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bored-writer101 · 11 months

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Friday The 13th (2009) Clay Miller X Reader

A/N: i love horror movies sm so you can understand my surprise when i was watching the friday the 13th remake and jared padalecki showed up on screen😂 i wanted to do a rewrite of this movie after the first time i watched it. of course when i went back to finish it, they had taken the movie off of netflix so i had to rent it😂😭 by anyway! i hope you all enjoy! :) (female reader)

Warnings: this is a rewrite of a rated r horror movie so decent amount of gore and swearing

Summary: You are Clay Miller’s girlfriend. He’s taken you to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, looking for his sister, Whitney. She’s been missing for a month and a half after she went on a camping trip with some friends. You and Clay are determined to find her, but there is a hockey masked killer who is waiting in the woods for you.

Words: 8631

(not my gif)

You hopped off the back of Clay's motorcycle, following him into the dingy gas station. He walked up to talk to the clerk while you glanced around the store. You didn't find anything you wanted, so you walked over to stand next to Clay.

"She's gone missing, about a month and a half ago," he said as he pulled the missing posters out of his backpack, "would you mind if I maybe just put a flyer in the window or something?"

"Oh, I heard about that. That's sad. If it was up to me, you could wallpaper the whole place with them," as the clerk spoke, the man behind Clay tapped him on the arm, and Clay waved him off before turning back to the clerk, "but the owner makes the rules. And he's a real-" the man made a honking noise as he raised his eyebrows high on his forehead, implying that the owner was an asshole.

You and Clay both gave him a confused look, "um, well, is he here? Maybe I could talk to him. Maybe if he understood the situation-" the man behind Clay tapped him on the arm again, and you both turned to look at him.

"Um, you gonna buy something? I mean, you've been up here for quite a while yapping, so..." you glared daggers at him; you could not believe the audacity of this guy.

"Um, sure. Yeah," Clay said as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side before you could tell the guy off.

"Thanks. We'll have two waters and some gas," the guy said to the clerk once the two of you were out of the way.

"Guess I'm an asshole" Clay muttered loud enough for the guy to hear, while you continued to glare.

"You okay bro? Is everything good?" the guy asked with smug smile.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Thanks. But I'm not your bro" Clay replied.

"So you don't want be friends? You don't wanna hang out?" the guy teased, chuckling to himself.

"You better shut your mouth before I shut it for you," you said angrily.

Clay squeezed your hand, and you glanced up at him. He gave you a look you knew all too well, one that told you to stop while you were ahead. You only rolled your eyes at him before going back to glaring at the guy.

"Let it go, Trent," the girl next to Trent placed a hand on his arm, trying to diffuse the situation.

"It's not me. This guys being a dick," you and Clay both scoffed at him.

"Yeah, it's me. Obviously, I'm the one being a dick" Clay said sarcastically, "sir, thank you very much anyways" Clay said politely to the clerk.

"Yep" the clerk replied with a tight lipped smile.

"I'm sorry," the girl said to Clay as you walked past.

"Thank you" Clay replied quietly before he gently tugged you out of the gas station.

You let go of Clay's hand to grab the helmet sitting on the back of his motorcycle, "god, that clerk was such a condescending jerk! How much you wanna bet he was the owner? And that fucking dickhead too! What is it with the people around here?" you ranted, annoyed.

You looked up when Clay didn't respond. You saw him taping a flyer to the back of a black SUV you hadn't noticed before. There weren't any other vehicles, so it must have belonged to the dickhead guy. You chuckled.

"What?" you only shook your head at him with a smile before putting your helmet on.

Clay swung his leg over the seat of his motorcycle, and you got on behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. You watched Trent and the rest of his buddies get back into their car. One of the guys got into the trunk, reaching up and pulling it shut. You watched them drive away, Whitney's missing poster stuck to the trunk.

Clay kicked the ignition and you felt the engine rumble to life beneath you before he pulled out of the parking lot. You were only on the road for a few minutes when a cop car flashed it's lights behind you. You felt Clay's chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh as he pulled off to the side of the road. You leaned back slightly and quickly ripped off your helmet.

"Do you know why we're getting pulled over?" you questioned him, "is it cause you're not wearing a helmet? I've told you a million times-"

He cut you off, "it's not that. Just let me do the talking, alright?"

You heard a car door open and close behind you, "welcome back, Clay," the police officer called out as he started walking over.

"You mean that, Officer Bracke?" Clay replied sarcastically.

"And I see you brought a friend this time," the officer said as he approached. He sighed as he pulled off his large aviators, and you knew he was going to try to sympathize, "son, I know you think we're not on your side, that we're just a bunch of dumb country hicks out here."

'That's putting it lightly,' you thought.

"I put two, ten year veterans on that case. We did three dozen interviews and ran a county wide search for your sister. You know how many thousands of people disappear every year, even in this state alone? There's no evidence that anything happened to Whitney or any of those other kids at Crystal Lake," the cop explained, and you rolled your eyes, not caring if he saw.

"There's no car, no witnesses. Nothing. One of those kids was her boyfriend, right?"

"Right," Clay replied with a nod.

"Well, they probably just took off together," it was taking all your self control to not start yelling.

Clay scoffed, "our mother just died of cancer. Did I tell you that?"

"No, sir."

"Well, she did. She was sick for a long time and Whitney took care of her every single day. And then my sister didn't show up for the funeral. See, you just don't know my sister. That's not possible," Clay explained.

"Well, she's not here, son. I would suggest taking your friend here, and try looking someplace else. That's what the other families are doing," the cop said as he placed his aviators back on his face, having used up all the sympathy he had for that day.

The cop turned and started walking back towards his cruiser, and you waited until you heard the car door shut before speaking, "what the actual fuck. The people around here continue to amaze me," you said as the cop drove past.

You looked up at Clay when he didn't say anything, or make a move to start his bike. You could see his jaw was clenched. He stared at the cop car as it drove down the the road, slowly becoming a small dot on the horizon.

"Are you okay?" you asked as you hugged him tight, leaning onto his shoulder.

"I'm fine."

You sighed, knowing that he was far from fine, "I'm sorry, honey. She's here, and we're gonna find her," you said before leaning up and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said softly.

He kicked the ignition on and waited for you to put your helmet back on before pulling onto the road. The cop car had already faded away in the distance. You hoped you wouldn't be seeing him again.

The sun was still high in the sky even though it felt like you had been out all day. It wasn't sweltering hot, but with no cloud cover the sun was beating down on you. The only breeze you were getting was when Clay was speeding down the road.

You were surrounded by cornfields and farmland on either side. There weren't many houses around, and there were many miles in between each one. It took many minutes of driving before you made it to the next house. Clay pulled up and parked at the end of the dirt path that led to the front door. You looked around at the junk scattered in the front yard as the two of you got off Clay's bike. You got a sense of unease as goosebumps spread across your skin. You noticed Clay walking up the path towards the house, and you hurried to catch up with him. You gripped his arm once you were walking next to him. He chuckled as he glanced down at you.

"What? You scared?" he teased you.

"Uh, of course I am! What kind of a question is that?..." your voice trailed off as you continued to scan your surroundings.

"Hello?" Clay called out as you approached the door.

The front door was open, but the screen door was shut and locked. You had full view into the house through the glass. You could see into a cluttered kitchen. There was a large wreath hanging on the side of the fridge.

"Hello?" Clay called out again before knocking on the door a few times.

After a few seconds of silence, you spoke up, "looks like no ones home. Let's get the hell out of here," you let go of his arm to wrap your arms around yourself.

"Hold on, I'm gonna leave a flyer."

"Good idea, but hurry up, please."

Clay knelt down to open his backpack and get a flyer out. As he did this, an all black dog jumped up on the screen door, barking loudly. You both jumped back, you letting out a loud, "shit!" as you reached for Clay.

"Christ!" he exclaimed as the two of you watched the medium sized dog jump at the door while continuing to bark.

The dog growled as an older lady with graying hair came to the door. She grabbed the dogs collar and opened the door, an angry scowl on her face. You gripped Clays jacket tightly as you stood somewhat behind him.

"I just wanted to ask you a question" the dog barked again, startling both you and Clay.

"Hush!" the woman yelled at the dog.

"I wanted to ask you, um, if maybe you've seen somebody. My sister" Clay said shakily as he held up the flyer, "she came camping up around here with some friends and she's gone missing," the woman looked down at the flyer before looking back up at Clay.

"She ain't missing. She's dead," she said, matter of factly.

"What?"

"People go missing around here, they're gone for good. Outsiders come, they don't know where to walk. They bring trouble. We just wanna be left alone! And so does he," the lady explained.

"So does who?" Clay asked.

She didn't answer, she just reached out and pulled door closed.

"Ma'am, please. So does who?" she ignored Clay's plea, instead she turned and walked back into her house, pulling the dog along with her.

You looked up at Clay, who looked down at you with a terrified and confused expression, "what the hell do you think she was talking about?" he muttered as the two of you turned and began walking back toward his motorcycle.

"I don't know. Some local legend, maybe? I think every towns got 'em," Clay chewed at the nail on his thumb anxiously, "she doesn't know anything. She probably got told some scary story as a kid because all these small town hicks don't like 'outsiders.' We're gonna keep looking until we find Whitney," you reassured him.

Clay nodded as he leaned back against his back, still chewing on his nail. You sighed deeply as you walked to stand in front of him.

"What now?" you asked.

"We keep driving. Hit every house we see. Then we can try to search the camp," you nodded before the two of you got back onto his motorcycle.

You drove a ways down the road, the sun was starting to get low in the sky as you parked in front of a large, red barn. You could hear some sort of machinery buzzing inside. Clay hopped of the motorcycle, setting his backpack down before pulling off his jacket. You quickly snatched it from him, wrapping it around you. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a lopsided smile.

"You stay here this time, yeah?" you nodded, not wanting to deal with anymore weird country folk.

He leaned in and kissed you quick before turning and walking into the barn. After about a minute he came walking back out, and you heard somebody yelling from the barn. You furrowed your brows in confusion as you stood up. You saw Clay walking back over to you.

"What was that all about?" you asked, and he shook his head.

"Just another weirdo. Let's go."

The next house you pulled up to looked somewhat normal, so you walked with Clay up to the front door. It was a large vacation looking cabin. You knocked while Clay reached down to pull a flyer from his backpack.

