work trying to take advantage of the new crop of funding grants that are coming through.

Alex is already heads and shoulders above James as far as a coworker goes. She enthusiastic, passionate and focused. Showing her around the city a few weeks ago had shown you that.

Today you're focused on the vaccinations needed for the batch of dogs dropped off at one of the volunteers' homes across town.

Your phone buzzes.

Hey. Can I c u?

You give a frustrated sigh before deleting the message from your phone.

"Where do you want me?"

Your head jerks up from your phone in time to see a smirking Joel enter into your office.

Where do you want him?

Don't even think it.

You want him several places. In your bed is the main one. Despite Joel himself telling everyone that dating was a waste of time, the pathetic crush is not fading quickly enough.

Sometimes it's fine. Most times you go over to his place and you babysit Sarah and you don't even think about him once he's out the door. Other days his voice, the warm color of his eyes or even the way he smells seem tattooed on the inside of your brain.

Today, you realize, is unfortunately a crush day.

The kind of day where you seem unable to tear your eyes away from his biceps under the t-shirt. Or the way his carpentry belt is slung around his narrow hips in a way that begs you to stare.

"Hey," you smile shakily, standing to cross over to him, holding your breath as you glide past him. "Follow me."

He walks heavily after you, his body looming behind yours. You introduce him to Alex before leading him outside the space and into the back.

This is his first day back at your office, here to organize the next steps of your kennel.

Joel stands close to you, bringing out a yellow pad and pencil. He motions to the area in the far side of the space. "Here?"

You nod. "When we went to the city they said we had clearance to build at least eight kennels. I'm hoping these can be designed with big animals in mind."

Joel nods, scratching something onto the yellow pad in his hand. "55 by 42?"

"Maybe 62?'

"Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Probably get to work on these mostly on weekends," Joel tells you. "And like I told ya before my main jobs gotta take priority."

"Of course. Gotta pay those bills."

"But it shouldn't be too long. I was actually gonna get a few foundation pieces started today. Brought some supplies in my truck."

"Anything you can do is amazing," you assure him, waving and heading back into your office.

A short while later you can hear the steady hammering of nail in wood and it takes everything in your power not to stare out the window facing the back.

Alex strolls into the office, pushing back her short black locks.

"Hey, this came for you-" she says handing you some mail. "I think one of them is from the city about the sanctuary!"

She'd been so eager about the sanctuary project, helping you to fill out the remaining portions of the grant application.

She and her girlfriend moved to Austin only a few months ago and Alex thinks she was fated to work here. Sometimes you think so too, she fits in so perfectly.

You take the mail from her, thanking her. She nods before her attention is drawn to the window.

"I cannot believe your boyfriend is doing all that work for free," she says.

"He's not my b-boyfriend," you say with a strangled laugh. "Just a friend of a friend. I babysit his daughter."

"Oh." Alex nods in understanding. "I was telling my girlfriend about the sanctuary and she thinks she might know a landscaper who would do it at cost."

"Are you serious?"

You and Alex chat for a long while, making notes and suggestions for landscaping ideas even though you know you're both jumping ahead. You haven't even got the funding secured yet. And the envelope in your hand is a formality letting you know your previous application has been accepted and is now being reviewed. Alex excuses herself a short while later and you're left alone at your desk. It's quiet save for the occasional sound of a hammer hitting a nail.

Or the occasional sporadic grunt.

Just one peek.

You tilt your chair back slightly, angling yourself so that you can catch him out your window.

You don't mean to stare, but it's like a porno come to life. Joel in a t-shirt hammering lumber into the ground, his neck and forehead dotted with sweat. He stands, stretching slightly.

Oh Christ.

Joel is bringing up the end of his t-shirt to swipe at his damp face. And fuck if he isn't just gorgeous to see. His belly is soft yet defined and the color of sweet caramel. You want to run your tongue down across his hipbones.

A light bulb suddenly goes off in your mind. You should bring him something to drink. An excuse to go out there, a chance to see him up close. You don’t care that in your head it sounds pathetic even as you’re rising to go towards the water cooler.

All you have is tap water and one of those shitty wax cups you serve to people visiting the office but it’ll do. You almost trip over yourself in your desire to get outside into the sun and towards him.

He's standing, surveying his work when he notices you approaching.

"You looked thirsty," you say breathily. "I brought you water."

He takes the drink from you with a smile of thanks, tipping his head back to drink. You hold in a whimper at the sight of his neck bobbing. It makes you think of how warm his neck was when you straightened his tie.

"Thanks," he rasps when he's finished.

You nod, trying not to clench your thighs together. He's so sexy there back-lit by the sun, his smile so charming and his arms so muscled.

"Do you want anything else?"

Joel pauses as if considering something. His eyes dart along yours, like he’s trying to communicate with you through they alone. It makes your stomach jump.

"Yeah," Joel suddenly says, his voice hard as he tosses the crumpled cup onto the ground behind him. You're about to say something about littering when he stalks towards you, walking you backwards against the side of the building.

There he takes your wrists and pins them against the brick at your sides.

"W-what do you want?" You manage, your entire body pounding at his proximity.

"Not about what I want," Joel murmurs with his eyes on your mouth. "S'bout what I need."

He's quietly watching you, his pelvis pressing firmly into yours. He’s hard and warm and oh fuck his mouth looks so delicious. You physically force yourself to move your eyes from his mouth back up to his eyes.

"W-what do you need, then?"

Joel smirks and it's the most devastating thing you've ever seen. So sexy, so teasing and then he dips his head forward. His mouth is at your ear brushing yours.

"I need you."

"Did you hear me? I said I need you to talk to the records department on the phone. They have questions I can't answer yet."

Alex is standing in front of your desk looking at you with a hard look. She's motioning to your office phone which is blinking with the call on hold. You break out of your temporary daydream still seated with your eyes on the window.

"Oh right. Yes. Thanks!"

The rest of the afternoon passes comfortably because you put on your headphones and start blasting music. It helps you to focus on the emails you need to return and the forms to fill out and it erases the sound and reminder that Joel is just outside your window sweaty and gorgeous.

You see Alex begin to pack up her belongings, done for the day and you realize it's past five. The paperwork for the sanctuary proposal is on your desk, almost finished but you stand up stretching.

You jump slightly when Joel comes out of nowhere to stand at the end of your desk. You pull off the headphones, raising your brows at him.

"Heading out. You wanna ride home?”

"Sure," you nod, always happy when you don’t have to take the crowded and often overheated bus. You’ve been spoiled with rides with Joel as of late.

"Meet you at the truck."

You consider leaving the proposal paperwork behind but then decide it's good to work on it when your mind is still fresh with ideas.

Alex gives you a funny look as she passes you to leave for the night.

"You're sure he's not your boyfriend?"

You force a laugh and wave her off.

"Gotta pick Sarah up from her friends' place first if that’s okay," Joel explains as you get into the truck. "Play date."

You nod your mind on the paperwork on your desk. You wonder how many competitors are going in for the same grant. You need to keep your mind on that because if you let it wander its going to wander right into Joel Miller’s perfectly tight jeans.

You don't drive far and you're at a Mediterranean styled house with bright green grass and pale pink lowers along the lane heading into the front door.

You watch as Joel ambles to the front door, knocking briefly. You can't hear from where you're seated in the truck but you see a tall, beautiful woman with light brown hair answer the door smiling and saying something to Joel.

She moves to give Joel a tight one-armed hug inviting him inside. You watch as her hand skates down his back, resting at his tailbone in a way that feels far too familiar. A bolt of jealousy hits you like a train. You don't know why but you don't like how familiar the woman is acting.

He's not yours. Stop being an idiot.

You force yourself not to watch Joel and Sarah as they come back to the truck. You don't want to see the woman give Joel a needless goodbye hug. You smile though when Sarah reaches out to hug you around the neck before you help her into her car seat, buckling it and winking at her.

“You have fun?”

Sarah nods. "Daniel is nice. Can he come play at my house again, Daddy?"

"Sure babygirl," Joel nods.

Again? You know it’s only been a few months of hanging with Joel and Sarah but how have you never picked up on this before? You try to affect a casual tone as Joel starts the truck and heads for your place.

"How long have Daniel and Sarah been having play dates?"

"Uh, about a year or so. Ever since he started at the same daycare."

"Oh," you nod, your eyes narrowing as you look out at the passing landscape. "Neat. What does she do?"

"She's a teacher."

"And her husband?"

"She's divorced."

"Mmm."

Your hand goes to the seat belt across your chest, squeezing tightly as your eyes fix themselves to the passing greenery outside your window.

Your jealous.

Joel realizes this as he glances to see you frowning out the window. He sees the tensing of your jaw and narrowing of your eyes. A jump starts in his belly at this, making his mouth go crooked as he grins to himself.

You're jealous of Daniels mom, Tess.

Joel can admit that Tess is gorgeous. Definitely his type with her no nonsense personality and attractive face. And yes, there had been one time about eight months back when he had dropped Sarah off at the same birthday party Daniel was attending. Tess had smiled at Joel, asking if he wanted to grab a coffee before they had to return to pick up their kids.

She'd ridden with him in his truck, and they talked about her recent divorce and how hard it was to be single parents. Halfway to the nearest coffee shop she'd put her hand on his zipper, startling him.

"C'mon. Make this easy for me," she'd said huskily before he pulled over to a deserted stretch and she had gone down on Joel in his truck.

But that was ages ago and something they had acknowledged came from a very lonely place for both of them. They'd never done it again, never even come close.

Joel won't admit it out loud but he likes you jealous. It makes his pulse tick knowing that if you're jealous it's because you want him.

And that's good because he wants you.

He tried to put it off as a burgeoning friendship, the thrill of connecting with someone new. But he knows that's not it.

It's not friendship he's thinking about when he fucks his palm thinking of your face. It's not wanting you as a pal that has him groaning in the shower most mornings, spilling all over his hand. It's not goodwill that plagues him with dreams of you so scintillating he wakes up hard and his cock weeping.

"It's such a nice day," you muse, looking at the beautiful stretch of sunny day over out the window. Joel agrees, leaning back in his seat. He darts a look at his distracted daughter in the rearview mirror and then back to you.

"Should w make a quick stop at the p-a-r-k?" Joel murmurs, not wanting Sarah to hear in case you don't feel like it. “Get some i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m?”

"Sure," you nod. "I'd love t-"

"Daddy why did you spell park and icecream?"

Sarah’s tiny brow is furrowed as she looks up at her dad from her carseat. You hold in a giggle at Joel's face.

"The price you pay for having a genius daughter," you grin.

Fifteen minutes later the three of you walk up the cobbled steps of Walnut Creek park. Kids are shrieking and playing, the slide bustling with color. The cyclists on the nearby path weave through the milling figures of parents watching their children. Sarah is too young for the big slide but she makes a very big show of pushing your hands away when you offer to help her onto the swing.

“No. I’m a big girl,” she informs you. “I don’t need help.”

You step back, shooting Joel a devastated look at the rejection. He laughs at your reaction, pulling you into a friendly side hug and you both watch as Sarah walks off to talk to another girl her age.

“Last year she told me that when she's fifteen I'll be dead.”

“Jesus,” you breathe, forever in awe of the oftentimes brutal nature of children. “How did you handle that?”

“Laughed like it didn’t bug me and then that night I cried alone in the shower.”

You burst into a loud laugh at this, folding over as you catch your breath. You hadn’t been expecting that. Joel grins so widely at having made you laugh his cheeks hurt. His hand is dropped from your shoulder and you immediately miss it.

Sarah waves to you from atop the climbing structure. You both return it before you lapse into a comfortable silence.

“What ice cream you gonna get?”

Joel ponders this for a long while. “Cookies n’ cream.”

“That sounds really good.”

“You?”

“Buttered pecan.” You widen your eyes at Joel’s grimace “What? It’s so good!”

“Old lady flavor,” Joel teases.

“I’m sorry but if anyone of us is old-“

“Sarah already told me I was gonna die soon,” Joel interrupts with a chuckle, nudging you with his shoulder. “Let me live my last years in peace would ya?”

The laughter continues and you feel a strange feeling flooding you. It’s not lust, that’s too easy. It’s something different, something that makes you feel like you’re glowing but from the inside. It makes you feel close to Joel in a way you can’t explain properly and you suppose this is why when you fall into a comfortable silence again, you’re the one to break it.

"You know when you and Sarah took me out for dinner," you say to your shoes. "And you asked me, uh, about the first time we met and...If I was the kind of person to yell at a stranger and everything?"

Joel tilts his body to face you head on. You don’t look at him, even though you want to. You feel safe in his eyes.

"I was getting a really important phone call when you pulled up. A call that I was really stressed about from my mom. About my dad."

"Your dad okay?"

"Uh, no," you shake your head ruefully. "But, he hasn't been for a long time. That's kinda the- anyway, that's, I just wanted to let you know. It was never about you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

You can feel Joel regarding you. It cuts through the sound of laughing kids and the feel of the warm sun on your back. You've just shared a lot about a topic you hate just as much as he hates talking about Michelle.

"Between the two of us, we've done and said some stupid shit to each other," Joel says after a beat. "But my apology came with flowers so... I guess I win."

You jerk your head up to see Joel looking down at you smugly and you burst into laughter at the attitude in his face.

"I'll make sure to bring chocolates next time just so I have a fighting chance," you argue playfully.

Your attention is broken by the sound of Sarah calling for the two of you to look at her as she proudly goes down the slide.

A short while later with ice creams in one hand (Sarah picked cookies n’ cream like her dad. Traitor.) and Joel holding his daughters free hand as you walk back to the truck, Sarah twists to look up at you.

"Can you come to my house?"

"Sarah, she had a busy - " Joel begins just as you say: "Sure."

Both of you pause as you hear the others response. You feel your heart gallop at what you perceive as rejection. Is it lame that you agreed so readily?

"Or maybe I shouldn't -" you begin just as Joel says: "Great. Okay."

You both shoot a laugh at each other before you duck your head in embarrassment as Joel announces it pasta for dinner, and no, it’s not Kraft Dinner.

///

You and Sarah set the table as you sneak furtive looks at her dad. He has a hand towel draped over one broad shoulder, his t-shirt tight in the sleeves. He's focused on the meal at hand and when Joel is focused he has the cutest little lines between his -

Stop.

Dinner is delicious as always. Joel is actually quite a good chef. Not as good as Maria, but definitely more attractive.

When Sarah suggests a movie you don’t wait for Joel to make an excuse for you. You readily agree, smiling at her as she scrambles off her chair, spaghetti sauce around her mouth. Joel calls her over to him at the sink, wiping her mouth clean with the dry dish towel.

“You got it everywhere but in your mouth,” he chides with faux exasperation.

"Daddy can you make special popcorn?"

You look over at Joel, intrigued. "Special popcorn?"

"Jiffy Pop," Joel translates before smiling down at Sarah. "Yeah I think we have some. Go get in your pjs."

Sarah races off and you watch as Joel scours the pantry for the shiny foiled pan. He brings it to the stove, shaking it as it swells, popping. It’s a quiet moment, strangely relaxing just watching Joel shake the package and listening to the sporadic pops.

Sarah runs back down in giraffe pajamas tonight, her eyes bright as she views the popcorn on the stove. She runs into the next door and hear your name being called shrilly through the wall.

"Sounds like you're being summoned," Joel says with a head tilted in Sarah's direction. "I'll finish up here."

Sarah has insisted on The Little Mermaid for the fourth time this month (probably more when you're not here.)

"I used to watch this movie when I was little," you tell her as she works the DVD from its case. You want to offer to help but she’s got quite the independent streak in her today and you don’t want to challenge it.

"Did you watch movies with your mommy and your daddy?" she asks, grunting as she works the shining disk from its case.

"My mommy and daddy worked a lot so I didn't see them much," you explain. "I watched a lot of movies by myself."

Sarah looks piteously up at you. "My daddy watches with me."

"I know." You move a strand of hair from falling into her eyes. "You're so lucky to have a dad that loves spending time with you."

You have to admit that Joel is a really good dad. He spends time with Sarah, real time. He answers her questions, plays her games, never shuts her down. Sarah fiddles with the remote as you consider that Joel is probably one of the best dad’s you’ve ever known.

Joel brings the fresh popcorn into the room a few minutes later. It seems Sarah is never finished with snacking and you enjoy this fact about her greatly.

He stops at the armchair, looking over at you and tilting his head in the direction of the blanket hanging over the back.

"You cold?"

"A little."

He grabs the plaid blanket on the armchair and passes it to you. It smells like laundry detergent as you place it over your lap.

"Daddy, you sit here," Sarah commands pointing to the right side of you on the sofa.

You smile at her bossy little self and giggle when Joel rolls his eyes and does as she commands, putting the popcorn between you. Sarah clamors onto the sofa, pushing the popcorn bowl into her dad's lap and settling in between you two. She hands her dad the remote.

"We share," she informs you as she pulls part of your blanket over her legs. She turns to Joel. "Press play, daddy."

Sarah's legs start bobbing in anticipation as she crams a handful of popcorn into her mouth, crunching softly.

The familiar logo for the movie pops up onto the screen and Sarah begins humming along to the intro. You feel your heart melt a little when she tilts her head against your side, snuggling.

It's strange to think that at one point you genuinely disliked Joel Miller. That being in his presence was such a daunting prospect. Because as you sit here on the sofa next to him with a drowsy Sarah between you, warm and cozy, you think there are few places you'd rather be.

Why does this feel like a date?

Yeah there was a movie and popcorn but that's where the similarities to a date ended. But then why is your heart galloping at Joel's nearness? You sneak a glance at him out the corner of your eye, fixated on his strong profile. "Sebastian's so . . . funny," Sarah says a short while later, her voice faltering. You glance over to see her wide eyes shuttering sleepily. Joel has noticed this, shifting her slightly to see her face.

"Ready for bed, babygirl?" Joel asks softly. Her large eyes shoot open wide, her body jerking straight

"No. I'm not sleepy."

You and Joel exchange amused looks before your attention is back on the movie. You grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl, munching quietly as Sarah's eyes drift shut once more. She’s out like a light.

You could point this out. You could laugh and take her up to her bed, tuck her in and leave. But you don't. You pretend you haven't noticed anything and keep your eyes on the tv.

You don't want to leave. You like how warm it is, how sweet it feels to have a slumbering Sarah leaning against you. How safe you feel. There's a crack of lightning and seconds later a distant rumble of thunder.

"It's pretty late," Joel observes quietly as you both look to the window. "Bus can't be safe this late."

"I'm used to it," you reply, your eyes still on the TV.

"You can stay the night if you want."

Images of Joel and his bed slam into your brain like a bucket of cold water. You've seen his bedroom and you can so easily image Joel holding you by the wrists and fucking you mercilessly into his mattress. Joel with his head tilted back as you suck him off, his fingers tangled in your hair. Joel thrusting up into you against the wall as you cling desperately to him and-

Holy shit. Stop! He's being nice. Don't make it something it's not just because you haven't had decent sex in a year.

"That's really nice of you to offer but I don't want to put you out."

"Its fine," Joel replies quickly, his eyes still on the TV as well. You remind yourself he's just being polite. This is how the Miller men are - thoughtful, even chivalrous.

You like that about him. You decide not to answer him and instead turn your attention back to the redheaded mermaid swimming onscreen.

Joel's got his left arm balanced on the back of the sofa, his hand inches from your shoulder. It's close enough for you to tilt into if you want, not that you ever would.

"This movie'll be the death of me," Joel says out of nowhere. "That or the fucking hair bows she keeps putting in my hair when I'm napping. Nearly went to install drywall with a glittery Barbie one last week."