"Hi, we're sorry to bother you. We're looking for someone and..." your voice trailed off as you recognized the girl in the doorway; ur was the girl from the gas station.

"Hey" she said, also recognizing the two of you.

You smiled and nodded back as a greeting.

"No luck?" she asked with a frown.

"No. No, not yet"

"May I?" she asked, reaching out for the flyer.

"Yeah" Clay said as he handed it to her.

"She's pretty."

"Thanks" Clay said quietly.

"Do you guys wanna come in for a second, grab a drink?" she asked.

"Uh..." you and Clay glanced at each other before looking back at her, " I don't think your boyfriend would like that too much" you nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry about it. He'll be fine" you and Clay glanced at each other again before you shrugged.

"Thanks" Clay said with a smile.

The two of you stepped into the house, the girl closing the door behind you. You followed her into what looked like the living room. You saw two guys sitting at at table eating, and another girl holding up a video camera. She pointed it over at the two of you, but you could see her aim it at Clay. You felt jealously begin to boil in your gut, but it didn't have long to simmer. The guy from before came out from the kitchen.

"Hey, Trent, uh, you remember..." she trailed off as she gestured to the two of you.

"Clay," he said.

"Y/N," you squeaked out, feeling a mix of anger and jealously.

Trent did not look too happy with the two of you, "Of course I remember Clay and Y/N. Why are they in my house?"

"Hey, new guy, and new girl. Beer?" the girl who was previously holding the video camera held out a beer can in both hands.

"No, no," Trent put out a hand to stop her before you could snap at her, "they've gotta get going. You got flyers to pass out, right?" you bit the inside of your cheek as to not flip out on this douchebag.

"Yeah," Clay said simply, "right"

"Look, if you're hungry, we-" Trent cut his girlfriend off.

"Okay. Look, Clay, Y/N, obviously she's just trying to be nice. But you two can't stay here. No offense, but this is a private party. I don't know you."

"No, you don't know us." Clay said.

"That's so funny, I just said that. Like two seconds ago, that I don't know you. I would probably leave soon before I get pissed off and you know..." Trent trailed off, and you stifled your laughter.

"Yeah?" Clay egged him on.

"Yeah," he replied sternly.

"What happens then?" Clay continued to antagonize him.

"Hey, look. Take it easy, Trent, all right?" the girl stepped between the boys, pressing a hand to Trent's chest, "I'll just- I'll walk you out, the three of you turned and walked toward the door.

"Jenna. Jenna, come on. Where are you going?" Trent called out, but she ignored him as she slammed the door behind her.

"Sorry about that" Jenna said to you.

"That's alright. It's his house, you know?" Clay said.

"Where's your car?" she asked as she looked around.

"I do not have a car, but I do have her" he said, as you walked up to his motorcycle.

"Nice!"

"Thanks"

"I bet she's fast. My uncle used to have a bike just like this."

"Oh, yeah. She goes real fast," Clay responded with a chuckle.

"So where you off to next?" Jenna asked after a moment of silence.

"Well, we haven't been to the other side of the lake yet, so we were probably gonna go check that out," Clay told her.

"You guys want some company?" she asked, and you could see the pleading look in her eyes.

You glanced at Clay before looking back at her, "we'd love some company," you told her.

Instead of taking his motorcycle, Jenna suggested you walk down the trail that circles the lake. You happily agreed and the three of you made your way toward the trail. You walked on Clay's right, while Jenna walked on his left. You walked in silence for a bit before Jenna spoke up.

"So you and your sister must be pretty close?"

"Yeah, we were pretty close when we were younger. But we kinda drifted, you know. I mean, I bailed when I was 17, and she stayed with my mom. Um, she kind of had to, I guess. I don't know, she's always been the responsible one" Clay explained.

"So, when's the last time you talked to her?" Jenna asked.

"Uh, about six months ago. We got into a fight, actually. She uh, she called and said she wanted to see me. Said she was counting on me, and I never showed."

"Hold on," you said as you knelt down on the side of the trail.

You picked up the object from the ground, twirling it around in your hands. Clay and Jenna came over too look over your shoulder at what you had found.

"What is that?" Jenna asked.

Clay leaned down and you handed it to him, "it's a GPS," he said as you stood back up and continued walking.

Clay handed it back to you after examining it more closely. The screen was cracked and it wouldn't turn on. You shoved it into your back pocket and continued down the trail. You walked a few more minutes before coming across the entrance to a camp. The sign above the entrance read CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE in fading white pain. You felt yourself shiver as you read the words, and you hugged Clay's jacket tighter around you.

The three of you searched all the old cabins. They were decrepit and dusty. All the old furniture was still there. The bunk beds and dressers, old lamps and toys. It was eerie to see all of the old things. You wondered how long it had been since camp had actually been held here.

The sun had set by the time you had searched almost all the cabins. Fortunately, Clay had packed two flashlights in his backpack. You gave yours to Jenna, as you could see the fear is her eyes. You did your best to stay close to Clay.

"Let's just check out this last cabin, then we'll head back" Clay said as you walked toward the final cabin.

The cabin was just as old and dirty as the rest. There were dirty baby dolls and other toys scattered all over the floor, along with the the bunk beds that were falling apart. A matted teddy bear in the corner of the room made you want to turn back for the door.

"You really should call the police" Jenna said, and you turned and hurried over to them when you realized they had moved a room over.

"I've already called. They're not looking for her anymore. No one is, except for us" Clay replied.

"Then they should look harder because-" Jenna was cut off by the floorboards breaking underneath her foot, she gasped is surprise, "ow!" she cried out as her foot fell a few inches to the dirt ground below.

"You all right?" you asked as you reached your hand out for hers.

"I'm okay, I'm okay" she lifted her foot out of the hole, bringing it up to rub her ankle.

"You sure?" Clay asked.

She nodded, "yeah."

Clay reached down and picked up a dirt crusted baby doll from out of the hole in the floor.

"Please put that nasty ass thing down," you said, and he promptly threw the doll back on the floor.

"Let's get out of here," you nodded at his words.

"Yes please."

The three of you quickly made your way out of the cabin. You walked down the dirt path until Clay's flashlight began to flicker before turning off completely.

"Give me a sec, I gotta change my batteries," Clay said as he stopped to kneel down and get some batteries out of his backpack.

Jenna shined her flashlight down so he could see while you scanned your surroundings. Surprisingly, there were still some lights on the outside of the cabins that still worked. It didn't help much in illuminating the camp, though. Suddenly, you heard rustling in the distance behind you. The three of your heads shot toward the noise.

"Someone's coming," Clay said before he got up and grabbed your hand.

"Oh shit. Let's go" Jenna said, grabbing onto your arm.

Clay pulled the two of you along to a canoe holder a few feet away. You helped Jenna slide underneath before you followed quickly behind. Clay squished himself next to you and the three of you laid there silently. Jenna held a hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. A tall, shadowy figure came walking down the main trail that cut through the whole camp. You couldn't make out many details in the darkness, but as they approached Clay's discarded backpack, it looked like a body bag was slung over their shoulder. You held tightly onto Clay's arm as you did your best to keep your breathing steady.

The figure walked up to Clay's backpack, and threw what they had been carrying to the ground with a loud thump. Now you were certain it was a dead body as you stared at the bloody stump where their head used to be. Your eyes widened and your hand flew to your mouth to stop the scream rising in your throat. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You held on tighter to Clay's arm, surely leaving imprints in his skin.

You saw the figure pick up Clay's backpack before tossing it back down. They then turned and walked off. You didn't know what he was doing at first, but it didn't matter. Clay quickly slid out from underneath the canoes and reached down to pull you out. You helped him yank Jenna out before the three of you then ran quietly to hide behind a nearby tree. You saw that whoever it was had turned on a large spotlight before walking back over to where you had been previously hiding. They angrily ripped the canoes off their holders, throwing them to the ground haphazardly. They looked around for a few seconds before they lifted the body back up and threw it over their shoulder. They grabbed Clay's backpack with their free hand and started walking towards one of the cabins.

"Wheres he going?" Clay whispered as he crept towards another tree, trying to keep the figure in sight.

"Oh my god. We gotta go," Jenna whispered frantically, but Clay shushed her.

"I gotta follow him," you grabbed Clays arm.

"Are you insane?!" you whisper yelled at him.

"He had a dead body. We gotta go. We gotta warn my friends," Jenna added.

"Jenna's right, we need to get the fuck out of here."

"Okay, okay" Clay said as he turned to follow you and Jenna.

You crept around quietly until you were a few cabins down, the. you started running. The three of you sprinted out of the camp, Jenna leading while you ran behind her. Clay took up the rear as you made your way back towards the house. You had only made it about half way when Jenna tripped over something in front of you. You stopped and helped her up.

"You okay?" Clay asked her.

"Yeah" she replied, breathlessly.

"What the hell is that?" you asked as you knelt down next to Clay.

He pulled up in a string that was at about ankle height across the path. Jenna grabbed your arm and tugged you up.

"Come on, let's go."

You continued running down the trail, following close behind Jenna. You ran for what felt like hours. Your heart continued to pound loudly in your ears as you struggled to breath. You crossed over a small bridge, a landmark that told you that you were getting close. You forced your legs to keep moving as you could see the house come into view.

"Thank god" you muttered, using the last of your strength to make it to the house.

You ran up the steps to the back of the house. Jenna shoved it open and the three of you rushed inside. Jenna went into the living room while Clay slammed the door behind you. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned the lock.

"Shit! You scared the piss out of me," one of the guys from earlier exclaimed.

Your relief was short lived as you remembered who's house you were in. Clay looked out the glass of the doors, scanning the tree line to make sure that person wasn't following you. You stood next to him with your hands cupped up against the glass as you peered out into the moonlight night.

"Where is everybody? T-There's a guy out there carrying a dead body!" Jenna told her friend.

"We need to find a phone," Clay muttered to you, "Jenna, where's the phone?" he asked her.

"Uh, I-I don't know. Over there?" she pointed toward the kitchen.

"You fucking with me cause I'm high? That's totally not cool cause I just finished smoking, okay?" Jenna's friend asked shakily.

Your eyes darted everywhere searching for the landline. You spotted it on the counter and you jogged over to pick it up. Clay was close behind as you picked it up off the receiver and passed it to him with shaky hands. He quickly dialed 911.