The visual of Joel surrounded by burly men while doing construction work while wearing a Barbie hair bow is almost too comical for words.

Not wanting to wake Sarah you hold in a sharp titter, a small stream of gentle giggles escaping you instead. You can see Joel's profile, his mouth curved into a small smirk at your laughter.

You snuggle down further into the sofa, tilting your neck against the back of it. You can see Joel's hand out of the corner of your eyes, his fingers tapping along to the beat of the song.

Sarah makes a soft coo in her sleep and you sweep a hand through her coiled hair out of habit.

It's funny because you'd never understood the appeal of domestic life, or even of having children. But this scene with the two of them makes you reconsider it. There's a comforting sweetness in it and when you’re here with them it feels natural.

"Thanks to Sarah I feel like I have this whole movie memorized," you say turning your head towards Joel with a smile as another song begins.

You lose track of what you were about to say next because instead of looking at the tv, Joel's head is leaned back on the sofa and he's staring at you. But it's not his usual harsh look he normally wears.

No, this look is gentle and warm and accompanied by the softest smile you've ever seen on him.

It takes your breath away.

Joel is normally so guarded, his features stern and unreadable. But right now his face is so open it's like you're really seeing him and he's luminous. You can't look away, can't stop watching his dark eyes scan your features as if you're a map he's trying to read.

His fingers twitch almost imperceptibly near your face. You blink as he raises his forefinger, not even having to lift his palm from the sofa as he grazes a fingertip along your cheek.

He pauses there, waiting for you to pull away, to break the moment, but you don't. You stay there, your skin tingling where he's touched it.

You feel trapped in his gaze which has moved from soft and open to dark with obvious desire licking the edges. His long finger continues tracing down to your jaw, dragging slowly before moving to the corner of your mouth.

You feel a frisson of energy coursing through you as Joel slips his finger up over the seam of your mouth, blinking slowly when he sees your lips part.

His eyes slide down to watch his fingers' journey, resting on the plump flesh of your trembling lower lip and pausing again, his eyes flicking back to yours.

What the fuck is happening?

His finger is on your lip, as gentle as a kiss. You wonder if he can feel the hot huffs of your shallow breathing on his fingertip. The look he's giving you makes you feel warm and fuzzy. It makes you feel bold, like you want to suck his digit into your mouth just to taste him.

"Mmmph," comes the small grunt of a stirring Sarah between you. Her curly head raises just as Joel pulls his touch from your mouth and you jerk back .

You suddenly feel like you've run a marathon. You're flushed and nearly breathless. You shift away from the two of them, hating how cold it feels to do so.

Sarah drags herself to a lean, her back against your side.

"Can I have more popcorn?" Sarah asks giving a stretch and looking at Joel through drowsy eyes.

"Maybe tomorrow, hon," Joel says softly. "Right now it's time for bed."

Sarah makes a whine of protest, but she still pulls herself off the couch with a grunt. You go to stand and put her to bed but Joel beats you to it.

"You've done enough for two lifetimes," Joel says pulling Sarah into his arms and shooting you a small smile. "I'll be right back."

You watch him leave the room, Sarah's chin balanced on one broad shoulder so she can wave at you.

"Night!" She calls out sleepily.

"Night night," you say gently as you watch them disappear up the stairs.

You can hear Joel's feet padding along above your head putting her to bed. Anticipation is curling in your belly, knowing that when he comes back downstairs there's a good chance you'll continue what you think he'd been starting.

You and Joel. The thought is flabbergasting. You hated him not so long ago.

But now? Now just the thought of his hands on you have your body quivering. You imagine his arms around you, pressing you into the sofa as he --

Woah. Calm down. There is no you and Joel.

You immediately sober.

Isn't this what happened with Paul? You thought he was much more serious about you than he actually was. You'd read the signs so wrong, convinced he was dedicated to your mutual future. You'd fallen so hard so quickly and it had hurt you so badly.

Suddenly it's as if you've swallowed a stone and are left with a sinking sensation.

You're just a babysitter. A service. And he's just the brother of your friend. Maybe he wants you, maybe he was just sleepily not thinking, maybe he's horny and you're just convenient.

What the fuck are you doing?

Why are you still here? It's late and this isn't your house. You should be in your own home finishing details about your work and the sanctuary. Not sitting in Joel Miller's house daydreaming about his hands on you. This man who up until not that long ago you couldn't even stand.

Without another thought the purse is over your shoulder and you're pulling on your boots, opening the door for a quick getaway.

"I forgot I have to finish up the sanctuary proposal before tomorrow’s meeting," you shout up the stairs. "See you later!"

You close the door before you can hear what exactly Joel calls down to you. It's muffled behind the heavy wood slamming behind you.

You hate every step that takes you away from them. You hate that your cowardice has you jogging down the street in panic, you hate that you have feelings for Joel Miller, you hate that you wanted to stay.

But most of all you hate yourself.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #fanfiction #fanfic #dad joel miller #joel miller #pedro pascal

307 notes · View notes

corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

Text

the devil you don't know (or however it goes)

hunter/raider!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: When Joel's men bring back the (adult) daughter of a rival group of hunters, he sees an opportunity.

Warnings: DARK, dub-con, Joel Miller is not a nice man, suspension bondage, abduction, captivity, themes of torture, mentions of past sexual abuse (not Joel), starvation, dehydration, a smidge of knifeplay, a pinch of bloodplay, seriously dead dove do not eat, ambiguous ending, reader has suicidal ideations because of anxiety and threat of imminent death, I mean it guys, this is somehow less depraved than the last raider!Joel but way darker, author makes up stuff about how garage doors work because google failed her but she's probably on a watchlist now so, canon-typical violence, gags, overnight bondage in an unsafe environment, reader's age isn't specified but she was an adult when the outbreak started

Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst.

also on ao3.

Back in the before, in all the movies and books, when the damsel in distress or dashing hero was captured, they woke up clueless. Thinking they were home before it all settled in. They’d write off the pain as a hangover or a friend’s shitty couch.

That’s not how it happened for you.

When your consciousness first blinked back into the world, you were already having a panic attack. Your brain had registered the clues long before you were involved in the process.

Your cheeks are already streaked with tears before you can open your eyes. Your throat is dry and aching, and you can’t breathe.

Of course, you don’t realize it’s a panic attack at first. You just assume you’re dying. Here in this damp, cold… garage?

Recognition snaps you out of it. You’re still gasping, ragged, like you’re full of broken glass, but you’re alert enough to look around.

You’re alone. Small mercies. Or maybe not, given the way you’re tied up. Coarse rope forces your arms behind your back, wrapped from wrist to elbow. Your shoulders ache from being yanked backward, but the length has some slack, at least, between you and the bracket on the thick steel wall.

No. Not a wall. A door. You’re tethered to a huge door, inflexible accordion-style metal punctuated with heavy-duty brackets. No windows, no rotting wood. Impenetrable.

The door isn’t closed all the way, but it’s locked into place. Even if you got your hands free, it would take time and strength to remove the locks and open it enough to slip out.

The air coming through the bottom is chilly but fresh.

It helps. Focusing on the cold shushes the other alarms in your body. Enough to realize it's not just your arms that are tied.

There are loops of rope around your thighs, tethered to the same point as your hands, and loops around your ankles, which are attached to the side walls nearby. Both grant you enough slack to move a little but hold your legs wide enough to prevent standing.

Not that it matters, you think, as a door on the other side of the room swings open.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” croons a man as he steps through the frame, the soft twang plucking at your heartstrings.

No. No. “Miller.”

“I was surprised to see you, too. M’boys said they found one of your daddy’s people in our territory. Imagine my face when they dragged you in.”

“So let me go. You know he’ll come looking.”

“Will he? Lotta blood out there.”

“Not mine.”

“Oh, I know. I saw the way you carved up one of my guys. You got him good.” He almost sounds pleased. “But daddy doesn’t know that, does he?”

“He’ll still look for me.”

“You think he’s going to break our pact for you? He’s gonna risk facing me over a runaway?” He pauses. “Were you runnin’ to me?”

“No,” you snarl.

“But you are runnin', ain’tcha?”

“No,” you lie. “I just got lost. He’s waiting for me for dinner.” Part of that, at least, is true. You would have never intentionally crossed into Joel Miller’s land.

“Alright, I get it. Better the devil ya know, right?” he grins.

You glared over his shoulder, refusing to look at his stupid, smug face. That was why you had stayed these last few years. When supplies ran lower and lower and your father found other ways to keep his men loyal.

At the end of the day, you had food, water, and shelter.

As you look anywhere but Joel, you see what fills the industrial metal shelving along the walls. There are stacks of boxes of bullets. Pallets worth of bottled water and canned goods. Cases of dried pasta. A couple dirty mattresses are leaning against the back wall. Your stomach sinks.

He sees you taking in the stock. “Sorry, would have kept ya in the other one, where we usually have our… guests, but see, it’s a little messy right now.” He pulls a Dasani out of a case and brings it over, pressing it to your lips after pocketing the lid.

You rear your head back.

“What, you think it’s drugged or somethin’?” Joel takes a big swig out of the bottle, a drop rolling down his chin. He swipes it away with the folded cuff of his denim button-up. “Why would we waste any of the good stuff on you?”

He offers it back up to you, and you let him pour it in your mouth. When he takes it away, you spit it at him.

He sighs. “Wish you hadn’t done that,” he says and tips the bottle over your head. “But if that’s the way you’re gonna be, I’ll go.”

But he doesn’t leave. Not yet. First, he presses and holds the button on the wall and watches as the pulley cranks to life.

The machinery grates, gears crying for oil, and you flinch from the noise. You don’t realize what’s about to happen until it does. The ropes holding you aren’t that long, and as the garage door slides up, it lifts you with it.

You scream. “Stop, please, put me down.”

Joel shakes his head, disappointment exaggerated in his scowl. “Shoulda been good. Now ya know.”

He releases the button when the door is open. You’re hanging, now, with your arms pulled to their limit behind you. Your shoulders already burn. The loops around your thighs and ankles keep you balanced at the expense of spreading you wide. You jerk, trying to… what? Trying to get out? You know that wasn’t happening, not like this. All you were going to do was dislocate your shoulders.

The late summer breeze blows in, and you shiver. Your hair and shirt are soaked.

“Don’t worry,” Joel jerks his head to the dark house across the street. “Ain’t got neighbors.”

He goes to leave, and you can’t help it. “Don’t, please!”

He stops and turns around, head to the side like you’re a puzzle he wants to figure out. “You gonna shut up, or do I gotta take care of that?”

Blood drains from your face.

He comes over to you and pulls a filthy bandana from his pocket. He rolls it up and ducks behind you. You try to lock your jaw, but he digs his fingers into the hinges until you open a little. He presses the bandana into your mouth, yanking back on it, and tying it tight behind your head.

“Night,” he tips his head, flourishing a hand like a fucking cowboy in a Stetson, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You don’t sleep, waiting for hungry dogs or Joel’s men to find you trussed up.

When he comes back in the morning, you’re a wreck. You survived the fucking apocalypse, but none of it could have prepared you for this. You’re blinking in and out of consciousness.

There’s nothing but the pain. You’re sure you would have cried or thrown up, but you’re so dehydrated now that you can’t even spare a tear. It’s not lost on you that you got into this situation by wasting water.

“Chilly in here,” he says by way of greeting, tugging the bandana off you.

You keep your eyes closed. Imagining his smug smirk is bad enough, you don’t need to see him see you like this.

“You shoulda worn a jacket, sweetheart.”

“Did,” you croak, and wish you hadn’t fallen for his bait.

“Ah, someone took it from ya? Must have been a nice one.”

It was. It was patched up and ugly, but so was everything in this world. And it was warm. Heavy denim with quilted down lining. The last thing you’d ever take from your father, you thought.

He walks around you. You’d stiffen if you could, but you’ve long been stuck, muscles given out.

“Alright, let’s get ya down.”

At least the dehydration saves you from the whimper you almost let out. But it’s silent, and if Joel notices anything, he doesn’t react.

He walks back over to the door and presses the button. “S’gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warns before the door jerks backward, click click clicking as it lowers. It’s slow, but when your legs touch the ground, you may as well have plummeted.

You scream, wrenching it from your haggard throat, hands balled into fists behind your back. When you’re fully on the ground, you collapse against the door, only sparing a wince when your head bounces against the jutting metal seam between panels.

“Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.” He crouches down in front of you, same ratty denim shirt and jeans, same scuffed up boots. “You ready to behave?”

You nod, barely moving, but he gets the message.

“Y’look thirsty.”

You crack your eyes open to peek at him but can’t. They roll back into your head, lids fluttering.

You’re vaguely aware that he leaves and comes back but have no idea how much time passes. He crouches back down in front of you, and you hear the crinkle of a decade-old plastic bottle.

“If I give you this, are you going to spit it at me again?”

“No,” you whisper.

“You gonna ask nicely?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, but your brain is mostly static, so you give up without much of a fuss. “Please.”

He hums his approval and brings the bottle to your lips. He only lets you take tiny sips, infinitesimal in the arid expanse of your mouth. He pulls it away far too soon, and a soft sob leaks from you in its absence.

“You can have more later. Don’t need you gettin’ sick all over my garage.”

He leaves.

When he comes back late into the evening, you’re asleep, but you startle awake when he turns the light on.

Your wide eyes follow him as he moves about the garage. When he finally approaches you, it’s to offer more water. You accept it immediately, opening your mouth for the bottle before it even reaches you.

“Learned your lesson, huh? Good girl.”

It’s accompanied by a sneer, but that doesn’t stop the way your pussy clenches for a minute. Given that you’re still fully clothed, he remains blessedly unaware.

“Can you just, like, shoot me now or whatever,” you mumble. You know you’re not leaving that garage. You’ve seen where he keeps the top supplies. You know which house this is—or at least, the numbers on the house across the street.

“Nah,” Joel says as if you’re discussing what to eat for dinner. He sits down in front of you, knees bent up, leaning on them with the arm holding the water bottle. “You’re gonna help me first.”

“Why would I help you if you’re going to kill me?”

“Because I’ll make it quick for ya.”

You think you might throw up the water.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gestures at you with his loose hand, now grasping a closed switchblade. “You know how this goes. Seen your pops do it plenty, right?”

You nod.

“I don’t think you’re gonna make me, though,” Joel muses, and scratches his chin with the outside of the blade.

“I was running,” you blurt. “If I tell you everything, I swear, he’ll never know, I just want to—”

“‘Fraid not,” he says, shaking his head. “Nothin’ personal, sweetheart, just can’t trust ya.”

The way you’re staring at him with your pretty eyes, glistening with fear, makes him scowl harder. He flicks the blade open and watches as a tear escapes before you close your eyes.

“Promise?” you whisper.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll make it quick, if I tell you everything.” You’re shaking, and realize you’re probably about to have another panic attack as your breathing grows shallow.

“Yeah, I promise,” he says. He stands up and watches you, the way you’re clenching your hands into fists and trying to breathe out of your mouth.

“Jesus. It’s not gonna happen right now, calm down.”

Before he leaves, he gives you more water.

You’re awake when he comes back the next morning. He sits in front of you, legs crossed, and sets a cloth full of dried meat between you, and another bottle of water.

He picks up a thick strip. It doesn’t look like the shit they used to sell at grocery stores. It looks like they’ve salted and dried their own fucking jerky.

You stare as he rips off a piece and eats it.

“What? Y’ain’t got pigs?”

You shake your head.

“Jesus,” he sighs. “Is there even anything to take, or am I wasting my fucking time?”

“Lots of guns,” you shrug. “Some food. Not like you’ve got.”

Guns were more than enough of a reason, and you both knew it. He ripped another piece off and held it to your lips.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he says while you chew. “I’m going to ask you a question. If I believe your answer, you can have somethin' to eat or drink. If I don’t believe you, that’s when things get tricky.” He opens the switchblade and sets it next to the water.

It takes hours, but true to your word, you tell him everything. The layout of the old campground your father took command over. Patrol schedules. Planned raids. Locations of guns, food, medicine, everything.

By the end of it, you’d had two sticks of the jerky and the whole bottle of water. You look more alive than you have in days, given that you’d been thoroughly lost for two before stumbling across his men on patrol.

“Why’d you feed me?” you ask when he stands to leave. “Aren’t you about to kill me?”

“No,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Gotta see if your information is good. Probably won’t even make a move for a week or so.”

You tense. “You promised. You promised you’d make it quick.”

“I promised I’d make it quick when I kill ya. If you told me everything. Can’t prove you did until it’s done.”

He doesn’t know what he expected you to do, but screaming was not it. It’s a wounded, rageful thing. He hates it. He stomps back over and covers your mouth, blade in hand. It presses against your cheek, and you hiss.

He pulls his hand away and watches the blood drip down your cheek. You don’t scream again, but there’s something in your eyes when you stare him down.

“Coward,” you whisper.

His hand wraps around your throat, pushing you against the garage door. He doesn’t remember kneeling down close to you, but that’s where he finds himself as he squeezes, bringing the knife up above his hand.

You aren’t struggling, yet, His grip isn’t that tight. Some air still leaks, and you laugh. “C’mon,” you taunt.

He lets go. You slump down a little, chest heaving. There’s blood dripping down from the small nick in your neck to your cleavage.

You watch him watch it. “Can you at least clean that up if you’re going to leave me here?”

He doesn’t know what possesses him. It has to be the unhinged look in your eyes, spreading to him like poison. He grabs your jaw in the hand with the blade and pushes your head to the side so he can lean down and lick the blood off your breast. You moan.

He spits it to the side, and turns your head back to look at him. Your lips are parted, pupils blown. “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, leaning back, putting distance between him and your tits.

“C’mon,” you repeat, but this time, it’s heady.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” But he doesn’t wait for you to answer. He grabs your jaw again and kisses you. It’s not kind or soft. It’s all teeth and snarls and the knife against your cheek. But you kiss him back, because it pleases the ravaging wildfire of rage that lives in your chest. Fuels it.

He pulls back. “Shit," he mutters.

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

He lets go. Stands up. You think maybe he’s going to get his cock out, but he stalks over to the door. “Or what.”

He slams the door so he doesn’t have to hear you howl in fury after him, spitting insults.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

By the second morning, you’re starting to panic. You’re so thirsty. The last bottle had a few dregs in it, just a sip, but it's just out of reach. The only light you have is when it creeps in from the little gap between the garage door and the uneven concrete.

When he comes that evening, he’s ditched the denim. He’s got tight dark pants and a gray t-shirt on. You don’t look at him directly as he gives you water and more of the salty jerky.

He crouches down in front of you again. You’re getting tired of it. Of his stupid pretty face and this stupid garage. Your arms are numb, and the pounding in your head hasn’t gone away since the first day. You don’t even know how long you’ve been here anymore.

“Why’d you ask me to fuck you?" It’s less of a question than a statement, but you know he expects an answer.

“Dunno. Thought maybe you would.”

“I’m going to kill you. Your pussy ain’t going to change that.”

“Didn’t expect it to.”

“What, you a virgin or something? You trying to get fucked before you die?”

“Or something, yeah,” you mutter.

“Shit.” He can’t believe he’s considering this. It feels like crossing one of the few lines he hasn’t crossed.

It’s not lost on you. “Are you having a fuckin' moral dilemma about this? You’re gonna gut me, and you’re trying to figure out if it’d be fucked up to have sex with me?”

“Not gonna gut ya,” he says. “Said I’d make it quick, didn’t I?”

“Oh my god. That was so not the point.”

“Shut up. Look at me.”

You do. He’s holding the blade again. “I verified your information yesterday. We’re going to make our move tomorrow. I’ll be back by sundown. You still want this?”

It feels like he dumped the water on you again. You shiver. So that’s it. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be gone.