"Hi, I'd like to report a homicide. Uh, Clay Miller. Yeah, I'm at a house by Crystal lake. It's... Yeah, that's it. Hurry," he said into the phone before hanging up, "they said they're sending someone," he said to the room as he sped walked back over to the back door; you followed him close behind.

"Police?" you noticed Jenna's friend holding a bright purple bong in his hand, and you let out a sort laugh.

"Yeah," Clay replied as he brushed past the guy.

"Where is everybody else?" Jenna asked again.

"I don't know. I've been here all day. Chelsea and Nolan left, like, hours ago to the lake," the guy explained as was getting increasingly more panicked.

"Well, what about Trent? Bree?"

"They're in the bedroom."

You glanced over when you heard him say that, and Jenna gave you an annoyed look.

"Uh oh," you muttered, wondering if you'd have to deal with a breakup in the middle of all this shit.

"What?" Clay asked you franticly, not paying attention to anything else but keeping watch.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing" you assured him as you turned back to look out the window.

Jenna came back after a minute without Trent or Bree. Now you really hated this guy. You were just about to go over and ask if she needed you to get Clay to break the door down, when all the lights in the house went out.

"Oh fuck" you muttered.

"Who's messing with the lights?" you heard Trent yell as he walked into the living room.

"Oh shit. Chewie's still out there," you heard Jenna's friend say.

You watched Clay put the phone to his ear before shaking his head, "phones dead. Jenna, do you have a cell phone? Do you have anything?"

"No, nothing has signal" she told him.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Trent yelled as him and who you guessed was Bree walked into the living room.

"Trent-" Jenna tried to stop him, but he ignored her, continuing to yell over her.

"Get the fuck out!" he yelled at you.

"Easy" Clay yelled back.

"They're just trying to help us!" Jenna pleaded.

"Oh and you, you leave with them for eight hours, fucking all over the woods? You know what? Why don't you get the fuck out too?" Trent said angrily to Jenna.

You were running off so much adrenaline at that point that you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth, "are you fucking kidding me, bro? You say that like you and Bree weren't just up there fucking! We've been dealing with a murderer, so maybe you should shut the fuck up!" you truly didn't care what these people thought of you, so the burning embarrassment you thought would follow your rant, never came.

Clay backed you up, yelling just as loud, if not louder, "listen, dumb shit! There's a bigger problem-" Trent cut Clay off by pushing him back.

"Are you serious? There is a killer out there! He's the one who cut the lights!" Clay shouted as Jenna stepped in front of Trent.

You didn't make a move to stop Clay. You honestly wanted him to knock this guy out. You'd rather do it yourself, but it would be just as satisfying watching Clay knock the guy to the floor.

"Trent, don't you get it? Chelsea and Nolan never came back," Jenna continued to plead with Trent, "Lawrence, what are you doing?" Jenna questioned her friend as he grabbed a hanging frying pan from off its hook and headed for the back door.

"My boys still out there. I'm gonna go get him" he replied.

"That's a really bad idea, dude," you told him.

"Yeah, don't go out there. Please" Clay pleaded with him.

"Look, I told you, all right? You can't get a handle on me. I'll surprise you every time," he said with a confident smirk before heading out the back door.

'He's fucking dead,' you thought as you shook your head.

"Guys this is bullshit. The power goes out here all the time" Trent said after all of you had waited for Lawrence in silence for a while.

Suddenly, you heard screams in the distance.

"Help me!" you heard Lawrence scream from outside, "help! Help me! Please, help me!"

"Lawrence," Jenna said before running toward the back door.

Clay stepped in front of her put his hands out to stop her, "no, no, no. You can't go out there."

"We have to help him." she said.

"No, we can't-"

You cut Clay off, "he's just using your friend as bait. He wants us to go out, because the second we do, he's gonna get us too.

"Look, you don't know that," Trent said, but the shake in his voice told you that he wasn't so sure.

"Jesus, where are the police?" Bree cried out before walking into the kitchen out of view.

You could still hear Lawrence screaming for help in the distance, "I can't move!"

"Look, we have to help him," Jenna said, but you just shook your head no.

You all stood there in silence, other than Lawrence's screams, "I can't die like this! Help me, please! Trent!" you wanted to help him, but what help would you be to him dead?

"Somebody has to do something! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Bree yelled frantically as she began to sob.

You heard one final scream from outside, then nothing. All you could hear now were the sounds of Bree sobbing. Jenna reluctantly turned and walked over to where Bree was sat on the floor with her knees hugged to her chest.

"Everything's going to be okay. The cops are on their way" Jenna said to Bree as she knelt down next to her.

"You hear that?" you whispered to Clay.

He nodded, "yeah. Nothing."

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized Lawrence was most likely dead. The realization made your heart begin to pound loudly in your ears again. You couldn't hear anything over the thumping as the events of the last few hours flashed through your mind. You felt warm hands on your shoulders before being turned to the left.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Clay asked you with a concerned look on his face.

"Y-Yeah," you lied.

"Listen to me. I am not going to let anything happen to you. We are both gonna get out of this alive," he told you firmly, but still being gentle with you at the same time.

You nodded furiously as the tears began to well up in your eyes. Clay wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. He held you close, rubbing your back softly as you sniffed, trying to keep the tears in. You jumped when you heard sudden banging, and you turned to see Trent walking up the stairs. You also noticed the phone lying in pieces on the ground.

"W-What are you doing?" Clay asked him

Trent ignored him, continuing up the stairs. Bree went up after him soon after. You and Clay went back over to look out the back doors. Jenna came over and stood next to you, handing both of you a flashlight.

A few minutes passed when a knocking on the door made Jenna jump and let out a gasp. Clay shushed her. The three of you stood still as statues.

"Police!" you heard someone yell from the door.

"Oh, thank god" Jenna said as you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding it.

"Go, go" Clay ushered you to the front door.

"Police, open up!"

Jenna pushed the curtain back to the window next to the door. Before you could pull the door open, a sharp object came through it, the tip of it just barely missing your eye. You were frozen in fear as Jenna screamed and sprinted away from the door.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Go, go, go" Clay grabbed you but the waist and yanked you away from the door.

You were snapped out of your shock and the three of you ran up the stairs and into the first room you found. Clay ran over to shut any open windows.

"Get the door," Clay said.

"Okay, shit," Jenna muttered as you both turned; she let out a short scream when Trent appeared in the door way, making you jump slightly.

"What are you doing? Is he in the house?" Trent asked.

"He killed the cop" Jenna told him.

Trent cocked the pistol he was holding.

"What the fuck, you've got a gun? Let's go, now!" Clay gestured toward the gun then out the door.

You rushed quickly out of the room. Suddenly, Trent stopped and turned to shoot a few shots into the closet.

"For fucks sake!" you yelled as your hands flew up to cover your ears.

"Jesus! What are you doing!? Give me the gun!" Clay yelled at him.

You heard a thud inside the next room to your right.

"Someone's in there," Jenna said with a shake in her voice.

Clay pushed you and Jenna back as Trent turned around started shooting blindly at the closed door.

"Check it out" Clay ordered him.

Trent walked slowly toward the door before turning the handle and attempting to push it open. It seemed like something was in the way, but after one final push, it opened. Trent leaned in to check before he quickly out and shut the door.

"Bree's dead. He killed Bree!" he shouted before turning and running down the stairs.

The three of you followed him down the stairs and to the front door. Clay unlocked it and pulled the door open.

"Holy fuck" you heard the shake in your own voice as you saw the cop; a fire poker had been jabbed through his eye, and you shuddered at the fact that you could have suffered a similar fate. Clay patted down the cop, in hopes of finding anything useful.

"There's no gun, no keys, nothing. Let's go," you ran toward the cop car and Trent tried opening the passenger door with no luck.

You followed Clay to his motorcycle, "where are the keys?" he asked as he searched around for them.

"I don't know!" you replied, continuing to frantically search the ground for them.

"Help! We got officers down!" you heard Trent yell into what you assumed was the cops radio.

"My keys are gone. Where are my keys? Are they in my jacket?" you shoved your hands into the pockets of his jacket that you were wearing, finding them empty.

"No, I don't know where they are!"

"Hey Jenna, fuck these two. Let's get out of here!" Trent turned to grab at the radio again when suddenly, Bree's dead body fell on top of the hood of the cop car; the windshield shattered as Trent began to scream.

Jenna screamed too as Clay began pushing both of you you, "go, go, go!" he repeated as he pushed you toward the woods.

You ran down the trail that went around the lake, and back toward the camp. You jogged the way you had went earlier that day. When you got to the entrance of the camp, Clay led you off on a side path you hadn't noticed before.

"He was headed this way. Come on" you followed Clay to the large cabin you saw the figure walking towards earlier.

You snuck your way inside. Clay led as you held onto his hand tightly, your other arm linked with Jenna's as you crept through the cabin. The place was a decaying mess, just like the rest of the cabins had been. This one was bigger though, and it looked like it had been a counselor cabin. The more you looked around, the more it looked like someone's actual house. As you were walking through the house, you thought you heard distant, muffled screaming.

Clay stopped, seemingly he had heard it too, "did you hear that?" Clay asked and you nodded.

"What was that?" Clay shushed Jenna, and the three of you stood there in silence for a moment.

You heard another scream and it sounded like it came from below you.

"What the fuck..." Clay muttered as he began pushing debris aside with his foot. He used the small pickaxe tool he had found earlier to pull open what seemed to be some sort of basement or cellar door.

You shined your flashlight down to see that it was only a few feet deep. Clay dropped down into the hole before helping you and Jenna down. You crouched down and crawled into what looked like old mining tunnels. They were cluttered with old camping equipment, and other random junk. There was the occasional lantern hung up to keep the tunnels lit.

You walked quietly through the tunnels before coming to a fork. Clay looked at both of his options before turning down the right path.

"This way," Clay said before leading the way down the long tunnel.

The tunnel led to another cluttered area. Off to the right, you saw Whitney chained up and sat on a dirty mattress on the floor.

"Clay? Y/N?" she said in disbelief.

"Whitney? Whitney!" Clay said as he rushed over to her.

"Oh my god, Whitney!" you exclaimed as you followed him.