“Yes.”

“Fine. But we’re doin’ this my way.” He walks away, and you think he’s going back inside until he stops and presses the button.

You’re shocked enough that all you do is gasp when the door lifts, pulling you into the air. He stalks back over to you and holds the blade up. “Hold still.”

You’re hanging in the fucking air. What does he think you’re going to do? Fly away? But you hold your breath anyway while he slides the knife between your skin and clothes. When you’re bare to him, he drops the knife and grabs your waist.

“You done anything? Anyone ever make you cum?”

You shake your head and murmur, “No, no one.”

When you look up at him, you’re surprised to see something almost soft behind his eyes. You glare. “What, is it going to make you feel less guilty if I have an orgasm?”

“What do I got to feel guilty for? You fuckin’ begged for it.”

“Then fuckin’ fuck me already,” you snap. Your arms hurt again. You want to fuck him, you want to land your fists against his stupid face, you want to not fucking die tomorrow.

But you can only have one of those things, so. “Please,” you say, and sigh.

He cups your breasts, stroking thumbs over your nipples. He leans over and licks, and you moan again, soft this time.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t gotta do that. Just fuck me.”

“Ain’t doin’ it for you,” he lies.

You don’t protest again, not after he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. He brings a hand to your cunt and thumbs your clit, sliding two fingers down to start working you open for him. He eases the first one in through your slick, and you whine.

“I’m not gonna be nice,” he says, panting a little. “It’s going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching as he stretches you open. Your legs are held so wide they ache, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from rolling back when he picks up speed.

He holds you tight when you cum so your arms don’t jerk too hard. It’d be a shitty end to a shitty life, you think, to wait all day with dislocated shoulders for him to come home and slit your throat.

Finally, he pulls his cock out. A man of his word, he doesn’t go nice or slow. It does hurt. His cock is thick and long, and he makes it fit even as your body tries to reject him. He hooks his hands under your thighs, forcing you to put some of your body weight on him as he fucks up into you.

It takes the pressure off your arms, and you suspect maybe he's strong enough to fuck like this without the help from the ropes.

The burn is exactly what you wanted. It stings, and you cry, silent but for a few whimpers. He pulls another orgasm out of you with his clever fingers on your clit.

When he comes, he pulls you to him and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. You wail, but you also cum again as he fills you.

You expect him to leave you there, dangling and dripping his spend. But when he lets go, it’s just to lower you back to the ground.

He tucks his soft cock away and zips up, staring down at you. You lay against the door, trying to catch your breath.

“What’d you mean by ‘or something’?” he says, surprising himself.

“S’nothin,” you sigh.

He sits down, offers you water. You drink and watch him, tense and untrusting.

“Was that the first time you’ve been fucked?”

“First time I ever wanted it,” you say.

His jaw ticks. “Answer one more question for me, ‘bout your father’s camp.” He waits until you meet his eyes. “If you’re strugglin’ for food, how’s he keeping all them happy?”

You flinch and look away.

He doesn’t need another answer.

You don’t expect to see him in the morning, so you’re startled when the door opens. He throws something on the floor, but you don’t have time to look before he’s crouched over you, knife in hand.

You had promised yourself you’d be brave and quiet when he came for you. But you thought you’d have time to prepare yourself, so when he brings it toward you, you flinch back and cry out. “Hold still,” he snaps. He doesn’t have time to wait for you to cooperate, so he holds your shoulder with one hand and slices through the rope with the other.

When he’s done, he jabs the knife in the direction of the pile of fabric by your foot. “Get up. Get dressed.”

You can’t stand. He huffs and pockets the knife, pulling you up. Your limbs barely move from the way they’ve been stuck, splotchy and limp from poor circulation. He helps you tug the flannel on and step into what must be a pair of his boxers.

He looks you over. “S’all I got.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re so confused. Between the pain, the hunger, the dehydration, and the fear, it’s a wonder you can string together a single thought.

“Let’s go,” he snaps as he heads for the door, like you were supposed to know already. When you get into the house, he grabs one arm and pushes you ahead of him, through a kitchen and living room and out another door.

Most of his men are in two vans, but Joel shoves you into a pickup truck. He buckles you in and waves a finger in your face. “You try anything, and it’ll take you days to bleed out.”

You just nod. You’re thinking now that he probably doesn’t want to kill you in his house. Blood all over the stockroom would be a pain in the ass.

At least you got to see sunshine again.

It’s not a long drive, but you keep your eyes closed. The autumn sun is weak, but you think you might cry as it brushes your skin.

Joel doesn’t say a word.

You don’t open your eyes until he parks. He hops out and comes to pull you out the other side, but when you see where you are, you panic and try to push him away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps. “Get out of the fucking truck.”

God. Everything you’d heard about him is true. Was he really this cruel? Monstrous enough to drag you back, to die here when you’d finally escaped?

Or—has he struck a deal? Is he going to give you back to your father?

You can’t breathe.

Joel crowds you against the truck, hands on your shoulders, and shakes you a little. “Snap out of it, I ain’t got time for this. Stick with me and keep your mouth shut.”

For a moment, neither of you move. You get control of your breathing and realize he hasn’t restrained you. He didn’t give you shoes, but you still know this land far better than he does. You told him all your father’s secrets, but not yours.

“Don’t,” he says. It’s the softest he’s spoken to you yet.

And, god help you, you nod.

Two of Joel’s men are struggling to hold your father when Joel drags you into the living room of the main cabin. He’s holding your wrists behind your back, his gun pressed into your side.

“Oh, thank god, honey, you’re okay,” your father says, but his face falls when he sees the gun. “C’mon, Miller, let her go. She’s not a part of this.”

“She is now,” Joel says. “Found her on my land. Ain’t that right?”

You want to close your eyes, want to ignore your part in this, want him to just fucking shoot already, but you can’t look away from your father’s face.

“I swear to god, Miller, if you laid a hand on her—”

“Like your men did?” He waits and doesn’t receive a response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You know how it is,” your father says. He can’t read Joel, never could. “Everyone’s gotta contribute somehow. Keep morale up,” he plows forward, oblivious to the dangerous way Joel’s eyes have darkened. “Look, I can look past it. Whatever you did, she probably had it coming, for trespassing. We can call it even.”

Joel’s slow smirk is feral. He nods. For a moment, your father breathes with relief. But Joel isn’t looking at him.

His men move quick, and your father is on his knees in just seconds. They struggle to hold him down with hands on his shoulders, but he stops fighting when Joel lifts the gun away from you.

He doesn’t aim it at your father, who has to watch as Joel flips the gun in his hand and offers you the grip. He didn’t even notice that Joel had let you go.

You don’t say anything. You look at Joel for a moment, and your father watches you slowly move to take the handgun. He has the nerve to look relieved again, until you stop, holding it in both hands in front of you, looking at it.

“What are you doing? Shoot him!” your father says.

You look up at your father, grimacing against the bile rising in your throat.

You look at Joel again, gun heavy. You wonder what would happen if you let it drag down, out of your fingers, to the knotty pine panels that cover every surface. You wonder what would happen if you clasped your fingers around the weight of it and raised your arm to the left.

Joel’s men watch him, unsure. He holds up a hand and waits, watching the glow from the hearth dance across your face.

“Shoot them, you stupid girl, and get me out of here.”

Joel steps closer, puts his hands on your waist, and leans in. “Up to you, darlin’,” his hot breath against your ear.

You pull the trigger.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dark!joel miller #raider!joel miller #hunter!joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #dead dove do not eat #kinktober 2023

180 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 2 months

Text

Dear Arkansas Daughter

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A truce [2.8k]

Warnings: guilt, Andie being a menace, so much yearning, Ellie has an anxiety attack, comfort, June pushing her Mary Oliver agenda once again

You don't speak to Joel all throughout the winter break. You get so busy with family events, work, and painting that you don't even notice it until a song he recommended comes on while you're working, and you reach for your phone to tell him about it. You stared at his contact for a little too long, debating your options, before you finally sighed and threw your phone on your bed.

Sarah's home for the break. He's probably busy with the girls. The last thing he needs is to hear from you after you got out of his truck without even saying a proper goodbye. The silence feels like a staring contest or a challenge of wills to see who will break no contact first. It sucks, but thankfully, Ellie is none the wiser and even texts you Merry Christmas with a picture of her and Sarah with reindeer ears on the abnormally cold December morning. You reason this is the best-case scenario for a really shitty situation. No reason for anyone to get more involved than they absolutely have to, right?

Andie's reappearance on Texas soil is a welcome reprieve from the guilt. You pick her up from the airport once she gets back from visiting her parents in Dallas and run into her arms like she's a long-lost lover. "You're here!" You yell as you squeeze her tight.

"You're here!" She mimics. Her dark curls tickle your face, and she laughs loudly in your ear, but you don't care. Just having her within the same zip code again makes you feel like a kid. On the drive to your apartment, you sing along to a playlist she curated specifically for your time together— a perfect mix of Beyonce, ABBA, and Joni Mitchell— and talk about everything from her parents to work to Vienna weather. She takes all of five steps into your apartment before she guns for your newest canvases drying against the wall.

"Those aren't done!" You scold but you couldn't stop her from fawning over them if you tried.

"Are you kidding? These are amazing." She says, gasping when she sees the corner of another one peeking out behind the stack. "Babe!"

"Alright, alright, calm down. They're still in the early stages. They probably won't look anything like this when they're done."

"You're right. I'm sure they'll be even better when they're done," she calls as you walk into your bedroom and drop her suitcase at the foot of the bed. You don't have a guest room, and there's no way you're gonna make her sleep on the couch, so you get to have a good old-fashioned sleepover again. You’re secretly really excited just to sit in bed and do nothing with her. When you walk back into the living room, she's holding an old, reworked painting with a fond smile. "Are you going to submit these for exhibition?" She asks, and you shrug as you lean against the back of the couch.

"I don't know. Maybe? They just don't feel done."

"That's because the longer you stare at something, the more things you want to change about it."

"It's not a bad thing to want to make sure something's perfect."

"If you wait for perfection, you'll never make anything, and you know that." She says, cocking an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes at how well she knows you. "Isn't that what you tell your students?"

"Oh, God, please don't pull the teacher card on me right now. I'm supposed to be on vacation." You groan, and she laughs.

"Does it count as vacation if we have to go to the student showcase tonight?" She asks.

"Yes, it does because you're here, and I don't have to lecture a group of thirty teenagers about pointillism," you say. "And you really don't have to come. All I have to do is show up to support the kids for a couple of hours and leave. I'll be home before nine, and then we can go out and actually do something fun."

"Is Hot Single Dad gonna be there?" She asks, waggling her eyebrows at you, and you give her a look.

"You said you'd stop calling him Hot Single Dad."

"Hot Single Dad is so fun, though," she whines. "Also, you're avoiding the question. Is he gonna be there?"

"Ellie's work is being shown, so yeah, most likely, but there will be lots of people there. I doubt we'll even see him."

"Oh, I'll see him."

"Andrea Lynn," you scold, and she throws her hands up. "We're gonna go and be professional and not cross any lines that could get us in trouble, right?" You think you're saying it more for your own benefit than hers, but she still puts up three fingers and nods.

"Scouts honor."

The gallery's atrium is buzzing with conversation and excited kids from all across the district. The winter sun set long ago, but the warm lighting of the space makes it feel a little less oppressive. Small trays of refreshments make their rounds as you talk with other teachers and some parents you know. You introduce Andie to each of them, mostly to sing her praises about being a professional musician in Vienna, and she chatters away with anyone about anything. You easily kill half an hour just mingling with people before the exhibition officially starts.

At the hour, someone on the school board (you don't know their name or position, and honestly, you think it's too late to pretend like you care enough to find out) stands on a makeshift stage and says something about the importance of art in academia. You doubt it's a sentiment he actually shares, considering you've never seen him at any other art-related events, but you clap politely anyway. Halfway through his spiel, you just barely catch the sound of squeaky boots coming through the door and turn to see the source without fully thinking it through.

There, through the crowd of heads, you lock eyes with Joel. Tommy and Ellie are at his side and wave politely. Sarah must've gone home before the New Year. You think you remember him saying something about her working at a clinic in Boston? You're a little disappointed you won't get to meet her, especially after hearing such amazing things, but you can't focus on that. Joel's eyes don't move from yours, even when Ellie and Tommy turn their attention to the speaker at the front.

His hair has gotten long since the last time you saw him, the curls defiantly sweeping around his ears after an obvious attempt to tame it, and he looks well-rested. Despite the extra length of his hair, his beard has been recently trimmed and the salt-and-pepper stubble well maintained. He's wearing a nice dark green shirt (a Christmas gift?) and a well-broken-in denim jacket. He looks good. Of course, he does. Andie notices you're not paying attention and bumps your shoulder.

"'S that Hot Single Dad?" She whispers, and you shake your head.

"Not here." You beg. She seems to want to question you further about it, but she doesn't. You're sure she'll buy you a drink or two to loosen up after this and spill your guts. You sit through the rest of the speech without any more hiccups before you're finally allowed to view the gallery.

Everyone is all smiles and excited chatter when you enter the colorful room. Thrilled parents take pictures of their kids next to their work, and proud art teachers point out their student's talents to others. There's a wide array of art. Anything from photography, drawings, paintings, sculptures, and even a video of a performance projected onto the wall. You catch bits of people’s conversations and hear a lot of chatter about the artist from your school. You don’t need any more context to know who they’re talking about. You and Andie walk side-by-side in silence as you look at the different works, only talking when you come across one of your kids' works. She makes you take a picture in front of each one, and you feel a little silly, but you can't fight the pride in your chest.

Andie has always had the unique ability to celebrate you for things you wouldn't celebrate yourself for. In reality, all you did was push them to make the art and consult them through the process, but she reminds you that they might not even have made anything if it weren't for you. It makes you feel special and seen. It makes you wish she lived closer so you could do the same for her by showing up to performances and taking pictures of her in her element so she can cherish them. It makes you forget about Hot Single Dad until Tommy rushes up to you, calling your name.

"Mr. Miller, it's good to see you." You greet politely, but he's out of breath and looks stressed as he looks at both of you. He softens when he sees Andie and takes a deep breath to pull himself together.

"I don't believe we've met," he charms and offers his hand to Andie. "I'm Tommy, Ellie's uncle."

"I'm Andie, the forever teacher's pet," she shakes his hand and gives you a look over her shoulder. "Honey, you didn't tell me how handsome Ellie's uncle is." She says. Tommy smirks and looks flattered, but mentioning Ellie brings him back to the moment.

"Ellie's askin' for you." He says, and you furrow your brows and look behind him.

"Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She got real upset bout somethin' but wouldn't say. She just said she wanted to talk to you." Fuck, you think. Did she find out? If so, how? There's no way Joel would've told her, especially tonight of all nights. Is she upset about how her art is being shown? Is she mad at you? Possibilities run through your head and twist your stomach into knots, but you don't hesitate to follow Tommy. If she says she needs you, then you need to be there.

Andie follows closely behind as you and Tommy weave through the crowd until you come to a stairwell off the side of the gallery, away from overlapping voices and bright colors. When the door creaks open and echoes through the empty space, you see Joel and Ellie sitting on a step, tears staining her face. Andie says something about hanging back, and Tommy agrees to wait with her, but all your focus is on the crying kid in front of you. You wait until the door shuts behind you to settle onto the step under theirs and pull Ellie's hand out of her balled-up fist. Joel watches you carefully but doesn't try to stop you.

"Hey," you say gently, like she's a scared animal. "What's goin' on? I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I," she tries, but her voice catches in her throat, and more tears well in her eyes. You rub your thumb across her knuckles and shush her gently.

"You're alright. Take a breath, okay?" She does, and Joel reaches out to rub her back soothingly. A few more tears fall down Ellie's face as you wait her out. You catch Joel's eyes over her shoulder, and he gives you a grateful look. All you do is nod.

"I'm not good enough to be here," she finally gets out. "Everyone's work is so much better than mine, and I... I think they made a mistake. I can't compete."

"That's not true. That's what your anxiety is telling you. That's not even close to the truth." You say firmly. She shakes her head as she looks at her dad.

"We shouldn't have even come." She says, and he pulls her under his arm, kissing her temple.

"Honey, they took your art for a reason. We're not here by accident. We're here because you worked hard and made somethin' so beautiful that they had to show it."

"He's right," you say. "Hundreds of students apply for this exhibition every year, and every year, hundreds of students get rejected. But not you. You worked and earned your spot here. How many days did you show up early to my classroom to work on it, huh?" You ask, and she wipes her eyes. She seems to calm down a little at your words but still shrugs like she’s unsure of herself.

"I don't know."

"Ellie, you were in my room for at least a month straight working on this. Somedays, you were painting before I even had a chance to turn on the lights. You got up early and stayed late, and it shows. You made something so wonderful the district couldn't keep it a secret. Do you know how many people are talking about your yellow painting?"

"People were talking about it?" She asks, and you nod, squeezing her hand.

"They kept saying they'd be surprised if you didn't win, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your art teacher. I'm saying that because it's true." You say. She chews at her bottom lip and stares at her shoes as she thinks.

You knew about Ellie's anxiety long before this moment. She's spent many planning periods in your classroom venting or crying about it, and you pointed her to the correct resources. She's in therapy and on medication to help her control it, but it still rears its ugly head every once in a while. With all the teenage emotions and daily battles, you're not surprised that it does. But it does surprise you that she can't see how special she is. She works so fucking hard— sometimes too much— and she gives her all in everything she does. Of course, people are going to recognize that greatness. Of course, she deserves to be here. Of course, she's going to be amazing.

"Every time I look at it, I just see all the bad things about it." She admits, and you sigh. Of course, she treats her work the exact same way you do.

"I do the same thing," you say, and she looks at you with wide eyes like she wasn't expecting you to actually cop to it. "It doesn't matter how much time I spend on it or if I like the concept; I will find a million things wrong with a piece before I can admit that it's a semi-okay piece of work. I have a canvas sitting in my apartment right now that makes me want to throw up every time I look at it."

"How do you get over it?"

"I'll let you know the second I figure it out," you say, and she smiles a little now that she knows she's not alone in her internal fight. "You deserve to be here, kid. You are hard-working, creative, and smart. You are going to make so much beautiful art in your life, you won't believe it. And it's true that it won't always be the best, and you won't always love it, but the thing all great artists have, regardless of medium, isn't talent. It's resilience. If you wait for perfection, you'll never make anything, so you have to keep going and making things even when you feel like it's bad because the world needs your art. The world needs you, Ellie." You say, echoing Andie's words from earlier. She takes a deep breath, and the weight on her shoulders seems lighter. Her anxiety rolls away like a wave from the shore. It will be back again and again, but she knows people are going to grab her before she can drown. She knows she's got lighthouses. She knows she's okay.

"Thank you," she mumbles, and you nod as you squeeze her hand. She relaxes into Joel and looks up at him. "'M sorry."

"You've got nothin' to be sorry for, baby girl. I'm on your team," he says. He looks at you and chews the inside of his cheek. "We're both on your team." It's a peace offering. An end to the challenge. An acknowledgment that you can't ignore each other forever. You take a deep breath and let your free hand squeeze his calf where Ellie can't see, letting him know you know.

You read a poem once in college about not being afraid of joy and taking advantage of the happiness while it's there. You remember reading the words "Joy is not made to be a crumb" and feeling your chest crack open in that funny way that only art can cause. It couldn't have been longer than two hundred words, and you read it so long ago you're surprised you even remember it, but you're glad you do. You're glad Joel and Ellie came into your life. You're glad you made so many memories with him, and you hope he'll let you in enough to make more as friends. You're glad you called the parent-teacher meeting when you did.