You were surprised to see her still alive. You were beyond thankful, but after seeing that headless body, your hope of finding her had diminished greatly.

"Thank god," Clay knelt down and hugged her.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he held her close.

"Yeah. Thank god," she echoed.

"You're okay. You're okay. Oh god," he said as he pulled away, holding her face in his hands.

You knelt down next to her and looked down at the chains holding her in place.

"Just get me out of here," Whitney begged.

"We will, we're gonna get you out of here" you told her as you aimed the flashlight down so Clay could see.

"Come on, you guys, let's go," Jenna said frantically from behind you.

"Can you break it? Just break it," Whitney said.

Clay picked up his pickaxe and Whitney held her hands up on a box next to her. You reached over and helped to keep her hands apart and steady. It was a futile effort, as all your hand were shaking.

"Hold still" Clay told her.

"Please hurry," Whitney cried.

Clay reared back then whacked the pickaxe down, missing the chain.

"We gotta get out of here" you heard Jenna whimper from behind you.

"I don't wanna hit you," he said, worriedly.

"Just fucking do it!" Whitney said.

"Okay, okay" Clay took another swing, missing again.

You heard a loud thud in the distance.

"Oh god" Whitney whispered.

One more swing and Clay broke the chain.

"You guys, I can see him. He's coming," Jenna said as she ran back toward you.

"We gotta go," you said as you stood up.

"Grab onto me," Clay told Whitney as he wrapped his arm around her middle.

You helped him lift her up off the ground and the four of you started running down the tunnel, the opposite way of which you came. You ran a few minutes before Jenna stopped in front of you.

"It's a dead end. What are we gonna do?" you heard her say as you saw the end of the tunnel, "Clay?Hurry," Jenna pleaded as he looked around for a way out.

"Here. Here!" Clay pushed on a grate that was above you; he pulled and yanked on it but it wouldn't budge.

He looked down in front of him at a pile of boxes, "we can get through here," you and Clay knocked them down to reveal a small opening in the dirt wall.

"Follow me," Clay said before he crawled in first.

He turned around and stuck his hand out to Whitney, and you ushered her inside. You quickly followed, taking Clay's hand and letting him pull you in. You turned around to help Jenna.

"Give me your hand, Jenna. Come on hurry. Okay, I got you," Clay said as he grabbed Jenna's hand.

Before you could pull her all the way in, a machete was plunged through Jennas chest. Whitney screamed as you all fell back.

"Oh my- fuck! Jesus, god, no," Clay tried to grab Jenna's outstretched hand.

"Clay no, come on. Clay!" Whitney said as you both tried to pull him back.

"Oh, fuck" he muttered as the blade was pulled back out of Jenna, and the man pushed her lifeless body to the side.

"She's gone Clay, we gotta go!" you grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

You ran down the tunnel as fast as you could. As you were running, Whitney accidentally kicked a box with her foot, knocking over a lantern. You heard it shatter on the ground and the loud whoosh of the flames you felt the heat behind you. You hoped that would slow the bastard down.

"Look. I think this might be a way out" Whitney said as you reached a wooden ladder leading up.

Clay climbed up, pushing floorboards out of the way, "alright. Let's go. Come on. Hurry," Clay said once he decided the coast was clear.

You let Whitney go up first, checking behind you as she climbed up the rickety ladder. Clay pulled her up before reaching down to help you.

"Come on," you climbed up and reached out for his hand, letting him pull you up and out of the hole, "let's go," he said as he turned and started walking.

You quickly realized you were in an overturned bus. Clay walked to the other end of it with you and Whitney close behind. The door to leave was above you, and Clay yanked and hit at it to get it open.

"Shit, it's stuck," Clay muttered.

Finally he was able to yank on the handle and it squeaked open. Clay climbed out before reaching down to help you.

"Give me your hand!" Clay called down to you.

You helped push Whitney up and out of the hole as she reached for Clays hand.

"On three. One, two-" before he could finish, something pulled him back.

"Run! Whitney, Y/N, get-" he was cut off as he was yanked away.

"Clay!" Whitney yelled.

"Clay!" you echoed her.

"Stop it!" Whitney yelled as Clays head was smashed through a window above you.

"No! Clay!" you looked up and saw the man who had been terrorizing you; his face was covered by a hockey mask, but you could see his wide eyes staring down at you.

"Shit. Shit, what do we do?" Whitney cried.

"We hide. Move, move" you pushed her toward the other end of the bus.

Whitney climbed up onto a small ledge above the hole you just came out of. You crouched down to the left behind a row of bus seats at the very back of the bus. You stayed quiet as the man walked slowly over to the hole before looking down into it.

"Fuck you," you heard Whitney spit.

You peeled out from your hiding spot to watch her use both her feet to kick him backwards, causing him to fall into the hole.

She hopped off the ledge, tripping and falling face first on the floor. The man came up out of the hole and grabbed onto Whitney's ankle. She screamed as she tried to crawl froward. Her nails scraped along the metal of the bus. She kicked at the man's face, but he didn't let go. She continued to scream as you looked around for anything to help. You noticed a plank and your feet, and you lifted it up over his head. You brought it down hard, knocking him down into the hole and forcing him to release his grip on Whitney's ankle. You jumped over the hole and helped Whitney to her feet as you heard creaking above you.

"Y/N! Whitney!" Clay yelled from above you.

"Clay!" Whitney called back, running toward the other end of the bus, you close behind.

The rain started to pour down onto the three of you as Clay helped you out of the bus. You helped push Whitney up before Clay pulled you up. He helped the two of you hop off the side of the bus before you started running off into the woods as the rain soaked through your clothes. You ran for awhile before coming across the barn you had stopped at earlier in the day. Clay made sure the coast was clear before waving you over.

"Hide" Clay whispered as you stepped into the cluttered barn.

Whitney grabbed onto your hand and pulled you to the left, the two of you crouching down behind a pile of random junk. Clay walked further into barn as you knelt down behind some boxes with Whitney. Suddenly you heard a loud crash. You couldn't see their fight from where you were crouched down. Whitney stood up slightly and peeked out to watch. You waited a few seconds before looking over her shoulder.

The man pulled out his machete and swung it at Clay. Your whole body tensed as Clay dodged the blade and pushed the masked man back into the wall. He was quick to flip Clay around and slam him against a huge wood chipper. It whirred to life, and you recognized it to be the machinery you had heard earlier that day. The man threw Clay to the floor before picking him back up by his hair, pushing his head toward the spinning blades of the wood chipper.

"Shit, Whitney, we have to do something or he's gonna kill Clay," Whitney looked like she was thinking before she stood up and walked to the center of the barn.

"Whitney, wait!" you whisper yelled, but she didn't listen.

You stayed hidden, looking around for some kind of weapon. You saw a metal baseball bat lying in the grassy floor next to you. You picked it up and readied yourself to run out if you needed to.

"Jason," Whitney called out.

You watched him turn and look at her. She held something up, it looked like a necklace of some sort. You peered out and watched the killer throw Clay to the ground.

"It's okay," Whitney said as she began to walk closer to him, "you can stop now. It's okay," you didn't know what the hell she was doing, but it was too late to stop her now.

You watched Clay charge him, hitting him with something in his back. You stood and rushed over as Clay wrapped chain around his neck. Whitney took the other end of the chain and threw it into the wood chipper. The chain got stuck, and yanked Jason into the air by his neck. He thrashed around in the air, trying to get free, with no luck. Clay walked around him and back over to you and Whitney.

Suddenly, the board snapped that the chain was wrapped around snapped, causing Jason to fall to the floor. He quickly got back up, grabbing a piece of the broken wood and hitting Clay across the face with it. He went flying backwards until he hit the wall of the barn, falling to the floor. Jason then turned and hit you in the stomach, causing you to fly backwards too. You landed in a pile of junk, every part of your body aching.

"Y/N!?" you only groaned in pain as you felt a pair of hands grab you, "Y/N! Are you okay?" Clay pulled you up and into his arms.

"I don't know" he held you up as he helped you walk back towards Whitney.

You looked over and saw Jason, laying back against the wood chipper, covered in blood with a machete in his chest. You then looked over at Clay, who had a cut on his left cheek. You reached up and cupped his cheek gently. You also noticed the bruise already forming on his chin where he had been hit with the plank of wood.

"Can you stand?" he asked you.

You nodded as you tried to put your weight back into your wobbly legs, "I think so. Let's get out of here, leave this for someone else."

"What if he..." Whitney trailed off.

"He won't. There's no way. Let's just get the hell out of here!"

Whitney nodded in agreement. The three of you started to head out of the barn, Clay keeping you upright with an arm around your middle. Whitney was on your either side, holding you up as well.

You couldn't help but take one last look behind you, and you could have sworn you saw him twitch. You ignored it, telling yourself that it was finally over.

"I told you we'd make it out alive," Clay said with a weak smile.

"I told you we'd find Whitney," you kissed his cheek before doing the same to Whitney, and she chuckled, which made smile.

#friday the 13th #friday the 13th movie #friday the 13th 2009 #clay miller #clay miller x reader #jason vorhees #female reader #friday the 13th x reader #friday the 13th 2009 x reader #x reader #userbored-writer101 #jared padalecki #jared padalecki character x reader #jared padalecki character

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streets-in-paradise · 8 months

Text

Hope - Clay Miller x Reader

Friday 13th (2009) Oneshot

Warnings: Some cringy dialogue ( let's face it,the group are all cringy stereotypes lol). Allusions to Jason's story and some grim warnings regarding him. I'm also expanding the new rule introduced in the 2009 film, where sense of familiarity with his past not only distracted him but also made him spare a life for a while.

Summary: You are the only person who has given Clay any hope on the desperate search for his sister. Unlike most of the locals he had approached, some mysterious reason keeps you convinced that she could still be alive and on this determination you join forces with him.

Nobody else seems to mind about it and when the blatant disrespect from a tourist really pisses you off, you stand up for Clay giving him a frightening show exposing why he should care.

Tags: @drum-bot-brian

It was weird for Clay to find a self presented volunteer when the entire community was ignoring him, but when you approached him with the missing poster in hand offering your help he felt slightly relieved. At least he wasn’t completely alone and although you were a bit odd, you had a strong will to support him. Looking at Whitney’s picture, you simply stated that she looked like a sweet girl and that could possibly mean she could still be around. When asked about it, you acted as if some intuition based on practical knowledge would be telling you that. You wouldn’t tell him why, but you were convinced that she was still to be found.

Of course, it was not going to be easy and the shitty attitudes you would find in the way were unnerving. The handsome, soft tempered boy you were following had the patience of a saint, but you wouldn’t stand it. The tone deaf blond guy at the gas station was the moment when you knew you had enough.

After a very brief argument Clay was just going to leave, but you had other plans.

“ He will wreck you.” You casually told the stranger in a sinister tone. “ Mock us while you still can, blondie. I believe his sister has a chance ... You? Not so much."

Everyone was weirded, but he thought you were just looking for a fight.

“ Yeah, I don’t think so.” Was his self satisfying reply. “ You, him and who else?”

It made you chuckle and you struggled for it not to turn into a full loud cackle.

“ You aren’t from here, aren’t you? " You followed, giving a few steps closer to him with a weirdly intimidating demeanor. “ People don’t get to be jerks here and walk out harmless, the forest has eyes and its guardian loathes people like you the most..”

The asshole clearly didn't get to fully comprehend the meaning of your words. Still, you managed to creep him and his girlfriend, what was enough vengeance for you. The most inmediate reaction you obtained for Clay was a bit of hard to hide laughing, probably thinking that you were just messing with the guy, but he did capture some underneath intentionality in your strange warning.

He trully thought it was a joke, untill he later referenced it again in a lighter note and your face let him know it wasn't a funny little scheme he should feel thankfull for.

" You don't have to thank me, it's all real. " You cutted him off. " Weird things happen arround here, the kind that nobody would believe. People go missing to never be found and we pretend is not our problem … I need to help you because i really like you and you HAVE to get out from here as soon as possible. "

Your hand was shaking and he held it as as a reassuring gesture before inviting you to continue.

" If you know anything that could make this easier, please share it. "

Your soft look adquired a glimpse of skepticism.

" It doesn't matter. Even if i try to explain you, it would be impossible to make you understand. One does not believe it untill you see it and very few survive to tell the tale. "

He smiled and you couldn't help to internally melt to the softness in his expression.

" I promise i will believe you. Or at least I will do my best, anything that may help me understand would be amazing ríght now. "

The indirectly mocking tone in the last part made you smile back, then you swallowed hard ríght before starting your tale.

" To many persons he can mean different things, but I see him as a guardian of the forest. Not necesarily of the enviromental care type, but we know he hunts down people for doing stupid shit. It's a sort of local legend: a bullied kid who died back in the old summer camp and now remains as an undead watcher of the area. Legend says that once triggered he can't be stopped, but i believe different and that's why i feel your sister could be alive. "

He wasn't getting it, but kept himself loyal to the promise and didn't question you. His guess was in myth and reality mixing up to end up covering the activity of a serial killer whose victims were attributed to the legend by the locals.

One way or another, it wasn't the hopefull take he once expected.

" What made you think that? Besides from an obvious bias coming from your interest in me."

You felt a bit embarrased, but it didn't ruined your disposition to continue.

" I believe he is capable of sparing a life only when coming across things he finds familar. I saw it happening with my own two eyes. "

It wasn't easy, but you had to tell him the truth.

" Back in highschool I wanted so badly to belong, to feel how was like to be a part of something. I was hanging out with people who just wanted to make fun of me, fooling myself into believing someday i could be friends. "

You began to cry, pausing for an instant untill the sobbing would be slow enough to allow you finish.

" … They are gone and i'm still here. Common sense would be thinking i just hid myself well, i fooled him. I didn't, i can't help thinking he just pretended not to spot me. The pathetic, lonely, bullied looser must have have hitted close to home. "

You hugged him out of sudden and he didn't protest about it. Of all the weird things you said, he only understood you were admitting to be the only survivor of a massacre.

" Your sister seems like a lovely girl. If i'm still breathing, you can count there is hope for her. "

He had no words that could possibly express any processing of what you just told him, but trully appreciated the deep comfort of your embrace.

#friday 13th #clay miller #jared padalecki #clay miller x reader #jared padalecki x reader #friday 13 th 2009

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑯

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, comfort

word count: 2.5k

summary: joel brings you a care pack Maria gave him and you find a razor inside but when you confess your insecurities around the topic, Joel offers to help you out.

warnings: oral (receiving), reader having body hair and mentions of people nagging her about it pre-outbreak, joel trimming and shaving you, very domestic and soft joel

a/n: this is very self-indulgent babes, very soft joel, very domestic joel. I just want that big gruff man to take care of me thank you very much.

You still love the rain.

It didn’t matter if you were out under a tent, didn’t matter if you were huddled with Joel in a cave—you still loved it all the same. The sound of thunder, the cold water drops against your skin, the smell.

God, the smell of wet soil, the freshness of it swirling in your lungs. Observing the gray sky, the moving clouds, and the peaks of the mountains hidden beneath them, you’re in love with it all. Even on days when you were frustrated, angry, bloody, and bruised, the rain seemed to wash that all away without even touching your skin.

You smile underneath the heavy downpour of the steaming shower. Your bones ache tenderly, muscles turning to shapable clay underneath waterdrops. It’s heavenly. You don’t even remember the last time you felt warm water sliding down your body. Even after giving Tommy an earful about not letting Joel know he was alright, you have to give him kudos for building a life for himself. Jackson seems like the perfect community; there was food, hot water, homes—and most importantly, safety.

Turning off the water, you step outside. It almost feels like the old days. Your mirror is fogged up, the steam clinging to your softened skin. Wrapping a towel snugly around your body, you wonder what Joel is up to.

Tommy and Maria had prepared you two separate rooms. It wasn’t needed, but you kept your mouth shut at the time. It’s still hard to know what Joel would be comfortable with. Maybe he preferred to sleep alone, you didn’t want to force him into anything he didn’t want to. He hadn’t said anything to that, he just placed a hand over your thigh, squeezing it tenderly from underneath the table. His gaze never left Tommy’s when he did, the conversation still flowing effortlessly.

When you step out of the bathroom, the steam shadowing your steps, you’re surprised to find Joel on the bed.

His gaze slowly moves up, a smile blossoming on his lips. You had dubbed that smile of his his “half-smile”. Happy but unsure if he should be.

“Lookin’ good,” he murmurs, soft browns raking up and down your body. “Fresh as a daisy.”

You grin and, lifting the bottom of your towel slightly, give him an unbalanced bow. “Why thank you, kind sir.”

His smile widens and you practically melt under his gaze. Without saying another word, he throws a small bag toward you. Nearly falling, you catch it and peek inside. It’s a menstrual cup, a half-decent razor, and a small pair of scissors. You shoot him a quizzical look.

“From Maria,” he says. “I have no idea what’s in it.”

“Nothing important. A menstrual cup and a razor.” you exhale.

“Then why are you actin’ as if she gave you a severed finger? Aren’t those…good things?”

“It is. Just, I don’t know. It’s good.”

He raises to his feet and a second later two strong arms wrap themselves around you. You lean into him without a second thought, if water is seeping through his shirt, he doesn’t say a word. Joel’s thumbs move in circles above the towel. You let out a sigh.

“I’m not good at it,” you say hoping that he’ll just understand.

He doesn’t.

“Not good at what?”

You really hate this. It’s a stupid thing to worry about but your inability to properly shave had always proven to be an issue before the outbreak. Men scrunching up their noses, friends commenting you should get it removed, professionals claiming it’s “dirty” when realistically speaking it wasn't.

Then the outbreak happened, and even though it was the end of the world, at least you didn’t need to worry about body hair. A bit of a heartless thought, you realize, but your brain still whispers gratitude from time to time.

Joel didn’t mind, or just didn’t say anything. He held you all the same, fucking himself deeper with every thrust, holding you tight enough that you were convinced he’d never let you go. He starved for you. Some days he tasted you until you felt raw and overwhelmed. He never said anything. Why would he when the both of you were just trying to survive?

But now that was different. You had a temporary home, warm water.

A bed.

It just feels silly to admit this insecurity now. He’s already seen it all, felt it all, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to tidy yourself up a bit. You have the time after all. God knows when you’ll get a chance like this again.

Joel’s arms tighten around you and you feel his chapped lips against your neck. You’ve been silent for too long.

“Tell me.”

You swallow. “Shaving.” you answer. “I’m not…I’m not good at it. Always miss a spot especially—”

“Especially?”

You hear the blood rush in your ears, your heart beats in your throat. Your lips are sealed shut, a thin line refusing to break. When his hand slides down your stomach you look down, your legs already shaking. His lips touch your ear.

“Show me.”

Covering his hand with your own, you guide him down until it’s resting on your mound. His fingers gently press down, he feels the fabric of the towel and his lips brush the side of your chin.

“Do you want me to help?” his breath feels heavy and warm against your skin.

“You’d…” you lick your lips. “You’d want to do that?”

“Only if you want me to,” he answers, large hands gripping your hips. “You don’t have to do it, of course. I mean, you don’t have to shave if that’s not your thing.”

You turn within his arms and cradle his face with both hands. You feel light as a feather, soft tears building in your eyes as you smile. Joel must’ve seen the extra shine because he leans in to kiss you. It’s not a consuming kiss but a comforting one. You take deep breaths as those same pair of lips travel down the column of your throat, his kisses wet when he reaches your shoulder. He gently nudges you towards the bed.

“Lay down the towel, get comfortable.” you feel his lips one more time before he parts away. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You do as you’re told. Laying down the towel, you swallow how nervous you are. The coolness of the room chills your skin but your insides are boiling hot. You feel like you should do more than just laying down on a towel, like you should prepare more thoroughly. But you’ve already taken a shower. Not really much else you can do but that right?

Your fingers twitch over the bed sheets and stare blankly at the ceiling. This is awkward. You should’ve said no, you should’ve—

“Breath in, sweetheart,” Joel says standing at the door with a small bucket and another towel. He sighs when you give him a look of—what you assume—absolute horror.

The bed dips as he takes a seat at the end. Placing the bucket full of water down, he skims your leg with the tips of his fingers.

“We can stop whenever you want to,” he reminds you. “I promise to be careful.”

You mutter alright and as soon as you do his hand moves to the inner section of your leg, heat gathers at the base of your spine, you let out a breath.

“Part you legs for me, honey.”