You decide joy is not made to be a crumb, but neither is affection. In that cold, dingy stairwell in downtown Austin, you think you could paint something about this feeling. You think you could be okay with its imperfections. You think you could even submit it. You think you could win the bet.

TAGLISR: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller au #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller fluff #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fluff #tlou fic #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #joel miller fic

96 notes · View notes

xmissrogersx · 1 month

Text

“Shit, i love this skirt” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Fluff. +18. Period issues.

a note from pris: i write this during my period, and all i want to say is I NEED A JOEL IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila’ masterlist

-Do you have the same one but in another color?

“Count to 10, Paris" I said softly, otherwise I'm going to kill the stupid girl in front of me. One, two, three...

-It's a blanket they picked up on patrol, not a pair of Manolo Blahnik.

-What's that? -said the one next to her. You're kidding me, they must be in their 40's and have no idea what i just told them.

-Are you going to take it or not? -they looked at each other, causing me to take a breath and pick up my mental count and avoid exploding.

-Are you sure there isn't another color?

I could swear my eye twitched the moment I got up from my chair, which caused the others in the room to turn their gazes towards me.

-Hey…why don't we go outside, okay? -Maria approached me and pulled me out, preventing something worse from breaking out.

-Sorry, but i couldn't stand those two assholes anymore —I explained, putting my hand on my belly as I suddenly felt a cramp, making it obvious what was happening to me. I hated it when my period came. She put my hand on my lower back for support.

-Why didn't you tell me and stay home? I know it sucks when it happens, honey.

I nodded slightly, not ignoring the truth, although deep down I wanted to keep my job at Jackson.

-Does Joel know?

-No, no. I didn't want to worry him, he had the patrol with Tommy and if I told him he'd probably chain me to the bed and not let me out.

-As if you don't like it when he do that —she said, raising her eyebrow, provoking a laugh from both of them.

-Don't make me laugh, I feel like I'm going to fall over.

-Speaking of Rome —she nodded his head at the entrance.

Getting off his horse and cleaning his shotgun, he was wearing a T-shirt that clung to his body due to the heat of the incipient summer that was already approaching, along with pants that molded his strong legs. Even if they had shouted that they were attacking us this damn moment, I couldn't take my eyes off him.

-All mine...—Maria laughed softly when she saw my expression.

-You're so horny, girl —walking over to the Millers, but not before approaching Joel, who quickly raised his gaze to me. He walked away from them, and in big strides was already lifting me up in his arms.

-Joel...

-Why didn't you tell me, baby? —He locked his beautiful brown eyes in mine.

-I love you... very, very much —I smiled innocently.

-That's not going to work,pretty girl.

-I'm sorry, daddy —I whispered the latter in his ear and kissed his lobe, getting a growl from him and a little giggle from me.

We walked through the front door, where he deposited me on the living room couch and then kissed my forehead and went upstairs to prepare the bathtub, since the book I had read and under Mary's advice, the hot water helped the cramps in my belly.

Just for one second imagine for a minute this man with glasses on reading a manual about the female period. When I thought Joel couldn't be more attentive and gentle, I caught him in that situation.

-Hi, Paris —Ellie walk inside and set his backpack aside.

-Hi,cutie, how was school?

-I hate fractions, seriously, why the fuck do I want to know how to divide a cake, I just split it and that's it.

-First of all, language. Second, it's important that you know it, even if you don't believe it, it's useful for everyday life.

-Like what? -He frowned and I opened my mouth to answer, but no word could come out of my lexicon.

-You're right, they're not good for shit —I answered with a laugh from her.-Well, I'm going upstairs…

-¡Paris, your skirt! -she suddenly exclaimed. I turned my head to literally see the fabric covering my ass with a small red stain.

-¡La puta madre! ¡Shit, i love this skirt! it's my favorite, i was going to wear this for your presentation.

-We can wash it, Maria must have something or some weird substance to fix it.

My eyes glazed over at how worried she was about me. Just like her father. I wrapped my arms around her body, to which she reacted in kind. On the outside many times Ellie appeared to be a tough and somewhat coarse girl, but it was only because of the constant struggle she had gone through for the longest and shortest part of her life. She's just a kid.

-I know how bad it is when it happens to you, and you don't deserve it —she said with her face in my chest, her voice distressed.

-Relax, I'm fine —I whispered, stroking her hair —I couldn't be better, I have my family and that's all I need.

-Being a woman sucks, I wish I was half as brave as you —she looked up at me, to which I laughed to hug her tighter as I quickly denied.

-I don't agree, ¿you know why? Because we are intelligent, fearful, brave. You faced unimaginable things, Ellie, and every time you came out of it, you got stronger.

-She’s right.

We both turned around when we heard him. He walked towards us and wrapped us in his arms to lift us off the ground laughing in unison.

-Let go of me, I have to go, old man —she pulled out of his grip to run away.

-So...we have about, what, ¿2 hours for Ellie's play? —I frowned uncomprehendingly, to which he once again pulled me back to my feet —I brought chocolate almonds, just the way you like it.

Damn crazy hormones. Tears began to fall down my cheeks as if a waterfall was flowing down my face. He tried to calm me down but I put my hand on his lips, silencing him.

-Joel, please, you don't want to take me like that after you see me from behind —I said embarrased.

-You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Actually, I like the way you looked at me when I came in from the raid —I opened my mouth wide.-You made me feel attractive —he said softly, to which I immediately brought our lips together.

God, I'd been holding back since this morning, points for holding back.

-Joel Miller, did you ever look in the mirror? —I stroked his mustache and beard.-Because I can assure you that Jackson's women do.

-I don't care, darlin'. The only one who can bring me to my knees is you. And I should also say that I've seen you get looks from more than one idiot at the bar.

I sighed and kissed his cheek. We went into the bedroom, and he put me down on the bed to bend down and start taking off my shoes.

-You're mine —he said kissing my thigh as he began to undress me, making me hold my breath. He wanted to etch into my skin that I belonged to him, now and always.

51 notes · View notes

ohraicodoll · 1 year

Note

Does Ellie ever (consciously or not) call Red mom?

Ellie has never had a mom really. The word isn't something that comes to her mouth naturally.

She grew up in FEDRA school with most of the orphans and only had Officers and Supervisors and things like that. It doesn't mean she didn't want one, didn't crave to have that kind of affection and love and care and protectiveness. In the brief time since getting bit, she had mother figures for a very short time. Marlene, who was direct and driven but compassionate. Tess, who explained the world to her before and beyond the walls. Maria, who was cautious and so wanted her to just be a kid and be like everyone else. And then there was Red, who consistently showed she'd protect her against whatever the world threw at her. Would kill and bleed for Ellie but also kept an arm on her when she wasn't paying attention while walking and made her brush her hair and gave her small smiles and never told her to shut up.

Red who she had named when her real name refused to leave her lips and she could see the conflict in her eyes and Ellie said the first thing that came to mind. She latched onto her and wouldn't let go until Joel agreed she could come because while Joel was quickly filling that fatherly spot in her mind, she needed to just feel what it was like to have a mom. And she was it. She never flinched at all her flaws, never called her annoying, was forgiving of her mistakes and relentless in her defense. Red who had murdered her way and found her in Denver, both soaked in blood, and promised her, "I will always find you." Red was her mom and it was so engrained in her head that when she saw her across the Jackson courtyard and heard the teenage boys calling her a freak nearby, Ellie instantly was on them, punching, yelling, "Don't you fucking talk about my mom!" It was her arms that pulled her off of the guy and dragged her away silently, tucking her into herself and taking her back home. When someone yelled at them, Red's look silenced them quickly. She didn't say anything to Ellie, only sighed and shook her head, pushing her through the front door and sitting her down on the couch while she grabbed the first aid kit.

Red cleaned every split knuckle and bandaged them up without a word. Meticulous and gentle, cleaning every bit of blood from her hands. Then when she was done, she cupped her cheeks and kissed the top of her head gently before pulling her in to her arms. "You need to remember not to tuck your thumb in when you punch," she muttered against her hair, "You're gonna break it, Ellie-bean." Ellie only smiled at her.

#anon asks #asks #series: feral #Ellie Williams #Ellie fanfic #tlou ellie #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x feral reader #feral reader #raicodoll writes

289 notes · View notes

fountainpenguin · 12 days

Text

"I'm not the kind of girl to get messed up with you- Hello! ... You're all right, but I'm here, darling, to enjoy the party..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 31 - “Flame (Etho, Skizz, Pearl)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Scar files a microaggression complaint with the HALO team. Pearl helps Scott settle in while he recovers from glitchy code. They have a spat that's not about a sticker.

Meanwhile, SnifferMyFeet and Etho separate their souls… and start an honest talk about Sniff's identity as Sniff, not Joel. It was needed. It's for the best.

(First 900 words under the cut)

---

Etho - Fox

Status: Resting

Self-taught programmer, full-time hero

💙 💙 💙

He gets it now.

It's like ice in your water. It's like marshmallows in your cocoa. It's like wind beneath your wings. The final week before he's due back in Between (reluctantly, but definitely due), Etho flops on his bed and sprawls his arms to either side. Is he giddy? He doesn't mean to be, but this feels…

… Oh, it's a game-changer. Which is exactly what he texts Cleo after scooping up his admin panel. They won't see it if they've left their private server, and since Session 2 of Dog's Life could be starting any day now, there's no telling how long that may take.

Etho: hey so Etho: remember after limlife 4 or 5 when we talked about burnout?

Grocery shopping. For a family dinner- he and Cleo both made one (like a peace offering) in a way that wasn't really flirty married life roleplay, but more like… regular, everyday person roleplay. Did all their shopping together so they wouldn't cook the same thing. Call it 'date night' if you want; he walked her home and there might've been a little 'dramatic logout' roleplay in there. We don't… We don't need to go into detail about it.

To some people that's romantic and to some it's completely gross. Not really sure why… It's a natural process, isn't it? Soul-eaters can't help being what they are, and you may as well snap at endermen hybrids for struggling with eye contact or shame unthreaded players if they expose their glitches instead of keeping them covered up. This world's too big and life too long for arguing. Do you really want to make enemies and be rude to people who are going to carry the echo of your words for the rest of their lives?

Lend a helping hand. Extend a little kindness. Be polite. Respond to the hurt. Try not to avoid responsibility when others are counting on your strength. Sit with the injured, even when the night is cold. They're simple goals, but so easily forgotten these days.

Etho: I think you said if I felt stuck then I should break my routine for a while

Nothing happens for several minutes. Etho rotates words without meaning through his head, then types out something else.

Etho: you were right. I get now why you go on adventures with Martyn. Why you let him and no one else log you out all the time. Thanks for the advice. Let me know next time you need a favor. Rating this cycle 10 of 10 and I owe you big xD

He takes a long, guilt-free nap in his cushioned bed. Catching up on block updates and videos really drains a guy (especially this close to the end of the Hermitcraft season, not to mention Vault Hunters and a Life series on top of it), but he spent all morning prepping the bed and it's already providing every agonizing tick of its worth. Two hours later, he's stirred awake by a buzz on the admin panel.

ZombieCleo: yay! So glad that worked for you <3 I want to hear all about it. Maybe in a couple weekends you can watch MCC with me and the kids + Martyn? If we catch a minute alone, I can recommend more stuff you might be into ;)

The kids refers to Bdubs and Scar, who skated through Limited Life like energetic teenagers spreading their wings. It's goofy, it's endearing, and Cleo's got her roleplay voice on because she knows it makes him snort. His tail gives a twitch as he tries to keep a smirk from creeping out behind his mask.

Martyn, huh? he muses, but doesn't say that. Cleo circles between lovers, friends, and exes like a pollinating bee.

Etho: whoaaaa Etho: inviting a fox? that's dangerous! ZombieCleo: nose out of your tail, fur boy Etho: dibs on Martyn, I see ZombieCleo: If you're serious about returning the favor, Martyn says Rhetoric's down here and this might be our best chance at smash and grabbing from your mum's museum Etho: Hm… ZombieCleo: I mean, you did leave my eggshell when you rescued Grian and that other soul

Yeah- it looked distressed. Now Sniff's down here. He can actually talk now when he couldn't before. Honestly, not the worst decision he could've made.

If anyone's going to try getting into the Fox Dragon's museum, a fox has the best chance of doing so. It's kept separate from the nesting cave where souls respawn, but even the deadliest traps won't keep foxes out since they'll just respawn. Unless they're traps that can't be dodged even with careful planning, or some sort of system that short-circuits code. The phantom roost is nearby, right? Frankly, phantoms are excellent trackers, they can fly, and they're probably the fastest of all non-swimming hybrids, so a phantom alone provides great security as-is.

Etho: I'll think about it. Not tonight, though. Full moon fox face isn't for me. Also if there are raiders there then that's probably the worst time to show up ZombieCleo: Fair ZombieCleo: I can think of something else, but if you ever get the chance, I want it back Etho: duly noted ✌️ ZombieCleo: btw say hi to Scar and Bdubs when you see them. They've been cracking nonstop jokes since you disappeared. One can only imagine they're attempting humor to bury immense throes of pain Etho: D:

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

21 notes · View notes

orcasoul · 9 months

Text

Am I too late to love you?

Summary: Reader and Joel are in an unestablished relationship. Joel breaks her heart when being asked to admit his feelings and she leaves their shared home. Reader gets into trouble while on patrol without Joel causing him to face his own truth and go in a desperate search for her.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Joel being well.... Joel lol, clicker attack. Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

"I love you Joel.... and I know you love me too!"Joel's expression turned cold. "I don't love you! I never have and I never will" He hissed, fixing you with an icy stare. Even though you know Joel was the type person to bury his feelings deep down, hardened by 20 years of grief, a part of you believed (somewhat foolishly) that maybe you meant enough to him for him to finally let his walls down and allow you into his heart. It seems you were wrong. "I don't believe you" you reply, trying to stop your lower lip from trembling. "I've seen you take down infected and other people to protect me. I've seen genuine care and concern from you countless times, and the way you look at me. People don't do that for people they don't love!" You realise how pathetic you sound right now but you're past caring. Your mind is awash with confusion and disbelief at his hostile reaction. A part of you expected him to react with some form of hesitancy, being Joel and all but you didn't expect him to look at you like he is now; with anger and scorn.

Since meeting Joel and Ellie a few months ago you began to feel that maybe there were things worth living for. And after all the dangers the three of you faced to get Ellie to the Fireflies and to get back to Jackson you realised that you loved these two people more than anything in this world and would do anything for them. Shit what have I gone and done? You were sure that if you told him how you really feel that he'd finally admit his feelings for you too. You'd both been through so much together for whatever this was between you two to mean nothing. Surely saving your ass on numerous occasions and fucking you until you're a trembling mess in his arms meant something to him! "I've watched your back just like you've watched mine. That's what it is, nothing more" the tone of his voice cold and distant. "And fucking me every night?! What's that to you Joel? what?... Was I just a way for you to blow off steam?!" "That's right" he retorted emotionlessly. Your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach at that revelation.

All you could do was stare in disbelief as his words sank in, crushing your very soul. "I thought...." you chocked out but Joel cut you off "What? You thought we'd fall in love, get married and play happy families? You've been reading too many of those romance fairy tales. This isn't a fucking fairy tale darling, you need to grow up!" A loud sob escaped you as your head dropped and you brought your arms in to wrap around yourself, as if to somehow find comfort in your own embrace. If you had looked up at that moment you would have seen Joel's expression turn from indifference to sorrow, his eyes beginning to fill with tears at seeing your own, knowing he alone is responsible for them. But as soon as he felt the sting behind his eyes he blinked them back, keeping them locked away with the feelings he has for you. Feelings he won't admit even to himself so how could he admit them to you?

It was easier for him to just ignore what his treacherous heart harboured. Deep down he knew he loved you, more than any woman he'd ever known. He'd do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe, to hear you laugh, to make your life as comfortable and happy as possible. So why is he so hell bent to break your heart now? He know's why; He's not good enough for you. He's done things, terrible things in the past to survive and he knows without a doubt he'd do them again if he had to. He's damaged goods and you deserve so much better than him. He's also nearly 20 years older than you. How much longer could he protect you for? You deserve someone younger and stronger who can keep you safe and someone who's not emotionally closed off. He hates himself in this moment for hurting you, for making you cry. He never should have let things go this far. If making you hate him meant you could move on with your life he would do it, even if it would torture him for the rest of his life. After all he would do anything for you.

You've never felt heartache like this before, except for when you lost your family not long after outbreak day. But that was different, they had no choice but to leave you alone in this world once they became sick, but this man whom you loved and foolishly believed loved you is choosing to leave you as if you mean nothing to him. You could physically feel your heart breaking. It was like he had ripped it out of your chest and cruelly smashed it to pieces in front of you. How could you have been so stupid? How could you have been so naive to believe those moments of what seemed like tenderness meant anything? Anger begins to rise in you as you contemplate everything that Joel has said. How dare he treat me this way after everything!

Glaring up at Joel through puffy and strained eyes you thought you saw a glimmer of.... sadness? But you don't care now. He's made it clear where you stand. "Fuck you Joel!" you scream at him while pushing him back by his shoulders. But him being much bigger and stronger than you he barely moves, making you feel even more insignificant to him! "I thought we had something here. I thought the three of us were a family.... or the closest thing to a family. You used me and made me believe you were somebody you're not! I'm done, I'm fucking done with you!" The room suddenly felt suffocating and in that moment you needed to be anywhere he wasn't. You storm out of the house grabbing your coat as you leave.

The night is quiet. Snowflakes are gently falling making Jackson look like a picture from a postcard. Walking down the lit street, kicking the freshly fallen snow on the ground, your mind begins to drift back to all those mornings you'd wake up with Joel's arms around you. Feeling the warmth of his bare chest against your bare back and feeling that there's no where else you'd rather be. You remember all the times he made you feel loved and wanted. You sigh and shake your head realising none of it was real. You wipe away the tears and rub your cheeks in an effort to warm them up in the chilly air. As you approach the main street of the town your hear the familiar sounds of music and laughter coming from the Tipsy Bison. Even now you sometimes can't believe that life can carry on as normal (or as normal as normal can be in a post apocalyptic world) and you find yourself appreciating these moments more and more.

Having walked almost the whole length of the town you decide to sit on a boardwalk sheltered from the snow outside the grocery store. Lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice Ellie and Dina approach you. "Hey Y/N, you missed a great movie tonight" Ellie beamed at you but her smile dropped when she saw your bloodshot and weary eyes. Clearing your throat you force your most cheerful voice passed your lips. "What one was it this time?" you ask while looking over to the movie hall which was beginning to empty, the sounds of happy children making their way home with their families. Ellie glanced worriedly at Dina before sitting next to you. "Oh, it was just about a kid who travelled back in time in a car and crazy scientist who had to help him get back to his own time" she said as if it was no longer important. "Huh..." you laugh halfheartedly. "I always loved that film growing up".

After a few moments of silence Ellie asks "are you okay?" "Yeah I'm fine." You couldn't sound any less convincing if you'd tried. "You're obviously not fine Y/N. What happened? Is Joel being a dick again?" At hearing his name the floodgates opened. Ellie wrapped her arm around you as you leaned into her shoulder. "Ellie I'll see you tomorrow" Dina awkwardly said with a wave over her shoulder; Ellie nodded in reply. "Tell me what happened" she whispered softly. "It's over. Whatever me and Joel had... it's over. I told him Iove him and he ....". The tears won't stop flowing and you bury your face in your palms. "He told me he never loved me and that he was basically just using me. He made me feel so fucking stupid for believing he actually loved me" "I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Ellie was seething. "No." you gently grab her wrist before she can get up. "It's pointless Ellie. There's nothing you can do. It's over and that's that." Ellie shook her head in disbelief. "It can't be over. Anyone can see how much you love him and how much he loves you!" "He doesn't." You sigh in defeat. "I thought he did but I was wrong the whole time."

Ellie furiously jumped to her feet pulling your hand with her. "Come on, we're going home and you two can talk this through" she demanded but you remained sitting. "I'm not going going back". Ellie dropped your hand "What?.... but that's your home Y/N! Where else would you go?" Her voice began to crack when she realised how serious you are, and your heart started to break again, this time for her. "I'll go to Tommy and Maria's. I'm sure they'll put me up for a few nights and we can arrange for me to have one of the empty properties. I'm so sorry it's come to this." "Joel's the one who should apologise, not you!" she replied, her fists balled at her sides. "You should get going, Ellie. You know how Joel worries when you get home late." You muster a small smile for her. "That's gonna be the least of his fucking worries tonight!" There was a promise in her tone and you couldn't help but chuckle quietly to yourself. That kid could be so fierce when she wanted to be. She turned her head towards you with a sadness in her eyes. "I'll come and see you tomorrow morning."

**********

Joel tossed and turned all night, replaying not only every moment of your conversation but also Ellie's reaction when she barged through the front door. She was so angry she almost knocked it clean off it's hinges. "What the fuck have you done, Joel?!" Ellie roared at him but he just sighed "Ellie, just leave it...." "No I won't. I just spoke to Y/N, she's devastated! Why would you say those things to her?" Joel shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes "I just told her the truth." "That's bullshit and you know it!" Ellie spat the words out "I know you by now Joel. I know you push people away when you start to care for them. She's the best thing that's happened to you in a long time. She's done so much for us both and you've thrown it back in her face and broken her heart. You've ruined everything!!" Joel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He couldn't argue with her when he knew every word she had just said was true. "Where is she?" He asked calmly, trying to ease the tension simmering in the room. "She's gone to Maria's and she's not coming back!" Ellie stomped upstairs, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her, leaving Joel alone to drown in his guilt and sorrow.

The moonlight spilled through the bedroom window illuminating your empty side of the bed. It was as if nature itself was torturing Joel, taunting him with the obviousness of your absence. He slowly rubbed his hand over your pillow as if doing that would somehow bring him closer to you. He missed seeing your calm silhouette beside him in the dark, hearing your gentle breaths as you slept. All he wanted right now was to have you back in his arms but he realised that would be selfish of him. This is for the best, he kept reminding himself. He found it impossible to relax. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was your heart wrenching expression. Eventually exhaustion overtook him and sent him into a fitful sleep.

Waking the next morning, groggy and heavy lidded, it took a moment for you to remember where you were. The memories of the previous night hit you with a fresh wave of grief and you can't keep the tears at bay. KNOCK! KNOCK! "Y/N?" Maria called to you from the other side of the door, "Breakfast is ready if you're hungry." "Thank you" you call out trying to steady your voice "I'll be down in 5 minuets." After visiting the bathroom and donning the same clothes you had on yesterday you make your way to the dining room. Tommy and Maria were waiting for you at the table. Judging by the sympathetic looks they were giving you, you realised you must look like shit! Not surprising after spending most of the night crying into your pillow. Tommy broke the silence. "Did you sleep okay?" You just shrugged and gave him a small smile.

He sighed, rubbed his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Something you had seen Joel do a million times. The familiarity of that action made your heart clench and you missed Joel all the more. "I'm gonna talk to my asshole brother later and sort this out" he exhaled in frustration. "It won't change anything Tommy" you reply in a small and tired voice. "He made his feelings... or lack of them very clear." Tommy looked at you with raised eyebrows "I just ... I just can't believe he'd go and do this. We all thought you guys had something solid." "So did I" you shrugged with a small, wistful smile. "I want to thank you two for letting me stay here. I'm sorry I came to you both so late. I just couldn't go back there last night." "Hey" Maria spoke softly while placing her hand on yours "Joel or no Joel, we're family." Tommy nodded in agreement.

Tears pricked at your eyes at that reassurance, only now realising how much you needed to hear that. That you hadn't lost them too. "You've both already done so much for me but I'm afraid I have to ask more of you" you say almost ashamedly. "Anything" Tommy replied gently. "Could you prepare one of the vacant houses and give me a new patrol partner? Please, I just can't face him again." "Are you sure you want to make these decisions right now?" Maria asked worriedly. "Yes, I have to." You almost break into tears again. "Okay, we'll see what we can do" Maria soothed as she gently squeezed your hand. "Thank you" you whisper squeezing her hand in return.

You tried to keep yourself busy all morning and true to her word Ellie came to visit. She brought over some of your clothes and toiletries. You couldn't help but laugh when she told you how she 'ripped Joel a new one when she got home. "You know Ellie, no matter what happens between me and Joel I'm always here for you. Nothing will ever change between us" You gesture between the both of you. Ellie nodded with a look of relief on her face as you continued "and I don't want things to be awkward between you and Joel. Just because he doesn't care for me it doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. You know you mean the world to him, right?" "I guess" she mumbled. "I'm just so angry with him right now!" her voice raising in intensity causes you to put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it'll be okay" you're not sure if you're trying to reassure her or yourself.

*******

Joel made his way to the gate, ready for his patrol shift and ready for the shit storm that Tommy would inevitably rain down on him as soon as they were alone. After he and Tommy separated from the larger group to patrol different areas Tommy spoke, his tone accusatory and judgemental. "So, you wanna tell me what the fuck happened or are we going to pretend Y/N didn't show up at my door last night bawling her eyes out?" "It's nothing." Joel gruffly replied, shrugging his shoulders. He knew this was coming and between the lack of sleep and the resulting headache he was in no mood for a lecture. "Didn't seem like nothing Joel" Tommy pressed. "Look i'm sure she already told you everything so why are you asking me?" Joel's patience was wearing thin. "Because I want to hear it from you. I want to know what the hell you were thinking" Tommy scolded.

Joel answered him with silence. "Joel!" Tommy shouted, clearly annoyed at his brothers stubbornness. "You're such an asshole on times! Don't you realise how much she loves you and after everything you two have been through together, this is how you treat her. She deserves better than that!" "Exactly!" Joel snapped, turning in his saddle to face Tommy. "She does deserve better and she's not gonna get that with me. That's why I let her go. She should be with someone who doesn't have the blood of countless people on his hands, someone who can protect her and make her happy." Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the only sounds being the chilly winter wind and birds in the distance.

Tommy knew what Joel was doing.... again. He knew Joel had been plagued with self doubt and hate since he lost Sarah, so he chose his next words carefully, hoping to drill some sense into his brothers' thick skull. "You think you can't protect her but you've kept her and Ellie safe all this time. You think you can't make her happy but I've never seen you both as happy as when you are together, and who doesn't have blood on their hands these days?" Joel remained silent, contemplating Tommy's words when the next question made his heart freeze and his body tense. "Do you love her?" Joel straightened in his saddle, gripping the reigns tighter and wishing for a distraction right about now so he wouldn't have to answer. Hell he'd even take a horde attack just to avoid that million dollar question.

After a few moments and with a shake of his head he replied "It's not that simple, Tommy." "Actually it is" Tommy said drily "Either you do or you don't." Joel sighed. "Jesus Christ Joel, just tell me!" Tommy barked slapping his hands on his thighs in annoyance. "Alright I love her! Is that what you want to hear?" Joel couldn't hold it back any longer. The usually cold and emotionless man began to crack... "I love her so much that it physically hurts knowing the pain I've caused her." Tommy looked understandingly at Joel, realising they were finally getting somewhere. "So why did you do this?" He asked softly but it was more of a disappointed statement than a question.

"Why did you tell her you don't love her? She's heartbroken." It's just better this way" Joel replied in a cold tone. "Better this way?" Tommy repeated his words "Tell me how this is better for any of you. Even Ellie has been hurt in this." A new wave of guilt coursed through Joel. He knew Tommy was right and he hated himself for hurting Ellie too. "Look..." Tommy sighed "I know how easy it is to doubt yourself. We can be our own worst enemy on times and even if you don't have faith in yourself I do. You are allowed to be happy, Joel. We all deserve a second chance. Just talk to her before it's too late." Joel didn't answer him. He knew he had a lot to think about tonight when he got home.

********

Beep! Beep! Beep! "Fuck sake" you groaned while reaching over to the bedside table to switch the alarm clock off. You hated the 5am patrols in the dead of winter, at least in the summer it was warmer and lighter. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you at least felt relieved that you had a new patrol partner, even if it meant taking the earlier shifts. You'd been paired up with a new guy called Andy, tasked with teaching him the ropes. He still had a lot to learn but he seemed more than eager when Tommy suggested you both patrol together. You know he did this for your sake so you wouldn't have to face Joel and for that you were grateful. After dispensing with the usual pleasantries and saddling up you and Andy left for patrol.

"Where are we going again?" Andy asked "We're patrolling by the river today. It's one of the easier routes. Tommy thought it would be the best one for you to learn the basics" you informed him "We'll I don't mind where we start as long as you're the one showing me what I need to know" Andy replied with a wink. He was obviously flirting but you just nodded silently, not encouraging him to continue in any way. He got his horse to match your horses pace, riding silently side by side. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but miss Joel. It felt so wrong to not have him beside you. You'll have to get used to this you sadly told yourself.

The patrol went well.... at first. You showed Andy the route and how to check and reset the traps. He seemed to learn quickly and he talked, a lot! Or maybe it seemed that way because you hardly spoke a word. You were honestly in no mood for chatting so you just let him do the talking while nodding along. After resetting the last trap it was time to head back to Jackson. But before you could tell him it was time to go you heard a sound that made your blood run cold. Click...click...click! You both snapped your heads up, looking at each other wide eyed. Click...click from another direction and then another. Shit! how many of them are there?! "Quick!" you whispered, pointing to the horses.

It would be safer to shoot them from horseback in case you had to make a quick escape. The clicking got closer as as you both mounted your horses but before you could grab your rifle in the saddle holster the horses began to panic. Deafening, high pitched, inhuman screeching filled your ears. "Shit!" you cursed while reaching for your rifle as one of the clickers charged at you, no doubt attracted by the horses' whinnying. More screams echoed as another three clickers ran towards you both from different directions. "Go!" you screamed desperately, still fumbling to get your rifle out. Andy's horse took off in panic. You kicked your horses sides but it rared up, throwing you to the ground as it sped off.

The impact on the hard frosty ground took the breath from your lungs but as your adrenaline kicked in, giving you a much needed burst of energy you immediately sprang to your feet. Your only thought was to get to your rifle but that damn horse had run off with it and now you are defenceless. You look around in panic, your heart beating out of your chest as you see your death approaching fast. Death with rotting skin, infested with fungus and gnarled teeth. You had always hoped that this wouldn't be the way you'd go out. Before you had the chance to run gunfire echoed as a clicker dropped to the ground, staining the frost and mud crimson. "Y/N run!" Andy called out, Riding back to you from a distance.

The only direction you could run was to the river. You run as fast as you can, trying to ignore your screaming muscles and the tight burn in your chest as you heave desperate, deep breaths. Bang! Another clicker down but there are two more hot on your heels. Andy fires again but misses. They're still coming, that horrendous screeching drowning out the sound of your frantic heartbeat. You stop for a moment as you reach the river bank, looking behind to see how close they are. That's when you're faced with a hard decision: Either be torn apart or jump into the river! In this moment of desperation drowning seemed like the better choice. With Joel and Ellie's faces flashing in your mind you jump!

Part 2

#pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine

75 notes · View notes

cryptic-bee · 5 months

Text

Decided I had to write Lizzie's POV because I felt like I didn't get my point across in Jimmothy's and I'm still insane over Seablings smile

anyways something something Lizzie wants the world to burn but a conversation with her brother reminds her it needs to be a controlled fire or something like that

does that make sense. do I word good enough

You can read Jimmy's POV here!!

•

It's not fair.

A blast of warmth consumes her as she enters the space after death, a stark contrast to the freezing temps of the void she'd found herself falling into moments ago, and it's not fair.

She hadn't even wanted to be part of these stupid games! But when Joel had mentioned another one starting, another period where she was left behind for Void knows how long, she couldn't stand the thought of letting him go through it alone again. It was bad enough, watching him lose his mind during the last one. Watching him lose it upon Jimmy's death, jolting awake in the middle of the night upon Joel's sudden return, upon his death. She'd never get that look out of her head - a fear she only ever saw at the end of the games, how he'd fallen into her arms and sobbed as she could do nothing but whisper to him and-

Lizzie sighs, picking at the loose threads of her dress. It's not fair.

Why her, of all people? Why was she always the one to forget, to be left behind? It wasn't fair. She wants to scream, at who she isn't entirely sure yet. But she wants to scream, to let out this stupid pent-up rage she always gained during this stupid game and-

And she's so tired. She just wants to go home.

Where is that? She wonders. She'd forgotten that long ago.

Distantly, she can hear Jimmy celebrating, and she can't help but glare into the nothingness. She can hear him being congratulated by other players and it's just not fair. Somewhere beneath it she can hear Joel calling for her, the only one who came to her party, but it's drowned out by the praise and it's like her death doesn't even matter and it's not fair it's not fair.

She shouldn't have gone to the End. She knew, she knew it was dangerous- Why had she done that? It was stupid, she knew it was stupid, so why-

Oh.

That's right. She had done it for Joel.

And somewhere she can remember being told to trust no-one, not when you're part of the Life games, and she's reminded of that look her husband had after that she can never forget. There's an ache, a flame threatening to spark beneath her ribs and she wants nothing more than to burn. But she can't, because the Void had claimed her before she could, and it's just not fair.

She feels it as a new presence enters the After-Void.

Lizzie watches, a match tossed into the already lit flame, as Jimmy celebrates his "win". Her death means nothing, she thinks. Her death means nothing because he wasn't the one in her place.

There's a part of her that wants to run to him, to cheer him on and congratulate him and he had done it! He had done it, because of her. She clears her throat, and it's a small victory when he nearly jumps out of his skin and screams.

"Congrats!" She puts on a smile, tries not to show how much she was hurting. But she lets the anger show. She wouldn't try to hide that. "You did it. Congratulations, Jimmy." Brother, she wants to say instead. Malicious and betrayed and hurt.

There's something painfully familiar about it, about being the only two left in a world only they were a part of. She watches as he reaches a hand up to his neck and her breathing hitches, knowing he must have thought it too. She squeezes her wrist to stop herself from doing the same.

"Lizzie-" His voice breaks on her name, and what right did he have to cry now? She was the one who died first. She was the one being ignored. "I wasn't- I didn't mean to-"

"To what, gloat?" Lizzie laughs, and she'll admit it came out harsher than she'd intended. It wasn't his fault she had died, but..She waves him off. "I'd have done the same. I mean- 4 seasons? You should be celebrating!" She wants to cringe, hearing herself speak like this.

There's an awkward silence between them, thick and suffocating and suddenly she regrets ever coming here.

"I didn't-" He pauses, and she can see the internal conflict he's having in his head. It was easier to resent him when he wasn't right here in front of her.

It's not fair, she thinks to herself. She hadn't chosen to leave him behind first, she hadn't chosen to forget everyone she ever loved, so why- Why was she being punished for it? She never wanted to, if she could go back to that lifetime and knock some sense into that stupid Ocean Queen she would in a heartbeat, but she couldn't do that. So now she had to be the one to be abandoned? It's not fair, it's not-

But he's looking at her with those sad eyes she never wanted to be the cause of, with cursed golden feathers and scars from death after death and he's scratching at his neck like he can tear it back and reveal gills long forgotten and-

It's not fair, blaming him for her sorrows.

So Lizzie, too tired to keep the flame alive anymore, just takes his hand - pulling it away from where he'd been digging his nails into the side of his neck. "It's okay, Jimmy. You made it. That's all that matters now, right?" Despite herself, she can't help letting some of that anger slip through.

Eventually Jimmy nods, gently squeezing her hand, and she does her best to not fall apart. "I didn't mean to make you a Red," He says after long minutes of silence, that inner turmoil never settling.

Lizzie tilts her head, a small laugh. "How many times are you going to apologize for that?" And she knows, she knows that's not what he meant, but she'll let him believe whatever he needs to. Because she was his sister once upon a time, and he still needed her, and she had time to be angry at the world later. "I already told you it was just a silly mist-"

"I missed you."

She pauses at that, and her heart aches for their lifetime in the sea once more. Lizzie can feel herself tearing up, but she refuses to break down - not in front of him. So instead she smiles, pulling him down into a hug so he couldn't see. She can't find her voice at the moment, and it's hard to navigate, now that her little brother has wings instead of fins, but she hopes the point gets across anyway.

It's not quite forgiveness, not for what she'd been put through. But it was a start. An understanding.

A new presence stumbles in as they pull away, stumbling till he trips to the invisible floor and shouting something about a...fence post? He stops, cuts himself off upon realizing where he was, and looks to the other two players.

"We're really bad at this, aren't we?”

#beebo's journal #seablings #ldshadowlady #sl lizzie #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #sl jimmy #slsmp spoilers #secret life spoilers #traffic smp #trafficblr #mcyt #mcytblr #in case my dumbass rambling at the start wasnt clear-#the idea is Lizzie wants her revenge. she wants to be angry and set the world on fire #but shes tired. shes so fucking tired and she just wants to go home #and the only things she has left of that lifetime is her husband and her brother #so she decides the world can burn another time. and she wont let that flame blind her to what truly caused her pain #or something like that #idk im very tired still lmao #oh also about jimmy's pov in this:#he's spent 4 seasons being the first one out so of course he's gonna celebrate when he finally isnt #but seeing Lizzie's state after she died. knowing he had some part in her dying first #he feels guilty #he's spent so long craving something and when he finally gets it its at the expense of his sister's life #and he realizes this was never a win. that curse is going to follow him to the grave (ha)#and he doesnt want to see the others get dragged down with him #somethin like that #no idea if it came across that way enjoy the rant if you made it down here thumbs up #giving a flower to anyone who read all of this > 🌻 enjoy

44 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Note

BUBBLES!!!! it's me again hiiiii 🥰 okay just going back to what I sent yesterday and develop the whole 'aftermath' of you getting hurt

before that I remembered something that I was going to write but didn't so: when Joel gets home to change, he takes Ellie with him and drops her off. But before leaving again, he goes to her, tells her she should stay at Maria and Tommy's because he doesn't want her to stay alone. Ellie doesn't feel like being around other people, she's so shaken she just...can't even fake functioning normally. She asks Joel if she can stay with him and with you and although he wants to say no (because she needs to sleep, etc...) he knows leaving her alone at home will do no good. They both put on some fresh clothes, go back to the 'hospital'. Tommy stays with them for a while until Joel's like "go home, we'll be alright" and leaves Joel and Ellie with you. They don't really talk, Joel holds your hand firmly and keeps it close to his lips and Ellie just sit next to him, watching your chest rise up and down. "She's going to be okay, right, Joel?" she finally asks Joel looks at her— poor girl is exhausted, her eyes are red and heavy and he can't ignore the tremor in her voice. He wants to tell her that all is well, you'll wake up and it will go back to normal but truth is, he doesn't know. A billion things could go wrong. But the protector—the father—inside of him puts on a brave face. He tells her that you'll be okay, you just need a lot of rest. Ellie watches for any sign showing he might lie to her and when she can't find any, she just lets her head fall on Joel's shoulder. Joel covers her small body with his own jacket and spends the rest of the night watching over his girls.