The pose alone feels uncomfortably familiar. You remember the days you would have to get waxed, how it would hurt and how you would just stare at the ceiling thinking that it’d be over soon. You press your sweaty hands into the sheets, a slight termble to your thighs as Joel comes closer. His hand finds the dip of your waist, his touch feather light, moving up your body and resting right under the swell of your breast. The gesture sooths you like it would a wounded animal. You let out a breath.

Your gaze drops to look at him and he holds your gaze, squeezing your flesh tenderly before pulling back his hand. He raises his brows and you nod at his silent question. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. And when your head falls back into the pillows you’re smiling, the tension drained away from your muscles.

You never thought that this would be the type of comfort you would be receiving during the ends of the earth. Joel is gentle, precise. He’s a man that’s good with his hands and it shows. His thumb moves between your folds, when you let out a sharp sigh, he repeats the movement and his lips curl with amusement.

“You like that?”

You hum. “It feels good.”

“I’ll make you feel even better in a bit.”

First he trims down the hairs, then he dabs your mound with the water he brought and begins shaving you. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s oddly soothing. His fingers move over the places that are freshly shaved, a soft hum echoing from his throat at a job well done. He takes his time. And whenever you look down you notice the swirl of emotion in his eyes that he’s enjoying doing this for you. The crease between his brows softens, the tip of his tongue snug between his lips as he continues. It’s nice.

“You enjoy this?” you ask, it sounds louder in the silence of the room.

Joel takes a moment to wet the razor again, cleaning the access. When he looks up to you, you can’t help but press your knee into his cheek. He leans into the contact, lips finding the slope and leaving a tender kiss.

“I enjoy that you trust me,” he murmurs. “I enjoy takin’ care of you.”

“That’s a relief,” you answer, your head falling back down. You shudder as you feel his lips once more, then he spreads your legs again. “And for the record I do like…being taken care of.”

“You don’t need to be shy about it,” he drawls. “I know.”

Your heart skips a beat, blood pools under your nails. “You do?”

“I mean…yeah?” he chuckles. “We’ve been together for a while, you and I, and I think by now I know a thing or two of what you like. I love it when you cling to me when I’m inside you, the way you mutter for me to hold you and go harder,” his voice drops a beat, his breath hot and heavy as it fans over your sex. Slick pools between your legs. “I know it wasn’t always good with me but I’m glad to be the person you turn to.”

“Joel…”

Before you can say anything, he presses a towel against your core and wipes you down. He doesn’t look back at you as he does so. You know that it’s hard for him to say that. To confess something he hadn’t even confessed to himself for years.

“All done.” he says, throwing the razor into the bucket and the towel to the floor. Joel doesn’t move away, and neither do you. Your breathing grows heavy, your chest stuttering with every exhale. He comes closer and guides your legs above his shoulder. You feel his breath, his heat, his gaze.

He kisses the skin right under your pubic bone, he holds your gaze as he moves up, his lips tender against your folds.

“Can I?” he whispers, the need of his tone sending shudders up your spine.

“Go ahead.”

Joel’s tongue dips between the lips of your cunt, his lips moving the same way it does when he presses them onto your mouth. His fingers bite into your skin, the movement of his tongue more eager as he tugs you further down and into his mouth. Joel savors the taste as moves he long and slow. You feel the flat of his tongue, the trembling of his chest as he groans into you. Without thinking you jerk towards his mouth, his lips too sinful, too good for you to stay still. You thread your fingers into his hair and pull him closer.

A moan part your lips as he parts your folds and flicks his tongue over your clit. A sharp feeling of pelasure courses through you, too sudden to be described as a wave, too overwhelming and lingering to be described as a jolt of electricity. He’s the only one to make you feel like this. He laves at the sensitive bundle fo nerves, pursing his lips around the nub and swirling his tongue around it. You chase the feeling, grinding up into him until he pins your hips down and inhales you.

“Stay still,” he groans. “You taste so good, honey. Could live out the rest of my days spoilin’ this perfect cunt.”

He sloopily laps at your cunt and sucks at the clit, the pads of his fingers draw circles over your aching hole before sliding two in. Your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping nearly all the way to your chest.

“Shit—” you choke out, your hips trembling. “Shit, shit, shit. Joel, please—”

“Love it when you get all needy for me,” he says, licking a stripe up between your folds as he rocks his fingers deeper into you. “My sweet girl, can’t even as what she wants. You want me to make you come, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you cry out. “Yes, yes, please make me come. Please—you feel so good, Joel.”

He nips at the inside of your thigh before coming back to your sex, his fingers are knuckle deep and you see white when he curls them. Every nerve is burning with want, with need. Your stomach tightens, your skin prickling with everything he does. You can barely breathe, suffocating and swallowing down your bated breaths.

He takes his time, pulling his fingers out before plunging them back in, pushing you to the very brink. You shudder, your body trembling with pleasure as he laps and suckles at your sweetest spots. His tongue moves in circles and swirls, flicking and rubbing against your clit as he increases the tempo. His fingers work in tandem, thrusting deep inside you, his other hand holding you firmly in place.

Your body is consumed by him, your mind spinning from the intensity of it. Joel doesn't let up, his movements becoming more and more frenzied as he brings you to the edge of oblivion. You can feel your orgasm building inside you, and as it reaches its peak you break down, letting out a cry as you gush around his fingers and drench his lips. You grip at Joel's hair as your body is rocked by wave after wave of pleasure, your hips bucking wildly against his face as your orgasm takes full control.

Joel holds you close, his fingers still inside you as your orgasm slowly subsides. He kisses your stomach, and you feel a warmth spread through you.

He pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before moving up your body and pulling you into a tight embrace. There’s something incredibly vulnerable about you being completely in the nude while he’s compeltly clothed. You curl into a ball, he pulls you closer.

“I think I need another shower,” you grin, looking up. “You made a mess of me, Joel Miller.”

“Up to you,” he murmurs and presses his lips to your forehead. “But this time I’m joining you.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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iamasaddie · 3 months

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consequences

paring: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: explicit warnings: explicit sexual content, light pain!kink, daddy!kink, daddy!dom!Joel/sub!reader, no use of Y/N a/n: the continuation of my writing challenge fic sprinkled with the valentine's day prompt i posted a month ago! thanks to sweetest person in the world for coming to my rescue and bing a beta to this fic @janaispunk ily more than pedro loves frozen pizza 🍕💛 word count: 2k masterlist

After Joel’s call you’d been buzzing all night, tossing and turning in your bed until the early hours of the morning. You hid under the blanket from the mockingly cheerful chirping of the birds that felt like pebbles being thrown at you. The darkness and heavy weight of the blanket soothed you into dreamless sleep until you were once again torn out of it by the buzzing of your phone. You wouldn’t have heard it on any other day ignoring every sound until you got your fill of sleep, but you were too wound up for that right now.

Your hand slid under the pillow, retracting your phone and checking the messages. Just like you thought, there was only one short text from Joel.

’I just left the house, be ready.’

Sleep has quickly left your body, giving way to excitement and anxiety. You jumped out of bed, stopping for a second when your head went dizzy and your eyes unfocused. Taking a couple deep breaths you hurried to the bathroom; if Joel just left that meant you had approximately twenty minutes to shower, shave where needed, moisturize and pick pretty lingerie. You looked at the big cotton panties you eventually wore to bed yesterday and shrugged. Joel had seen you in all kinds of clothes, in all kinds of states, and found you attractive both in your sweatpants and an oversized ratty t-shirt, and in a silk nightgown you were gifted for Valentine’s day. Still, you felt like you might get off easy if you were extra sexy. Maybe Joel’s mind would stop working as soon as he saw you and his dick went hard.

You lathered your body in shower gel, the smell of sweet white peaches filling the small room. You scrubbed yourself squeaky clean, humming a song that was stuck in your head, your toothpaste foaming out of your mouth. Before climbing out of the shower you slowly traced your hand over the parts of your body that you shaved, making sure there weren’t any traitorous hairs that you didn’t catch. Happy with the result, your skin smooth and smelling like summer, you checked your phone. Judging by the clock, you had no more than five minutes left, so you quickly dried yourself off and skipped to pick out the killer panties and bra set.

You settled on a cute black one, the almost transparent material of bra cups and panties was embroidered with pretty red hearts. It made you feel sexy and bold, and it made Joel lose his pants in less than three minutes.

Giggling to yourself, you straightened the bed and laid down on top of your simple pink sheets when you heard your door opening downstairs. As usual, Joel used the key you kept under the flower pot outside to let himself in. He joked about the amount of flower pots in your garden on more than one occasion, considering the fact that you killed any plant you bought within a couple of weeks. You even managed to kill a cactus and that was the last victim of your plant-killing spree that left behind too much evidence in the form of dozens of clay pots.

With a smirk, you listened to his footsteps growing louder as he made his way up the stairs, your heart pounding in your ears. As the door creaked open, Joel's voice called out.

“I hope you're ready, because you’re not escaping your punishment.”

His eyes settled on you sprawled on your bed and his brows furrowed, his jaw going slack. The unmistakable fiery passion you saw in his eyes sent shivers down your spine as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. In that moment, you realized that there would indeed be consequences for your playful teasing, but you were more than ready to face them head-on.

“Why aren’t you naked, baby?” He didn’t let your little trick affect his plans like you hoped, your mouth dropped open and you tried to stutter out a reply while Joel rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. You were surprised that he decided to wear something so formal, he usually wore sweatpants or shorts and an old t-shirt when he visited your house. Your mouth filled with saliva as more and more of his thick tanned forearms showed. This time, there was no escaping the threatening notes in Joel's voice as he took a deliberate step closer, his unwavering gaze locking with yours. You knew exactly what kind of mood he was in and your insides shivered with excitement, arousal already staining the gusset of your panties.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” your voice was anything but remorseful, little devils dancing in your eyes, “I just wanted to be pretty for you.”

“You wanted to be bratty for me, and you succeeded. Your little whore self thought you’d get off easy if you met me in this number? Well, lucky for me I rubbed one out before coming here, sweetheart."

“But…”

“Do you really want to finish this sentence, baby?”

You shook your head and Joel leaned down over you, taking your face in his palms, “good girl.”

You got rid of your underwear while you saw him fumbling with his phone and strategically placing it so the camera was facing you.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was suddenly surprisingly shy, nipples hardened from the exposure and anticipation.

“We’re gonna make a little video lesson for you, so that you know how to please your pretty pussy when I’m not around.” Joel said matter of factly. He checked the angle on the screen, “move a little to the right, baby, and spread that pretty pussy.”

You abided him immediately, without question. It was something you were used to. Not shooting porn with Joel, no, in fact, that was the first time; but trusting him blindly. What he says goes, because somehow he always knew what made you feel best.

Your fingers slowly traced down your body, pinching your nipples on the way and getting a warning glare from Joel. Going lower you let your legs spread further apart before parting your pussy lips with your index fingers. Arousal covered your burning flesh, and you felt your digits slipping.

“What a gorgeous fucking cunt,” Joel lowered himself on his knees before the bed and dragged you by your ankles so your thighs framed his shoulders. “If only she didn’t have a mind of her own, hm? One that makes my perfect little girl act like the brattiest slut in a Vegas whorehouse.”

He didn’t let you say anything, biting into the soft flesh of your thigh with vigor so that the word you tried to push out was broken by a half scream-half moan. Whatever you thought your punishment would be, you definitely didn’t consider Joel going down on you and recording it. If that was the case you’d have to misbehave more often, you smirked to yourself as you felt your man’s wet and hot tongue sliding through your folds.

“Sweet as sin,” he mumbled, grazing your throbbing clit with his upper lip,”and twice as dangerous.”

Joel knew your body well, sometimes you felt like he knew it too well, dangerously well. He knew your ticks, and pleasure points, and pain spots and all of the erogenous zones, some of which you didn’t even know existed. He possessed a power over you that would make a normal person terrified, but you were too fucked up in the head, too hungry for the love he’s been giving you to care one bit.

His tongue drew tight circles around your pulsing clit dropping from time to time to lick the arousal where it leaked around his fingers. The upcoming orgasm made you numb to everything but pleasure and you almost didn’t catch it when first one, then two and then the burning stretch of three fingers started plunging into you and coaxing the release from you.

It didn’t take you long, the movements just right, the pace perfect, and in a couple of moments you were squeezing Joel’s fingers with your contracting muscles, panting heavily.

You tried to catch your breath, but Joel didn’t stop. None of his movements changed and you thought that maybe he didn’t notice you cumming.

“Daddy, I came,” you whispered, your trembling hands sliding into his hair, gripping the curly strands that were more salt than pepper.

Joel’s hums into your pussy were quiet, but the sensitive skin of your pussy felt the vibrations zap through it. His tongue continued torturing you, never giving you a chance to calm down before ripping another orgasm out of you. Your back snapped, arching so hard you thought you’d heard your spine crack. When you stopped shaking, but Joel was still stubbornly nipping and licking your clit, spitting on it after getting a long inhale with his nose pressed into the soft skin of your pussy and diving back in, you finally understood your punishment.

Joel was uncharacteristically quiet, usually he would spew all kinds of filth in your ear, but now he didn’t spare a second to mutter anything so as not to give your poor pussy any rest. The only sounds coming out of him were pleased hums and moans that spread from your cunt and to your brain in electric shocks.

By the fifth orgasm you forgot about everything. You forgot the camera that was still recording you becoming less and less coherent, you forgot the place you were at, you even forgot your own name, the only thing you knew was raw pleasure on the verge of pain that made your eyes water and your mouth plead.

“It hurts, Daddy, I can’t do it anymore,” you cried, trying to move away from his death grip. Your vision was blurry with tears but you still saw Joel’s head appear from between your legs, smacking his lips intentionally loud. He looked satisfied, a cat that just managed to steal and eat thanksgiving turkey, but two of his meaty fingers continued pushing in and out of your tender cunt.

“Baby, you know Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.”

You felt another orgasm sending electric pulses through your body. It was a constant state of painful bliss, your body was both tired and wound up. You let your tears stream freely down your cheeks, salty water collecting in the shells of your ears but you were too out of it to be bothered or even pay attention. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and whining and begging, unintentional whimpers flowing out of you with every breath. Your eyes dropped closed for what you thought was just a moment but turned out to be way longer.

The next time you opened your eyes it was already dark in your room. Your body was hot, sweat sticking to your back that was pressed into the man spooning you from behind. You started shifting when you realized something about you was different. Squeezing your thighs you quickly realized what that was exactly. Nestled deep inside you was a throbbing hard shaft of Joel’s cock. It felt so right spreading your soft and aching walls that you didn’t feel any discomfort at all, if you ignored the burning sting of your swollen pussy and clit.

When Joel’s hand traveled to your sternum and cupped your left tit, your pussy squeezed him once again, both of you moaning in tandem.

“The punishment is over, baby, now let Daddy give you a reward.” He whispered, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your neck as you hummed in agreement.

#iamasaddie fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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yelena-bellova · 1 year

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Someone’s Something

Plot: Joel, Y/n and Ellie meet Henry and Sam, who try to convince them to team up to find their way out of Kansas City together.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: tlou ep.5 spoilers, languge, implied smut, guns, mention of death, sa and loss of a child (16+)

A/N: Happy Valentines, y’all!! My gift to you is some light heartbreak with some fluff to soften the blow 😉

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

Y’all have blown this lil’ ficlet idea up so much, I’m still shocked it’s this loved. I’m so excited to finish out the second half of the season with you guys. Hang onto your butts 🤍

——————

July 1st, 2002. Austin, Texas.

Y/n had integrated perfectly into the Miller’s life. Sarah adored her, Tommy loved her, and Joel couldn’t get enough of her. He’d never admit it to Sarah, but he was thankful that she’d taken matters into her own hands and snuck down to the hardware store that June day.

In the beginning of July, Sarah went away to a two-week summer camp. Joel and Y/n had seen her off on the bus, Joel fussing over whether or not she had everything she’d need. He didn’t do well when she was gone for more than a day, a combination of missing her dearly and parental worry. Y/n had made it her goal over the course of her trip to distract him as much as she could.

They’d made a dinner date at Joel’s house the day Sarah left, the first of fourteen that Y/n had to keep him busy. His days would be consumed by work, but his nights belonged to them. Y/n knocked on the front door of the house, carrying a six pack she’d picked up on the way.

Joel hurried to the door, swinging it open and enveloping Y/n in a hug. She laughed, clinging to his neck as he literally dragged her into the house. Joel’s lips were on her the second the door shut.

“Missed you,” he mumbled between kisses.

“You saw me, like, six hours ago,” Y/n managed to say.

“Way too long,” Joel smiled against her lips.

Y/n chuckled, “Yeah, well, if I die from lack of oxygen,” she wiggled a hand between their smushed chests, “You’re gonna miss me a whole lot more.”

Joel wrapped an arm around her neck, smiling so big his cheeks hurt. That was the effect Y/n had on him. She’d turned his curmudgeon qualities, plying them like clay until they were soft. He was a new man with her in his life.

“Joel,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” He was barely taking in her words, focused on how her lips were starting to swell from his attention.

“What’s burning?”

It didn’t register at first, then he remembered the food was still in the oven. “Shit,” he muttered, letting her go to run back to the kitchen and save their dinner.

Y/n chuckled, kicking off her shoes and heading in to help him.

Joel’s attempt at a simple roast chicken and potatoes turned out slightly crispy, but good, all in all. They’d eaten it at the table, Joel’s hands stretched across the surface to hold Y/n’s.

After their meal, they retired to the living room. Joel turned on the stereo and fell onto the couch, Y/n laying her legs across his lap.

“Well, day one’s almost over,” she said, “How’re you feeling?”

Joel sighed, “She called earlier when they got there. Sounded real excited.”

“And you could not sound happier about it,” Y/n chortled, “Joel, she’s going to be fine.”

“I know that, it’s just,” Joel strroked his hand over Y/n’s calf, “It’s been me and her for…ever. When she’s off it just…”

Y/n watched her boyfriend with soft eyes, waiting for him to say more.

“I know she’s growin’ up, she’s always been independent, but,” he paused staring down at his hands, “It gets easier and easier for her every year to get on that bus. Makes me think about the day she’ll leave for good.”

“You know that no matter where she goes,” Y/n offered, “She’s always coming back here. She loves you too much.”

Joel gently smiled, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s leg. She always knew the right thing to say.

“And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she kinda loves me too,” Y/n smirked.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot to work with there,” Joel winked.

Y/n giggled, her eyes drifting over Joel’s shoulder to the corner of the living room. An acoustic guitar sat propped up in a stand.

“Y’know, I still haven’t heard you play,” she said, nodding to the instrument.

For as much as he loved music, he still got a little bashful about his talent. “I sound like everyone else,” he replied.

“Yeah, nice try,” Y/n wasn’t so easily discouraged, “Play me something.”

Much like his daughter, there wasn’t a lot Joel could deny Y/n. If it was going to make her smile, he’d gladly do it. He lifted her legs off of him and went to retrieve the guitar.

“Does the audience have any requests?” Joel asked, settling back down beside her and fiddling with the tuning pegs.

Y/n tucked her legs into her chest, barely containing her grin, “Something sweet.”

Joel finished tuning the guitar and took his position. He hadn’t played for anyone other than Sarah in a very long time.

The first pluck of the strings relaxed them both, Joel settled into the piece quickly. Y/n watched his fingers dance up and down the string, a series of movements only he knew. It sounded like an old folk song, the kind that told the tale of doomed lovers torn apart by tragedy. She had enough musical knowledge to know it was in a minor key. Sweet, it was not, but it was brimming with passion, and the way Joel watched the strings so intensely only added to it. Y/n was taken aback by the simple beauty of him, pouring himself into the music.

When it was over, a few final notes slowing the tempo before stopping entirely, Joel looked over to Y/n, a whisper of a smile playing upon his lips. Their eyes connected, the ever present flame between them stretching the distance between their bodies. In that moment, Joel was thankful they were alone.

In the same set of seconds, Joel blindly set the guitar down to the side and Y/n surged forward, the two of them meeting in a heated kiss. Y/n held both of Joel’s cheeks in her hands while he maneuvered her on top of him, their lips never losing their connection. The sadness of the song had drawn them together, both needing to feel the fullness of each other’s devotion to counter the loss that the notes had grieved. That wasn’t them, they said with each touch, it could never be them.