Okay that's what I wanted to change and now, the rest (I'll try to make this more concise lol) - ellie jumps in your arm as soon as you're awake and only lets go when you wince because she squeezed you too hard - Joel is also relieved but he kinda keeps his distance. I'm not saying he's cold or anything but he's just very careful because he doesn't want to hurt you - you get discharged quickly and you're forbidden from patrol, work, anything for the next few weeks - everything hurts btw, you can't walk, eat, shower, do anything alone and even breathing is incredibly difficult but don't worry, Joel isn't letting you - honestly if he could breathe for you, he would - he changes your bandage every single day after/before his patrol, makes you food (or kindly feed you the food Maria makes), helps you shower, helps you get dressed and does your hair - yes, he does your hair - i have a thing for that so allow me to discuss it a bit more: he takes the time to brush your hair and braid them so you don't wake up with messy hair like you hate - how does he know? well being a single father to a tiny little girl taught him a lot of things including braiding - so he takes the time at night, even if he's exhausted from the day he had and he always leaves little kisses on your cheek and shoulders - speaking of physical affection: the man will not let you go - he's either holding your hand when you take a small walk or he carries to bed or he has a hand on the small of your back or he's kissing you or, or ,or he just can't be more than a foot away from you - it's pretty normal considering he almost lost you but yeah, don't expect to have any form of personal space for a long time (and I'm not saying this as a bad thing) - he's also worried all. the. time. - the ptsd he has? skyrocketed to the freaking stars - he has nightmares almost all the time, his panic attacks gets even worse than before and it breaks your heart to see him worry over you like that - truth is, he can't help feeling guilty because again, you got hurt and he wasn't there to save you - of course, there was nothing he could have done and it was not his fault AT ALL but in Joel's mind you and Ellie can't be hurt in any way, he has to shield you from any sort of pain - sometimes after a nightmare, you don't wake up and he just starts panicking and he checking your injury, making sure you're not bleeding out or something, making sure you're still breathing - when you do wake up, you let him rest his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat - he really has a hard time with 'failing to protect you' but you remind every day that it's not his fault and he did everything he could (which is far more than enough) - ellie is insanely worried about you as well - whenever Joel goes on patrol and she doesn't have school or anything to do in the morning, she crawls into your bed and lays with you for a few hours - you're really everything to her (with Joel) and she got so scared that she would lose you as well - she handled a lot of loss before but she knew she wouldn't be able to handle losing you all in all, they love you so much they would literally prefer get impaled themselves than see you in pain and you love them just as much and I have no idea how to end this so yeah, love <3

-🪷

No, because I love this. Because this is their worst nightmare. You are the glue that keeps everything together. You are there with them for a reason and they love you, love you so much. And it's so traumatic, so real, too real. Because if you die what will they do. Of course they would pick one another up but it would be so hard.

So they cherish every single of your breath now. It's a miracle you are here and that you are alive. So they are giving their all until they are breaking apart but then they just lay there with you and that's all it takes to keep them going.

I loved this! I loved everything about this! Perfection, baby!🥺🥺

#little lily 🪷#come chit chat with bubbles 🫧#joel miller x reader

59 notes · View notes

creedslove · 3 months

Text

JOEL TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH YOUR MOM 🍓 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: this is so personal it hurts, my relationship with my mother is terrible and today was one of the days she pushed me to the edge and I thought I was going to explode with negative feelings until I broke down and I sobbed. Also, just proving my point that my life problems would decrease by half if I were married to Joel Miller 😢

TW: Shitty mom

• Joel knows damn well the reason why people often tell mean mother-in-law jokes or why their reputation is so bad; and the truth is that it is not even because of the way your mom treats him, but because of how she treats you

• it just infuriates Joel at the same time it breaks his heart to see what she does to you; the way she's so manipulative and mean, the way she acts innocent after saying the worst things a mom could say to a daughter and pretend she didn't really mean that way, or you are overreacting

• and it absolutely shatters his heart to see that even after all the emotional pain she puts you through, he sees how you somehow look for her approval affection, no matter if he has already told you to ignore her, he knows it's deeper than that, it's just the result of a lifetime of emotional damage she's done

• being unable to help you more effectively, he does what he can: he holds you, he soothes you, dries your tears and reminds you you are more than what your mom says, he reminds you he knows you are telling the truth and that you aren't just overreacting, he knows that whenever she says "it wasn't that bad" it was indeed that bad and whenever she insists on saying that whatever traumatic experience she caused you she doesn't remember because it never happened, he is aware it left a deep scar on your mental health

• and even if Joel thinks this is not very effective at all, he has no idea of how precious and important this is to you, because it validates your feelings, it shows you you aren't alone, it shows that you are respected as an adult and overall as a person, it shows you that he loves you, the good kind of love, not the supposed kind of love that burns your mom insists on giving you

• Joel doesn't give a shit if your mom says she has anxiety or whatever other crap she uses as an excuse, no mental problem in the world gives anyone the right to treat another person, let alone a daughter, the way she treats you; it doesn't matter if she wants to pass as mentally unstable, he can see right through it, she is only unstable when it's convenient for her, so that leaves Joel with another adjective for her: cruel

• he knows your relationship with her has ups and downs, sometimes you are able to spend the whole day together shopping or just hanging out and having fun, but there are days she makes a living hell out of your mind

• and even if Joel isn't the most educated guy in psychology, he knew it wasn't healthy to bottle up these feelings like you often did, because sometimes you would explode

• and today was one of those days: something small suddenly became a huge thing and before you knew it, your mom was already screaming at you as if you were a child, making you feel worse and worse and all that rage you had bottled up exploded, because you were so tired of having to walk on eggshells, never knowing if you would have an easy day or if you'd have your mental health ruined again

• so when Joel got home from work, he immediately noticed something was off; you were sniffling and trying to hide your red puffy eyes, you were so sad and you'd completely lost your appetite and the moment he questioned you what had happened - having a pretty good idea of what you were going to say, you simply broke down and sobbed

• and at that moment he didn't think of anything else other than holding you into his arms, his body was so warm and comfortable and you felt relieved to have a grip on him, to feel his muscles, his beard, to smell his scent, everything reminding you of what a loving person really was

"shh it's okay darling, you'll be fine, you don't have to tell me what happened, it's gonna be okay, I'm here and I believe you"

• Joel whispered against your ear and simply didn't move until you broke the hug, seemingly to calm down for a while; and not only that, while you took the relaxing shower he suggested you to, he made you tea, because cooking might not be his strongest suit, but you take such good care of him, he wants to at least pay you back a small portion of it

• even after shower, he can tell the tears are easily going to spill at any minute, so he decides not to talk about it, instead, he suggests watching something to distract you, it doesn't matter to him if it's a movie, a tv show or that low quality soap opera you found on Netflix you swear you only watch it ironically but you got too invested in it, he just wants to see you smile for a bit

• cuddles all the way while you both watch tv, even if you're not paying attention because honestly why does he like to watch cars exploding so much? but the important thing is that you love Joel and you're so thankful for everything he does for you

• and to finally finish a terrible day, you both make love, not fucking, but making love. It's slow, gentle, sexy and intimate. Exactly what you needed, a full dose of Joel to make you feel better ❤️

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

173 notes · View notes

guessimwritingficsagain · 9 months

Text

Wish you were here

Summary : Joel isn't good.

Warnings : Mature content, MDNI, Joel is NOT fine, memory loss, PTSD.

I'm sorry for this, I guess my great-grand mother and my grand-father loosing it aren't helping and I needed to get this out.

-------------------------

Joel was good at reading people.

When he met you, he liked you right away. You were funny, smart, sharp, even. He liked you.

Joel was not good at liking people, so he enjoyed you the best way he knew - from afar.

He knew enough about you to understand you liked to do the same. You liked your boundaries respected, thank you very much - you’d hissed as much to a man who’d gotten a bit handsy, one night at the Bison.

That had got to him - and that had gotten his hard. He could touch you, knew that, had done it before : his hand in yours to help you get up, or slightly touching your arm to get your attention … Things he hadn’t paid much attention to until he realized he liked you a whole lot. Liked you in a way he hadn’t liked anybody since he was young and in so in love he didn’t think twice about asking Sarah’s mother to marry him.

So, to know that he was allowed to put his hands on you, even in the most innocent way, when other men were left picking up their dignity from the floor, that did something to him.

Joel would love to fuck you. He also was not going to try anything because he was two decades older than you, had a bad ear, and a dick that took its sweet time getting there. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was getting older.

But he was allowed to touch you. He knew that, made the mistake of thinking he was somehow special.

So why was he fighting for his life, here, looking at you wearing a dress, smiling at some boy, like you were on a date.

He grumbled something about using the restroom and went to take a leak he didn’t need to take while Tommy and Maria kept on chatting.

He’s pacing when you come in.

‘Hey, Joel, let’s go back.’ You offer, extending a hand. When he takes it, you just lead him back, fingers intertwined and god how lucky is he ?

‘I thought you were busy with that guy.’ He says.

You turn around look at him like you’ve done it a thousand times, and answer :

‘No, Joel, I’m always with you.’

You make him sit down, then you join him, thighs touching. You take a sip of your drink and that’s when he notices it - the ring on your finger.

Everything grows cold, all of a sudden. You’re married. Of course you are.

He moves away, scratches his beard, coughs, looks at his brother and suddenly a thought makes him jump and move closer, his hand on your shoulder, squeezing. It’s a blur - he can’t quite get the words out at first, and you’re not helping because your hand is on his thighs and it’s confusing because he likes you-

He touches you.

He’s allowed.

His hand goes up your thigh, lifting your dress up -he’s not supposed to do that, you’re married. He announces :

‘Don’t forget Sarah’s game tomorrow.’

The answer is a stillness he doesn’t understand. You break it :

‘It’s Ellie tomorrow, Joel. She’s gonna play something. You taught her, remember ?’

You’re looking at him and he wishes he could kiss you. Something flashes in his mind and he remembers.

Ellie.

Before he can say anything, you get up and announce :

‘We’re gonna call it a night.’

You walk him home, and on the porch, your left hand takes his left hand and you kiss the rings there. He doesn’t know what that means, but he’ll take what he can take. So when you ask to join him in bed, he doesn’t say no, even though nothing happens.

———

Joel wakes with his nose right in your neck. You smell a little sweaty and he’s more than happy to lazily lick your neck from bottom to top. You stir, looking tired. One of his hands finds a nipple, and he whispers :

‘Wish I could put my mouth on you properly, but Ellie’s gonna want to practice b’fore the big moment.’

‘Yeah, you go ahead.’ You whisper.

‘I love you.’ He says.

You answer in kind. ———

Taglist

@pedritobalmando @amidjarin @ajeff855 @justpedropascal @sara-alonso @sarahjkl82-blog @amidjarin @sara-alonso@justpedropasc@mrsbentallmadge @farfromjustordinary @hnt-escape @kirsteng42

#joel miller x reader

22 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

Something to Fight For (part 2) Dad!Joel x f!reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions)

Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel. You have been warned. There is swearing, there is smut, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning. (That is if there is interest in my story!)

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since the most uncomfortable blind date in the history of your life, your feelings on Joel Miller aren’t exactly positive ones.

What started as a casual irritation has swiftly morphed quickly into a full blown dislike. The way he'd rushed off that night, the way he'd barely looked at you during the meal, the way he'd made it uncomfortable for everyone. The way he'd never apologized.

You know it's not fair, that after your outburst in the parking lot you left little room for him to be pleasant. And yet the irrational part that recalls the humiliation of him saying that the date was a 'waste of time' clouds this.

The worst part is now that Tommy and Maria are even more officially an item, which means you crossing paths with Joel is inevitable.

Maria is renovating the kitchen of course, which is how she met Tommy in the first place. But now that one of the larger projects are finishing up for 'Miller Construction', she tells you Joel will be dropping by to help speed her own renovations along.

She tells you this as a courtesy you think. And because this isn't your house and you don't pay rent you force a smile a nod when she tells you.

So you decide to suffer through it.

You get very good at not interacting with Joel. If you both happen to be arriving at the house at same time you quicken your pace and go through the back door to your suite.

Maria tries her best to be understanding but you know it hurts her to see you isolating when he's around.

"I know you don't like Joel," Maria says to you over drinks over night. "But I promise he's not always like new was that first night. He's actually really funny."

"I find that impossibly hard to believe."

"It's true!" Maria insists, her eyes luminous from the wine. "He apologized to me for how rude he was that night. Said he was just anxious about Sarah."

You'd wanted to ask her why Joel didn't apologize to you if he was such a fine, upstanding citizen but had decided there was little point. First impressions were everything and you'd both shown your worst.

But your days aren't all Joel focused. In fact today you make your way home with a huge smile on your face and Joel Miller isn't even in the peripherals of your thoughts.

You rush into the house without knocking, as you have always done. Only instead of cooking or reading, Maria is entwined with Tommy on the sofa kissing feverishly.

"I got the grant!"

They break apart like guilty schoolchildren and you pause at the door suddenly feeling wrong footed.

"I'm s-so sorry," you stammer a laugh feeling both embarrassed and amused.

"Did you just say you got the grant?" Maria says, throwing herself from the sofa into your surprised arms. She squeezes you tightly, bouncing excitedly.

"I'm so sorry," you say hugging her. "I didn't know Tommy was here. Hey Tommy."

Tommy gives an awkward wave and smile from the sofa.

"Oh he's fine," Maria assures you. "When do you get the money?"

"They're making it a bit tricky," you admit. "Instead of just giving me a blank check I need to submit the official work orders on the office renovations. Ya know, to prove I'm not lying."

"Annoying," Maria scowls. "So I guess the new kennels are a no-go."

You join her as she sits back at the sofa next to Tommy. You take the seat opposite them in the dark green wing back chair Maria has had since her first apartment.

"There must be a work around," you insist, letting your purse fall to the ground at your feet. "I spoke to James and he said he would think on what we can do."

James is your co-worker extraordinaire, a whiz with money and grant writing. He's the real reason you got this one. The two of you make a very good team. You're good with people, getting donations that way. You easily make human connections whereas James is pure analytical focus.

"Why don't you just get a company to do the Reno's but ask them to keep it vague on details when it comes to receipts?"

You both look at Tommy who is seated at the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees. He's looking at you both as if his reply is the most obvious thing in the world.

"The things an office Reno would need like lumber, nails, etc are things you could use for making kennels," he continues when he sees both you and Maria looking at him with rapt focus. "Just get the builders not to be specific when it comes to what the structure or structures are when it comes to the invoice you need for the grant."

It's genius. Perfectly simple and yet inspired. And the way Tommy is raising his brows at you makes you think he may just be offering his services.

"Do you know of any such construction company that would do this?" You ask with a sly smile that Tommy returns.

"I might."

Maria looks at Tommy with a gaze of such open devotion that you find yourself blushing. He returns it, and you know that if you weren't here they'd be kissing like mad.

"Alright then," you say standing abruptly. "You're hired."

Tommy does an exaggerated fist pump in the air that has you and Maria giggling. You decide on going over details at your office next week. You're amazed at how well this came together and how quickly.

"Let's go out to dinner to celebrate!" Maria insists with a wide grin. You're about to agree when there's a knock at the door. You watch as your friend goes to the door, because unlike with you they were obviously expecting this guest.

"Good timing," Maria says as she opens the door to a tired looking Joel. He's got a

Carpentry belt slung around his narrow hips. His grey t-shirt is damp at the collar; he's obviously come right from another job.

"Sorry I'm late," Joel says gruffly. "Couldn't get Marko to stop talking and finish the fencing properly."

"No worries," Maria assures him. "We were just chatting about renos."

"My favorite subject," Joel smirks. He's looking at Maria but his eyes eventually swim over to you. You make sure not to be glancing in his direction when they do.

Irritation is overtaking the good mood you'd been savouring, like a bucket of cold water to the face. Joel Miller's mere presence has you agitated.

"Were you still needing me to finish up the cabinet knobs today?" He asks.

"Nah, those can wait," Maria insists. "We've just had good news that needs celebrating!"

Maria explains about your grant and Joel forces out a barely audible congrats. You give a tight smile and equally quiet thanks.

Ugh, this fucking guy.

"Figure we can celebrate down at the Tipsy Bison," Tommy suggests, pulling on his jean jacket. "I think they have live music on Thursdays."

Joel is just standing there by the door, obviously itching to escape. He doesn't seem to know how to respond so he ends up shrugging and nodding.

"You guys have fun," you blurt as the trio of eyes fall on you. Tommy looks confusedly between you and Maria as if he's missed something.

"But we're celebrating your good news," Maria says with a voice full of confusion and hurt.

"I'd love to," you lie, slowly making your way to the door that leads down into your basement suite. "It's just I have so much prep to do this week. We have a ton of adoptions going through this month and I really need to get started."

You whirl around, opening the door and bounding down the wooden steps. You're halfway down when you hear the door above you close.

Maria is standing there, arms crossed. It's the look that you always associate with her: serious and focused.

"What?" You ask defensively even though you know exactly why she's here.

Maria gives you a serious look as she makes her way down the steps. She drops her voice to conspiratorial whisper, clearly not wanting the men upstairs to hear.

"You need to give Joel a chance."

"I am," you insist even though you both know it's a lie. You're frustrated that just by showing up he's ruined your good mood.

"I really like Tommy," Maria sighs. "And I love you. Please make an effort with Joel. For me."

"I will," you promise even though you have no intention of following it through. "I just can't tonight."

You go the rest of the way downstairs, shame rouging your cheeks. A buzzing sounds in your pocket and you bring out the phone, flipping it open to check the text that just came through.

hey how r u? Just checking in.

You give a disgusted scoff and throw your phone onto the bed.

/// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

Frank proves to be no help at all in the Joel situation once he sees him.

One afternoon you're over there waiting to eat Bill's famous lemon cake when it all goes pear shaped.

"You can't tell its sugar free," Frank is saying from the kitchen, the sound of clattering dishes. "It's just that delicious."

Bill is seated across from you looking miserable. He's already got himself a slice and is holding it in his lap. You notice that Bill never starts eating until after Frank has.

"Sugar is the silent killer," Bill murmurs.

You hold in a smile. This isn't the first time Bill has given you the 'sugar is evil' talk.

Frank is rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he enters the room with two plates.

"They start 'em young," Bill continues as Frank makes his way towards you. "They put brightly colored cartoons on the front of sugary cereal boxes for Christ sake. It's insidious."

Frank hands the plate to you, the fork clattering on the porcelain. You take it gratefully, looking at the pale yellow cake with its white swirling icing. You almost don't want to eat it, it looks so beautiful.

"This is gorgeous."

Bill gives the smallest smile in your direction and a slight nod of thanks. His bright eyes move to Frank who is taking his first bite. You know that for Bill this is the only review he cares about.

"Amazing," Frank promises Bill. "Even better than your last one."

Bill is very pleased at this and about to say something when the sound of Joel's truck comes rambling up the street. The windows are open so you tilt your head at the noise, giving an exaggerated sigh when you realize who it is.

Frank and Bill exchange an inscrutable look before Frank launches himself off the sofa to come stand next to the window you're glaring out of.

Joel pulls himself out of the cab of the truck to grab lumber out of the back. He carries a two by four over his shoulder and heads towards Maria's. His jeans are dusty and the t-shirt he's wearing clings to him with sweat.

"That's the grey sprinkle?" Frank gapes looking out the window. It's almost comical how his blue eyes are blown so wide.

"Yeah," you frown looking out at his frame loping across the grass. "The one and only Joel Miller."

"He's sex on legs," Frank informs you, pulling back the curtain with a forefinger. He cranes his neck so he can follow Joel's form moving over the lawn.

You think you must be missing something here. Joel attractive? Pffft. Stone-faced, sad-eyed, moping bastard. Your judgment clouds any attraction you might feel.

Bill shuffles over with his piece of cake balanced on his plate. He glances at Frank's open mouthed stare and then out the window at Joel. He squints as he watches Joel enter Maria's house with the wood and toolbox.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Bill frowns after he takes in Joel's form.

"Exactly," you say victoriously. Finally, someone who isn't drawn into whatever spell Joel Miller is casting.

But then you watch as Bill digs into his cake, aggressively popping it into his down turned mouth as Frank looks over with a disbelieving smile.

"Bill are you jealous?"

"No."

/// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

A month later you have officially hired Miller Construction to renovate your "office". Tommy tells you he needs to come by and do an official estimate and you happily agree.

You trip over one of the jutting floorboards as you head for your desk that morning, giving a soft grunt of irritation before stamping it back into place.

Your office is a cramped thing, built a hundred years ago in what is a converted church. It's simple with wood floors and walls and you spent the better part of the month cleaning the backyard of the space in anticipation of building the kennels out there.

It's exciting to think that you'll actually be seeing animals more regularly at your job. Usually you're just grant writing or travelling off - site for donation requests. You muse that for a job all about animals, you rarely get to see them.

James is out of the office today, you've both started on sourcing a new area for a sanctuary. You're hoping to go to the city with the idea and James is out there today seeing if the land you want will be appropriate.

You look at the big yellow board in the center wall and give a smile. On it are a variety of photos collected over the years of the animals your office has saved. Your favorite photo is that of a little redheaded boy holding a turtle and smiling widely. It was the first adoption you'd ever overseen yourself.

There is a knock at the door and you move quickly, excited to show Tommy what you're going to have him build.

Your body physically starts in surprise when it's Joel that appears behind the door looking none too pleased.

Fuck no.

Up this close he's taller than you realized his shoulders broad. He's wearing a green flannel and he looks tired.

"I thought Tommy was the one handling this," you say trying not to sound accusatory.

"He asked me give him a hand with the estimate."

"Oh."

You move back from the door, opening it so he can enter. You look around him to see empty space. "Where is Tommy?"

"He's bringing my daughter from school," Joel says stepping into the space and glancing around before looking at his watch. "Should be here quick."

"She's coming here?" You can't hide the surprise in your voice at that.

"Yeah?" He gives you with a challenging look.

"Should I --- I don't have crayons but I have some highlighters I think and I guess she can use printer paper to draw on?"

"She'll be fine. You don't need to do that."

"Oh. Okay."

You want to ignore him but you keep thinking of Maria.

I really like Tommy. And I love you. Please make an effort with Joel.

The words roll around in your head as you go back to stand behind your desk. Joel is sauntering around your office, looking at the flooring with a frown.

"Does Sarah always come with you to work?" You broach trying to sound interested even if you couldn't care less. Joel glances over at you shaking his head.

"No. Teacher called to say she had a stomachache. Tommy was closer to the school so he said he'd pick her up for

Sometimes Joel sounds as if he's trying to conserve words, using as few as possible.

You nod and not really wishing to extend the conversation any further, you turn back the email you'd be writing earlier.

A few minutes pass of you typing away on the keyboard, your eyes focusing on the email you're composing.

"You always worked with animals?"

"Huh?" You glance up from your computer, surprised. Joel is standing across the room from you near the yellow board and its photographs.

"Have you always worked with animals?" Joel repeats.

It takes you a minute to register that he's actually asked you a question about yourself.

"Uh yeah. My mom's a vet tech, my dad raised horses. Can't remember a time I wasn't around them."

Joel doesn't seem to know how to reply to this so he shrugs and looks down at his boots, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving to look around the office. He goes to the shelving holding up years of old adoption records.

You watch this and wonder why he bothered asking you a question if he had no intention of actually listening to your reply?

The answer suddenly becomes obvious: because Tommy probably told him the same thing Maria told you. Make an effort. Be nice.

The whole thing seems a bit silly to you. You're not children for Christ's sake. And the idea strikes you that you don't have to pretend.

"Joel?"

He turns from where he is at the window, his brows quirked.

"Let's be honest here for a minute. I know you don't enjoy my company and I don't enjoy yours," you say officiously. "But Maria and Tommy are very happy together and I have no intention of ruining that. Since I assume you care for your brother, I think you probably feel the same way."

Joel is staring at you without saying anything. It's one of his party tricks, you decide; being so quiet the other person feels the need to fill the silence. After a beat he nods.

"So I propose that we act like we don't despise one another when we're in their company. Other than that, I see no need for us to act like friends," you explain diplomatically. "You don't have to pretend to be interested in my life and I don't have to pretend to be interested in yours."

Joel is quiet for the length of this speech, seeming to take the information in and digesting it. For a horrible moment there is a paranoia that your suggestion was too blunt.

"So we'll just dislike each other in secret," Joel eventually says with what looks like a slight quirking of his lips.

"Exactly," you nod. "After the kennels are done here and Maria's kitchen is finished we'll see even less of each other. Holidays, dinners, the occasional pub night. It's manageable, don't you think?"

"I do."

"Great."

With that settled you go back to your email, typing rapidly and feeling accomplished.

"So since we're not friends and I don't have to pretend to be nice, I'm just gonna point out that spending all that grant money on kennels is insane."

Your fingers abruptly pull back from the keys and you dart a look up at him. "What?"

"This office is falling apart. These shelves have maybe a few months left in them, maybe." He presses on one and you can hear it creak under his palm. "The flooring is fucked, you're gonna break your neck walking on it if you don't fix it quick."

You stare at Joel, flabbergasted. Not just because this is the longest you've heard him talk, but because after the weeks of planning he thinks he can waltz into your workplace and completely up-end your idea?

"You can't save animals if your whole office is trashed," Joel continues. "You ever hear the expression 'you can't pour from an empty cup'?"

The fucking gall of Joel Miller of all people trying to give you self help advice. Pot meet kettle.

"Well, I only take advice from friends, so... "

You let the meaning sink in as you turn back to your work. He gives a look that clearly says 'it's your funeral' You glance up from under your hair as Joel goes to the far side of your office, pulling out his measuring tape and marking something in the little notepad he's pulled from his back pocket.

You scowl at his back, irritated once more by his arrogance. He just came in here and totally shit all over your plans! What does he even know? The kennels are a necessity! Yeah your office isn't great, but you've always gotten by haven't you?

You hear the sound of a truck outside and know it must be Tommy and Joel's daughter, Sarah.

You look at Joel and muse about what kind of child a man like Joel would raise. You think she must be a feral nightmare if she has Joel for a father. Hopefully she takes after her mother.

You go to the door of the office and pull it open before Tommy even has to knock.

A small girl with large hazel eyes and a shock of light brown curls bursts into your office, her hand dropping Tommy's.

"Daddy!"

Joel's face breaks into a large grin. He drops to one knee, his arms widening as a squealing girl leaps into his embrace. He squeezes her tightly before pulling back, his face serious.

"How's the tummy?"

"Real bad," Sarah says, sighing in that way all precocious children seem to do. As if the world is so exhausting when you have no responsibilities.

"Oh yeah? That's a shame." Joel looks terribly upset. "I thought we'd go to McDonald's on the way home, but since you're so sick-"

Sarah immediately changes tack.

"I'm actually feeling better, Daddy." Her eyes are large and unblinking. She fiddles with the zipper on Joel's coat. "I think I'm better enough for McDonald's."

"Mhmmm," Joel says sending a smirk in Tommy's direction as he stands.

Who the fuck is this guy? The one with the charming, boyish smile? The one with soft eyes and a sweet warmth to his voice? It can't be Joel Miller.. You've met that bastard. This guy is new. This guy is almost.... Attractive.

Tommy follows you to your desk, a beat up Longhorns cap over his glossy locks.

"The big day is here"

"It is indeed," you say with a grin. "I'm really excited to show you the back -"

You stop talking because Tommy is frowning and looking around the office. He moves over the creaking floorboards, taking in the poorly sealed windows before putting his hands on his hips in quiet contemplation.

"Hmmm."

"What?"

You walk over to where Tommy is now standing beside Joel, surveying the space by the window. The Brothers exchange a silent look that makes your stomach wobble.

"I know you wanted to put the money towards kennels," Tommy says wincing. "But I think you might actually have to put it into this office."

Your cheeks flare pink as you actively ignore the smug look Joel is undoubtedly shooting you.

"I don't think that's necessary," you say tightly.

"I mean it's your money," Tommy shrugs. "But in my opinion this is where you should put it. This place is barely holding on. No real point in kennels out back if the office is closed, right?"

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. And you're upset because this is exactly what your coworker James said when you first told him about your plan for the grant. You just put that down to him being financially conservative.

"Well this is just fuc-" you stop yourself from swearing when you remember that Sarah is there.

Sarah takes one long look at you before going to hide behind Joel's legs, her hazel eyes staring out at you from behind him balefully as the men talk above her.

She's definitely Joel's kid.

"Maybe we do the repairs in here and see if we have any money left over for the kennels," Tommy suggests. "We can get a good discount on materials."

"But we're not being underpaid on labor," Joel quickly cuts in. "So there's a good chance there won't be much left."

Tommy gives Joel a warning look. You know he'd been hoping to swoop in and save the day for his girlfriend's best friend. He can tell you're disappointed and you know that he feels guilty about it.

But that doesn't stop you from feeling deflated. The vision you had is gone, replaced with renovations you don't even want.

"Sure. Whatever you think is best, Tommy. I trust your judgment."

You go back to your desk and slump into the chair feeling defeated. You pretend to write something on a piece of paper but instead you're doodling, trying not to feel too devastated.

Tommy and Joel are murmuring to one another, making marks on the wall, tapping gently with their knuckles to find the studs.

"I got the tape," Sarah's squeaky voice calls out to Joel as she races over to him, the measuring tape large in her small hands.

"Don't run babygirl," Joel says with a soft smile in her direction as he takes the tape from her and Tommy writes something down in his notebook.

It's clear that despite her young age, Sarah desperately wants to help her father with the job. It makes your throat tighten.

You have such little experience with children. You're an only child yourself, most of your friends are childless and you've never really seemed to understand kids. They're loud and emotional and messy. This one seems especially troublesome if she has Joel Miller as an influence, so you go back to your work trying to see if there are other financial avenues for the kennels.

As you with you can hear Joel and Tommy discussing lumber costs and which yard is best for the type of work you need.

"Hi. I'm Sarah."

You start at the sudden appearance of Sarah at your elbow. She's tiny for her age, her eyes taking up such a large portion of her face. You furrow your brows at her.

She puts on a smile, a small dimple appearing in her cheek, the same side as her dad's. She pats the ends of your hair gently.

"I like your hair. It's pretty."

You're surprised by this. "Uh, thanks."

She steps closer. "I like your desk. It's pretty."

"Thank you."

"Is that candy?"

She points to the clear jar on the left side of your desk. It's filled with brightly colored jellybeans. You look towards the tower of confectionery and realize her motivation for buttering you up. You hide a smile.

"It is."

You turn your attention back to your work and continue writing, feeling her serious gaze on you.

"I really like candy," she tells you.

"Oh yeah," you reply trying not to smirk.

It's obvious she is waiting for you to offer her one. But can kids this young even have candy? She shuffles a bit closer to you.

"Can I have one candy? Please?"

Your eyes dart over to see Joel and Tommy measuring something in the corner. Your gaze flicks back to the expectant child at your elbow. For some reason Bill's recent rant creeps into your brain.

"Sugar is really bad for you especially at this age," you offer helpfully. "But it's no wonder you're obsessed with it. I bet your favorite cereal has a fun cartoon character on the front."

Sarah takes a longing look at the jellybeans on your desk before turning her attention back to you and nodding.

"It's all a marketing strategy," you explain patiently. "They attract you with colorful images and happy music in the commercials and make it seem like sugar isn't really a silent killer. It's pretty insidious when you think about it, targeting kids."

Sarah's face is pinched into a look of confusion. "Huh?"

You feel the dual gazes of Tommy and Joel on you from the side of the room. They've stopped what they're doing and are staring at you with bemusement. Tommy's lips are twitching.

"Have you ever spoken to a child before?" Tommy broaches, trying not to sound insulting but failing miserably.

"'Course I have," you lie, even as you feel your cheeks reddening. "Lots of times."

The Miller men exchange a look of barely suppressed amusement before Tommy turns back to the shelves. Joel is still staring at you with what looks like a mixture of pity and humor. You don't appreciate either.

"So can she have a few?"

Joel nods and turns back to speak to Tommy. You open the lid to the jar, pulling out a handful of jellybeans and placing them into Sarah's cupped hands. She decides that there are too many for her to hold so stretching her arms up she puts the small pile on the edge of your desk before she pops one into her mouth, chewing.

"Are they okay? They've been sitting there a while."

Sarah nods, offering a gummy "thank you."

You go back to making notes for James and she begins moving her eyes over your desk as she eats her jellybeans one by one.

'Who's that?"

You look up from your notes to see her pointing at one of the few framed photos on your desk.

"That's my dog from when I was a kid," you answer with a fond smile. "Pongo."

"Like the Dalmatians," Sarah says popping another jellybean into her mouth. "Pongo and 'Gita."

"Yeah," you smile. "I loved that movie so much I wanted a puppy of my own. Christmas morning there he was."

"He's not a Dalmatian," Sarah tells you as if you weren't already aware.

"No he was a rescue," you explain patiently. "He's one of the reasons I started this job. I wanted to help other animals like Pongo."

"I have a pet," Sarah tells you with a serious countenance.

"Oh really?"

She nods, reaching into her pocket and producing a small toad stuffy. He's obviously been carried with her from place to place, well loved with parts of his spotted back rubbed off.

"This must be toad," you say with a grin. "I've heard about him."

She gives you a surprised look but then smiles. "Do you wanna hold him?"

"Sure." You hold your palm out expectantly, watching her serious little face as she places the creature in the center of your hand. "Oh he's very handsome."

Sarah giggles at this, looking at you with amusement. "He's not handsome. He's a toad."

"Well sometimes a toad can look handsome," you reason. "I have a few ex boyfriends that prove that point."

Sarah doesn't know what to make of that joke. So she takes toad back, pocketing him and going back to her jelly beans on your desk. She takes a pink one and before it reaches her mouth she's pointing to another photo.

"Who's that?"

You glance over to see the photo she's referencing. It's you and your mom and dad on your birthday. Judging by the candles you were about Sarah's age. Your arms are hooked around both their necks and the three of you look like you were laughing when it was taken.

"That's a photo of me," you tap the young image of yourself gently before tapping the faces of the other figures in the photograph. "And my mom and dad."

Sarah stares at the photo a long time, her head tilting as she regards it. You find yourself intrigued by her reaction. Her small dark fingers trace the frame. Finally she swallows her candy and looks to you curiously.

"You have a picture of your mommy? I don't."

You're surprised by this. You knew Joel was divorced, but to not have any photos of Sarah's mom around the house seems kind of strange.

You stare down at Sarah and wonder how much hurt hides behind those large eyes of hers.

"Sarah," Joel calls sharply from across the room. "Leave the lady alone, she's workin'"

You don't really mind Sarah as much as you thought you would. She's inquisitive and sweet tempered.

Perhaps this is an opportunity to extend an olive branch towards Joel, especially since you'll be seeing a lot of him.

"It's alright," you say, shooting a friendly smile his way. "I don't mind -"

"Well I do mind," Joel interrupts. The familiar chill is back in his gaze and you feel your own irritation rising, the smile dropping from your face. Why do you bother trying to be nice to this guy?

Joel holds a hand out in his daughter's direction, his face softening. "C'mon babygirl, we're goin' home."

Sarah takes the remainder of her jellybeans and shoves them into her dungaree pockets before toddling over to her dad who picks her up.

She's in his arms, looking over his shoulder at you. She gives you a brief wave that you return before the two of them disappear out the door.

/// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

"Can you do me a huge favor?"

You never enjoy mornings that start like that. You're still in your sleeping clothes, the coffee Maria brought you still warm in your hands.

"Depends what it is."

Maria and you are sitting on your sofa, a striped pillow behind your neck.

It's been two days since Tommy and Joel dropped the bomb that you'll need to spend your grant money on the office repairs. It's only Wednesday but it feels like years since you had your dreams shattered.

Tommy is starting the work on your office next week. That means you'll have a solid three days of off-site work while he does that and you'll come back to an office you never wanted refurbished in the first place.

Great.

"It's me and Tommy's four month anniversary," Maria is blushing shyly. "He wants to take me away for the weekend."

You don't point out that celebrating monthly anniversaries is asinine and borderline juvenile. Mostly because those thoughts usually only occur when you're under-caffinated. And you know it's partially because you're still in a terrible mood about the office.

"Sounds fun," you say between sips of your coffee. "You need me to water your plants or something while you're gone?"

"Not exactly."

You don't like the way Maria isn't meeting your eyes.

"Maria?"

"Well, Joel has a meeting with Kathleen for that construction job on Saturday night. A big one. If they win the bid that's huge."

You nod, not really understanding where you come in.

"Sarah needs a babysitter. Tommy is usually the go-to but he's got this really good deal on a weekend away for us."

"Okay."

You sit staring at her a while before the other shoe drops and you see her bracing herself for your response.

"You want me to willingly enter that man's home and babysit his child?" You put your mug down on the coffee table so harshly it splashes.

You remember the pact you made with Joel. To act like you don't despise each other for the sake of Maria and Tommy. But this is asking too much.

"Why can't he just reschedule the meeting for the following week?" You suggest, desperate to find a solution that doesn't involve you in Joel Miller's home.

"I asked Tommy that but the bids open Monday. Saturday is Joel's only opportunity. She's busy all the other nights."

"Why can't he just get a sitter from the newspaper? Or an agency?"

You don't love the plaintive edge your voice has taken on.

"You saw what happened with Connie," Maria says with a roll of her eyes. "You've met Joel. He's particular."

Understatement of the century.

"Grandparents?"

"Dead."

Well, that's one thing you have in common.

"Sarah is his life," Maria continues. "He wouldn't let just anyone take care of her."

"Exactly. What makes you think he'd want me of all people to sit Sarah?" You figure this will solidify why you're a poor choice.

"Because when Tommy suggested you be the one to babysit, Joel said yes."

That surprises you enough to choke on your coffee. Joel Miller approves of you babysitting his daughter? This is unexpected.

Then another thought occurs to you, pushing this thought entirely to the back of your mind. Your eyes immediately narrow on Maria's suddenly very bashful face.

"Tommy's already talked to Joel about this?"

Maria is looking everywhere but your face as you raise a questioning brow.

"The tickets were non-refundable," Maria finally explains with a guilty laugh. "And there's a couple's massage!"

"Maria!"

"You'd barely have to interact with him," Maria promises. "He leaves when you get there and you leave when he gets home. In between that you get to hang out with Sarah."

Hanging out with a five year old you barely know is not the compelling selling point Maria seems to think it is.

"Plus I'll pay you for your time," Maria continues, going to pull the wallet from her purse. "It's the least I can do."

You inwardly groan. You know for a fact that you're going to say yes because when it comes to Maria you always do.

"Put it away," you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. "Think of it as an anniversary gift."

Maria nearly tackles you into a hug whispering words of thanks over and over before squeaking happily that she's going to call Tommy to give him the good news.

You shake your head watching her rush up the stairs before going back to your coffee and drinking deeply.

So much for a relaxing weekend.

#dad joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #the last of us #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #series

290 notes · View notes

selvie-blue · 10 months

Text

Joel's Revealing Punishment

This is the last place Joel wanted to come back to. He's already regretful enough of what happened a week ago. Just a few beers, his friends said. Don't worry, we got you, his friends said. So is that why his “friends” got just as plastered, if not more, and ended up having to take rideshares home?

But, ya see, Joel didn't take a rideshare. In his drunken stupor, he thought he ordered one, but the number he'd called was to an ex-roommate. And she wasn't particularly thrilled to hear from him. At least that's what he gathered the following morning when he got a series of angry texts from her.

He can't really gather what happened after that. But, after the slew of recordings that were taken which was later used as evidence, he saw he'd gone to a mattress store next to the bar. When he couldn't open the front door due to it being closed, he broke in. Apparently, he thought he was home, because when they did open back up, he was found sleeping on one of their beds.

Then, the arrest happened, then the hearing, then the most humiliating day of his life. The judge said that since he couldn't afford to pay, he should understand what it was like to be so disruptive while being sober. That's when the police hauled his ass back over to this store and was going to have him lay on the bed while he had his picture taken. Joel has to admit, it's the most unusual sentencing he's ever heard.

And currently, this is where Joel is. At a store he can't remember being at with a window that was just repaired because he broke it.

The store owner is standing next to the bed he was caught sleeping in. He's got his arms crossed and is really giving Joel the stare-down.

Joel nervously nods to him while trying to wave hi. The wave is more him weakly lifting up his hand. The store owner shakes his head and says, “If you try to apologize to me, I'm gonna take one of these bed posts and beat you over the head with it.” He doesn't break eye contact with Joel. “I do request that you get those shoes and socks off. You are not getting them on my bed.”

Joel looks behind him and sees, in addition to the group of police officers, there's a small group of employees and they've all got their smart phones out.

“I, ugh, I didn't know that I'd have my picture taken by,” he looks back to all the employees. They don't even look that enthusiastic, more like they'd rather be somewhere else, “so many … people.”

“You heard the gentleman,” one of the officers say. “Get those shoes and socks off.”

Joel looks down to his feet for a second and then back up at the officers. “Look, um, isn't there another way?” Joel asks, looking to the owner of the mattress store, then to the officers and all these bored people holding smart phones. Some even roll their eyes. “I just really don't wanna relive this moment,” He waves his hands in protest. “I'm sure I'll come up with the money.”

One of the other officers rolls his eyes and then lets out this heavy, audible sigh. It's weighed with his voice and sounds to be exhaling on this frustration.

“LOOK!” The officer that rolled his eyes yells. He then grabs hold of Joel's shirt and clenches his fists into the fabric and pulls Joel forward with enough force that a few tears sound. Joel's body is jerked forward and is suddenly slammed in the face with the cop's breath.

Joel flinches and his eyes go wide as he feels like he's staring down the two green-tinted chambers about to go off.

“The man said to get rid of the shoes and socks,” the officer gruffly whispers. Curving the edges of his words with this gravely tone. His tongue methodically moving with this intimidating precision. “We all have things to do, places to go and you're lucky you're not in jail, right now. So, if I were you, I'd do what he says.”

Joel nervously looks at the cop. His eyes darting back and forth looking at the officer's pupils and, at the same time, trying to avoid them.

“Can, um, can you let me go, please?” Joel asks. The question voiced with a shaken sound that meekly crawls out of his throat.

In response, the officer arches his eyebrow and this smirk starts forming on his face. It's a smirk that makes Joel suspicious. Because it appears to be formed out of this maniacal glee that is slowly erupting from his expression. Like he's had it with Joel and has just come up to a decision. The officer nods his head and says, “Sure, man. I'll let go.”

The officer puts him down and back to where he was standing while still holding onto his shirt. He's still got his fists clenched into the collar, enough to where it's lifting up the bottom of the buttoned-down and a shadow of Joel's stomach is peaking through.

Then, the cop angles those fists still onto his shirt upward. The officer then takes one big inhalation and whips both his fists downward. Taking the front of Joel's shirt with him. The material is savagely torn from Joel's chest. The sound of ripping fabric sends a jolt through Joel's ears.

“There,” the officer says, lifting up his hands and letting go of Joel's torn shirt. It's still connected and just hangs from the connecting pieces. “I've let go.”

Joel looks down at his bare chest then back up at the officer a few times. Each time he does, there's this growing tension in his eyes. Compressing his pupils into paranoid pools of blue. He picks up the detached pieces of his shirt and plasters them against his chest. There's a jagged sliver of his skin showing between the torn lines and the buttons that were popped off when the officer ripped his shirt open.

“Ummm, o-okay, I'll, I'll do the pic,” he says nodding his head while the rest of his body moves up and down with him.

The officers look at each other and then look back at him, slyly, while carrying this slow blink that makes their faces appear like they've got this malicious focus all of a sudden. The circle of uniformed men then start walking forward, closing in on him.

“Okay, di-did you hear me? I said I'd do the picture,” Joel says as a nervous laughter undercurrents his voice in an unsteady stream.

“Oh, we know,” two of the officers in front of him say.

The two look to each other and one says, “Shall we?” as if they both know what the other is talking about.

“I said I'd take the damn picture!” Joel yells.

While he's yelling this, the officers take hold of the opened flaps of his shirt that Joel is holding against his body with one hand each and yank down on them, whipping from under his grasp. Joel flinches as he feels the heat flame against chest from the fabric being forcefully pulled from his hands. The ends flick against his shaken hands like the pointed tongue of a viper.

He looks to the men, darting his head back and forth between them as he says, “But, I said I'd take the pic.” His voice buried underneath his wavering breath, trying to swim against the tide of his frantic nerves.

The officers are holding onto the disconnected pieces, the ends still connected to the bottom of the shirt. “We heard you, man,” one cop says, doing a dead stare at him and then coldly snaps his hand back, severing the connection between it and his shirt. The shirt pops open further in response and hangs on the right the right side of his chest.

The other officer holding onto the other piece says, “You are, but,” he then whips his hand back more forcefully, taking a bigger chunk of the bottom of his shirt with it, “you're gonna do it our way, now.”

Joel takes what's left of his shirt and tries to pull it together, but can't hide much of his now-revealed chest. He's crossing his arms, hard, the hair on his stomach shining against the sunlight from the window that anyone could look into. “What, umm, what's your way?”

“We think you know,” one of the officers say as Joel feels two hands on his shoulders. He feels the fingers clawing underneath his collar. The hands pull in opposite directions, Joel's body forced to bob back and forth. The back of his shirt tears, strings of fabric sliding against his bare back as it slits all the way down. The officers are pulling up and then down, his shirt stretching and then viciously gashes open, his exposed skin coming into contact with the light. They just rip everything that's left of his of his shirt off of him. The only thing Joel has left are the pieces of fabric he's holding against his chest. But two other officers take hold of the ends between their thumb and index finger and pull upward, sliding them out from his grasping, sweaty palms.

As they're leaving the crevices of his hold, feeling them pull up against his chest hair, Joel says, “This is illegal, y-you can't do this.”

He sees the people holding the smart phones over the shoulders of the now very tight circle of cops. They're not looking so bored, anymore. In fact, some of them even are even smirking and others have this cool, calm look of … intrigue??

“Sorry,” an officer behind him says as he digs his fingers the back of not only his shorts, but Joel's anxiousness shoots up when he feels the guy's knuckles against the top of his ass as the cop taking a firm grip of his underwear, too. “But we can do whatever we want, buddy. So, if we want you to get on the bed and pose,” the cop pulls back a little harder, the fabric of his shorts rumbling underneath the weight of the pull, “You'll do it. And….” while still holding onto his shorts and underwear, the officer leans and whispers, “And if the owner says to take your shoes and socks off, you'll do it. And if we want you to model for this pic while wearing, ughhh,” the officer looks down and then looks back up and whispers, “a lot less than your shoes and socks, then, well,” the officer stands back and then bends down as he puts all his body weight into his arms and yanks on the back of his shorts and underwear hard. Joel gasps as he instinctively clasps his hands on the front of his shorts as the entire back of his shorts and underwear come flying off. Joel feels the air suddenly expand from his back down to his ass and the back of his legs. His legs waver back and forth as his butt bounces while rebounding from the back of everything he had on being torn from his body. Holding the torn-off pieces of clothing Joel had on like he's holding a badge of honor, as if he's proud of what he's just done, he says, “You'll do it.”

Joel is holding onto the front of his shorts as strong as he can. The shorts are now just this loose flap of cloth that are hanging in front of him. The tattered edges extending into the stringy remains of what is left. He's got his body hunched over while laying one hand in front of the other, his head bowed while his entire backside is showing.

“Well, he may be a fuck up,” one of the officers say, “but one thing's for sure. He's got a nice ass,” the cop says while slapping his left butt cheek. Joel's body jumps up while his firm butt bounces underneath the officer's slapping hand.

He hears the officer's laugh at that response. But then hears other voices join in. And he can swear that he hears the voice of the mattress store owner. The laughter is subtle, but tumbles towards his ears in the jagged resonance of sharp little bullets.

One of the other officers looks at Joel up and down and then raises his eyebrows a few times. Joel can't help but notice this when he moves his eyes up to the officer as his mouth slightly gapes open. This can't be happening to him.

“Bet he's got a nice everything,” the officer says and cruelly laughs at the end of that statement.

“Only one way to find out,” Joel hears the one person say he hopes wouldn't say it, the mattress store owner.

“Guys,” Joel says, putting one hand up defensively holding onto his torn-and-tattered shorts. While he's doing this, the officers start laughing while picking up what remains of the material. Joel slams his other hand down on the shorts saying, “Gu-guys, please.”

The officers pull harder, slowly lifting up the shorts from Joel's body. The hair on his stomach slowly and steadily extending into his pubic hair. “C'mon, guys. Please!”

He then feels hands on his arms, lifting them up, forcing his hands not only off of his torn shorts, but also off his body being quickly exposed. “GUYS, PLEASE!”

They're prying his fingers off the cloth as others are trying to snatch them out of his grasp. The bottom of his penis is starting to show, the head swaying underneath the flap of torn fabric going from vertical to horizontal.

“PLEASE!” he pleads as the shorts are whipped out of his hands and as his arms and hands are pulled to his sides, giving him no choice but his penis to be fully exposed, now. His chest with hair creating a shadow around his nipples are having this slight bounce as he's struggling. His stomach is tumbling underneath the patch of dark hair that everyone can now see merges into a heavy bush of pubic hair. His medium-sized dick flops in different directions as the exacted shape of his head moves in the blush of pinkish red. His testicles, also covered in hair, sways with his dick. As he struggles, the officers untie his shoes and then pull both his shoes and socks off.

The drag him to the bed, holding his legs and arms, his butt firmly bouncing as his penis sways upward. He's yelling in protest as they throw him on the bed.

“I'll just have the sheets cleaned,” the owner says, “This is better.”

Joel is out of breath and panicky as he covers up his dick. His bush peaking through his clasping hands.

“Sir, we need your hands off,” one of the officers say.

“C'mon,” Joel heavily whispers.

“You wanna another night in jail.”

He sighs while feeling mortified.

“And smile,” the officers say.

*Same story with uncensored pic can be found here.

Joel lifts up his hands then pulls his fingers away from each other, laying one hand closer to his dick while the other lays near his waist. He then plasters a nervous smile on his face. His mouth and eyes expand into this wavering edge of uncertainty.

“Let's have him stay like this for the day,” the owner says. “I think we could drum up more business with some, ugh, exposure.” He stifles a laugh.

He looks to the officer for reassurance. To his horror, one of them says, “You heard the man.” Fuck. This really is the most humiliating day of Joel's life.

#enm fiction #enm story #men embarrassed #losing clothes #men losing clothes #men stripped #men stripped naked in public #men exposed #men forced to expose themselves

18 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Smile You’re on Camera

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: You meet Joel for the first time [1.7k]

Author’s note: this is mostly exposition but I’m actively writing their first date so that’ll probably go up tomorrow or even as early as tonight 🥸

Warnings: quick FAKE violence, Joel being an asshole, language, questionable Hollywood motives

"You always fucking do this!" You yell, slamming down the book in your hands. The man across from you throws his arms up in defeat and scoffs.

"Are you serious right now?" He asks, and your jaw clenches at his tone. "Jesus Christ, you're being insane."

"Don't call me that!"

"Then stop acting like it!" He yells, getting in your face. Your breathing is shaky as you stare into his eyes. He's close enough that you can smell the detergent on his shirt. You're unflinching when he gets even closer, forcing you back. "Your mom was right. You're more trouble than you're worth." Before the words can even completely leave his mouth, you spit in his face. He grabs your arms and pushes you down on the couch. You kick and scream the whole way down, proving how much trouble you can really be.

"Cut!" The director shouts from his chair, and Ryan helps you off the couch. You laugh as he throws a fake punch in your direction and walks over to the director's chair to rewatch the scene. It looks great, and Ryan gives you a solid high-five in celebration. You're both so excited about how the movie is coming out, and you can't wait to film the rest. You do a few more takes before breaking for lunch.

The second you sit down, your inbox lights up with an email from your PR manager, Melanie. URGENT MEETING TOMORROW AFTERNOON, the subject line reads. You sigh and open it, already moving your schedule around in your mind as you skim through her words. Something about it not being a skippable meeting. "This could change the trajectory of your career," she writes. You respond back, telling her you'll be there, but she has to be the one to tell your director the schedule needs to change.

You log onto Twitter and see something about a singer, Joel Miller, attacking paparazzi for something. You're not sure. You've bumped into him several times on red carpets, and you like a handful of his songs. He has a big, gritty voice with an endearing country accent. He's handsome and, from what you've heard, a really great guy. You haven't gotten the chance to speak more than two words to him because every time you see him, there's some beautiful woman draped on his arm, and he doesn't even look at you. Which is fine. You're still new to the industry, and you're used to people giving you the cold shoulder as a form of hazing. It sucks, but it's not like things will change overnight.

You scroll through a few pictures of Joel's fist connecting with the cameraman's nose, his big hands delivering a devastating blow. You've had your fair share of run-ins with paparazzi, but you're not someone who can punch a guy with a camera just because you feel like it. You would almost immediately be labeled another insane actress who has gone off the rails. Irrational. A spiteful bitch. All of it. But men like him get twenty seconds of shit online before they're forgiven and even praised for holding their own.

You roll your eyes, put your phone on the charger, and leave your trailer to return to set. The rest of the day goes off without a hitch, and the AD only gave you a little shit for messing with the schedule. You would take it more personally if you hadn't been doing this for long enough to know better. Scenes will still get filmed, people will still get paid, and the movie will still get made. Besides, a backhanded comment from a shitty AD isn't worth your energy.

When you get home, the only thing you hear about and see on every single platform is Joel Miller punching the fuck out of that paparazzi guy. Now, there are pictures of him talking to cops but not looking especially guilty about what he'd done. His bruised knuckles are the only evidence that anything went down on his end. The reaction is polarizing. Some people are saying that violence is never the answer. Others are saying he was justified. Some are even saying how hot it is. Still, there's no real reason why he went after that guy. You probably scrolled through social media for an hour trying to figure out what happened. It's midnight by the time you realize you still haven't showered and have done virtually nothing to get ready for bed.

You drag yourself off the couch and up to your shower, finding new bruises from the scene you filmed today, and make a mental note to talk to the fight choreographer. You need to do a million things, and they all fill your brain the second you try to lie down. You hope this career-changing meeting isn't riding on whether or not you can come in looking well-rested, but Hollywood has done shittier things.

The next day, you drive to the meeting place Melanie set up for you and notice several paps being held back by security across the street. It's not unusual for your schedule to get leaked to paparazzi, so you don't think anything about it, but there's a good handful of them. They yell at you as you enter the building and you offer a wave, bou can't understand why there are so many just to photograph you attending a stupid meeting. As you walk toward the meeting room, you hear loud voices arguing. You don't recognize either of them and fight your anxiety to open the door.

Joel Miller and another man are there yelling at each other. It's a tangle of voices, and you can't distinguish one thing from another. You wonder if maybe you walked into the wrong conference room and make to leave when Joel catches a glimpse of you. He rolls his eyes and gestures at you like you are a nuisance. "Now, who's this?"

"She is going to single-handedly get you out of this mess!" The other man shouts. You've heard enough of these conversations to gather that the other man is Joel's manager.

"And how do you expect her to do that?"

"You guys are going to date," his manager says, and you immediately look to Melanie for confirmation. She just nods. "For the cameras, of course. Just until the heat comes off of Joel, and then you guys can do whatever the hell you want."

"Was anybody going to ask my opinion in all this?" You ask.

"I wouldn't put you in this situation unless I knew it would benefit you. Actresses do this all the time! It's good publicity, and it could catch the director's eyes." Melanie says, trying to comfort you, but frustration is already buried in your chest.

"This is ridiculous." You scoff, rubbing your forehead, already feeling the headache traveling over your skull.

"Yeah, it is pretty fuckin' ridiculous." Joel agrees, and his manager grabs his shirt collar and gets in his face.

"Do you want the press to leave your family alone or not?" His manager snaps, and something in Joel softens. He takes his manager's hands off of him and takes deep breaths as he thinks. You're trying to figure out what you're supposed to do or if you're even supposed to do anything.

"What d'we have to do?"

"Go on a couple dates, post a few pictures, and act madly in love for the cameras. Tabloids will eat that shit up." Melanie explains. You blink at her and glance between her and the men.

"For how long?" You ask.

"Couple months."

"I don't know if I can do this."

"I thought you were an actor," Joel says, vitriol lacing his words, and you furrow your brows at him.

"I am, but I prefer not to bring my work into my personal life."

"I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this is how the industry works. If you don't like it, I'm sure we can find someone else who would happily take your place."

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"My problem is-"

"Stop it! Both of you!" Joel's manager yells. "You need to get it together and do this. If you can't find a reason to do it to save your fucking career, do it for your kids. Huh? What about that, Joel?"

"Fine!" Joel shouts back. He huffs and grabs a pen from his manager's pocket. "Give me the goddamn paperwork," Melanie doesn't hesitate to slide the contract to him, and he doesn't so much as glance at the words before signing his name on the line and throwing the pen down. "I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night. How's that sound, sweetheart?" He grumbles without even looking at you as he leaves the room. The door slams behind him, and a few minutes later, you hear the paparazzi outside get louder as he exits the building. You, however, can't move. You feel like the wind got knocked out of you, and you look between the two managers.

"You want me to pretend to be in love with him?" You ask. Melanie opens her mouth to say something but stops, obviously unable to find something to salvage the situation. "This is fucking insane."

"I promise, he's not normally like that. He's just under a lot of stress." His manager says, and you scoff.

"That doesn't give him the right to speak to me like that."

"You're right, okay? You're absolutely justified in hating him, but think about what this could do for you. We're talking blockbuster movies, first pick at whatever script you want, invitations to the Met Gala, the Oscars, all of it," Melanie says, putting her hands on your arms to show you how serious she is. You sigh. Those things would be huge for your career, and you're not sure when you'll get another opportunity like this. "It's only a couple months. Think of it as an acting exercise."

"I don't have to sleep with him or anything, right?"

"Only if you want to, honey."

"Oh, I doubt I'll ever want him to do more than kiss me after that," you say. You take a deep breath and shake your head as you think. There are a million reasons why you should do this, but there are about two million reasons why you shouldn't. He's arrogant, annoying, and dismissive, and that's just what you gathered from your first conversation. Still, maybe you won't have to interact with him that much. Maybe you can get through this and then never have to talk to him again. Maybe this is what changes everything. Going against your better judgment, you look at Melanie and nod. "Okay, I'll do it."

#rockstar!joel miller #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #one for the money two for the show

216 notes · View notes