—————————

September 28th, 2002. Austin, Texas.

Fall had hit Texas, as much as it could affect the south, anyway. Sarah and Y/n were in the backyard of the Milller home. Sarah had her first soccer game of the season that weekend and she wanted to get in some extra practice.

“Okay,” Y/n called from the goal, “Don’t go easy on me.”

“Yeah, right,” Sarah scoffed, she was never afraid to show the full force of her talent on the field. Faking Y/n out, she broke to the left before making a sudden right turn and shooting the ball through the goal.

“Yes,” she exclaimed, pulling her fists down in celebration.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Y/n smirked, coming up beside Sarah as she did a little victory dance, “Don’t get too cocky. Let’s work on your goalkeeping.”

Sarah grooved her way back to the goal, “Okay, but I’m kinda spectacular at that too.”

“Well, we certainly don’t need to work on your confidence,” Y/n remarked. Sarah had the same cockiness, reserved only for things she was truly great at, as her father.

Joel materialized then, coming through the back door and watching his girls from the deck. “How we lookin’?”

“Today, Taft Middle School,” Y/n replied, catching the ball with her heel as Sarah kicked it, “Tomorrow, FIFA.”

Joel smiled proudly, both at Sarah and Y/n. Most women would have kept distance between them and their partner’s child. Y/n had jumped in headfirst, determined to be there for Sarah as much as she wanted her. She was the feminine influence his daughter had been denied all her life.

“Alright,” Y/n announced, “Good?”

Sarah nodded, “Good.”

Joel saw an opportunity and couldn’t pass it up. He carefully made his way down the steps of the deck, sneaking through the grass and up behind Y/n just as she was about to make her shot. As she wound her leg back, Joel wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her into the air.

Y/n shrieked as she was swung around, “Joel!”

“Sarah, steal it,” he yelled, smiling as Y/n wriggled in his embrace.

Sarah surged forward, avoiding Y/n’s flailing legs as she fought against Joel, and snatched the ball. She moved through the grass effortlessly and landed a perfect kick into the net.

Laughing heartily, Joel finally released Y/n back to the ground. He shared a high-five with his daughter as she bounded back to them.

“You two are awful,” Y/n gave Joel a shove to his chest, her wide grin contradicting her words.

Joel hung an arm around his girlfriend’s neck, pressing a kiss to her temple. “C’mon,” he separated from Y/n and clapped his hands, “Two-on-one, girls vs. boys.”

“We’re gonna destroy you,” Sarah teased, coming to stand beside Y/n.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he quipped, standing in front of the goal.

The three of them stayed out until sunset, practicing plenty, but laughing more than anything.

—————————

December 25th, 2002. Austin, Texas.

The Millers didn’t do anything spectacular for Christmas. A church service on the 24th, a simple dinner on the 25th, and presents.

It had been decided that both Tommy and Y/n would spend the night, it would make waking up and opening gifts easier than waiting for them to drive over. Tommy had taken the collapsable cot, his body was still used to military accommodations, while Y/n had gone for the couch. Joel and her were still hesitant to spend nights together, sleeping over at the other’s only when Sarah was away at her own sleepovers. Christmas didn’t feel like the time to test any boundaries.

Just past midnight, Y/n was still wide awake, tossing and turning on the sofa. There was a light snowfall happening outside and she hoped if she watched the flakes flutter through the air long enough, she’d drift off to sleep. So far, she’d had no such luck.

She took stock of the living room in its entirety. A fresh pine tree sat in the corner, a modest stack of presents surrounding the trunk. Two stockings were hung on the walls, Sarah and Joel’s names stitched across each. The room still faintly smelled like the batch of cookies her and Sarah had baked earlier in the evening. Even in the dark and completely silent, the house felt warm.

Footsteps down the stairs drew Y/n’s attention away from the decorations. She expected to see Sarah tiptoeing in to sneak a peek at the presents. Instead, Joel’s broad shadow entered the room.

“Can’t sleep?” Y/n asked from the couch.

Joel shook his head, “Nope.”

Y/n gave a small nod, pretending like the silence wasn’t as full of asking as it was. Joel’s posture had purpose in it, he wasn’t leaving until he got what he came for.

He tipped his head back towards the stairs, his eyes never leaving Y/n’s. “C’mon,” he said, his voice raspy with near sleep.

Y/n smiled to herself, throwing off her blanket and crossing the room to take Joel’s hand. The two of them tiptoed back up the stairs, trying not to wake Sarah or Tommy. Y/n knew the walk to Joel’s bedroom like the back of her hand, navigating in the dark made no difference. She certainly didn’t need Joel’s hands on her hips to guide her, but she welcomed them anyway.

Once the door shut, their routine commenced. Joel went to his dresser, blindly reaching into one of his drawers and tossing Y/n one of his flannels. Y/n slipped it on over her t-shirt, the sleeves ending way past the tips of her fingers. They made their way to their dedicated sides of the bed, Joel closest to the door because he felt better being a wall of protection between Y/n and the world.

“We have to get up before Sarah,” Y/n reminded him.

“We’ve got a 50% chance of makin’ it down before her,” Joel said, his hands gliding around her body to pull her into him, “Christmas morning, she’s up at the crack of dawn.”

Y/n drew closer to Joel, resting one hand on his chest and the other gripping the back of his neck. Already, she could feel her body relaxing in a way the couch just couldn’t coax out of her.

All the tension Joel had been carrying in his spine went lax the moment Y/n’s fingers grazed his skin. He was finding it harder and harder to sleep without her.

“Thank you,” she said out of the blue.

“For what?” Joel asked.

Y/n’s fingers danced along the line between the ends of his hair and the base of his skull. “For letting me be a part of all this,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s heart swelled, he took one of her cheeks into his hand and let their lips drift towards one another. Six months in, and he wasn’t sure if he could fall any harder in love with Y/n. She wasn’t just his, she was theirs. She was a permanent fixture in their home, the house a little less bright when she was absent from it. She had become a confidante to Sarah, a best friend to Tommy and everything to Joel. How could he not want her in every part of their lives?

“‘M afraid you’re stuck with us, Rosebud,” Joel smiled after he pulled back, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone.

“No place I’d rather be,” Y/n returned his grin.

Pressing one final kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked Y/n against his chest, his chin resting atop her head. She let her hand drift around to his back, her fingers spreading across the expanse as she tried to hold as much of him as she could. They fell asleep within minutes, the gentle snowstorm outside creating beauty that would only enhance the magic of Christmas for the Miller family.

—————————

2023. Kansas City, Missouri.

“Eye on me! Eyes on me!”

Joel’s eyes slid to the other side of the room, to the man with the barrel of his gun pointed at Ellie. Her and Y/n both had their hands raised high.

“You don’t have to worry about what to say,” the young man said, “We don’t wanna hurt you. We wanna help you.”

Joel watched him, he was shifting his weight between both feet, no expert marksman was that nervous to threaten someone’s life. Joel felt significantly better about his chances.

“Okay.”

“Okay, um…” the young man paused, “I don’t know what the next step is with something like this, but if I lower my gun…we didn’t hurt you…so you don’t hurt us…right?”

Joel stared him down, “That’s right.”

“That’s a weird fuckin’ tone, man,” their enemy replied.

“That’s just the way he sounds,” Ellie interrupted, first looking to the stranger and then back to Joel, “He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he’s okay.”

Joel stared, nearly a hint of a smirk at his lips, “Everything is great.”

“Dude…” Ellie muttered.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Y/n intervened, looking to the man, “Now drop the fucking guns before I second guess myself.”

“That wasn’t any better,” Ellie exclaimed.

“Fuck! Okay, listened,” the stranger started, his voice practically trembling, “I’m gonna trust you.”

He then stopped to signal something to the child, Y/n recognized it as ASL. They communicated something none of them could understand.

“But if any of you guys try anything,” the man kept his gun aimed at Ellie, nodding to Joel and Y/n, “Yeah? Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ellie whispered, her heart was in her throat.

The child backed away from Joel and Y/n’s mattress, his aim still firmly locked onto them. Y/n was trying to get her heartbeat back down to a normal range.

“Can I sit up?” Joel asked, his voice was still on edge.

“Yeah,” the stranger conceded, “Slow. Get up slow.”

Joel obeyed, rising to a seated position without any rush. He raised his hands, the left one grazing Y/n’s injured right. Shockingly, the fleeting touch made her feel a little less nervous. If Joel was good for nothing else, at least he was a good fighter. They could get out of this easily, if necessary.

“Who are you?” Joel asked.

“My name’s Henry,” the now-named stranger answered, “That’s my brother, Sam. I’m the most wanted man in Kansas City. Although right now,” Henry finally lowered his gun, “My guess is you’re running a close second. Her too.”

Y/n and Joel looked to one another, that ambush was going to come back to bite them in the ass, one way or another.

“Henry,” Y/n spoke up, lowering her hands and laying them palm up in her lap, “We’re gonna need a lot more than that.”

The five of them ended up huddled around a lantern, snacking on their dwindling food supply and waiting for the rest of the story to unfold. Henry had made it clear that he had to get some food in his brother first. It had been Ellie’s idea to share what they had left.

“Where’d you get these?” Henry asked, chewing on a cracker.

“From Bill,” Ellie answered, “He’s dead.”

Y/n and Joel had been watching Sam, digging into what they’d shared with him as if he hadn’t eaten in days. There was a real possibility of it, or something along the lines. They both wordlessly handed what was left of their portions to the boy, who in return, signed something to his brother.

“He says ‘thank you,’” Henry relayed, “I’m guessing you don’t have much so, this means a lot.”

“How old is he?” Ellie asked.

The brothers talked amongst themselves, with Henry answering, “He’s eight.”

Ellie nodded, “Cool. I’m Ellie.”

“Y/n,” Y/n spoke up, wanting to try and make the child feel as comfortable as the circumstances would allow.

Henry spelled out the names for Sam, who responded with a sign that both Y/n and Ellie assumed meant ‘cool.’

Ellie smiled before smacking Joel on the knee and waiting for him to introduce himself.

“I’m Joel,” he swallowed his last bite, “Look, you ate, we didn’t kill each other, let’s call this a win-win and move on.”

Henry dusted off his hands, “Well, I’m betting that y’all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun’s up, I’ll show you one.”

Joel and Y/n thought it over separately before glancing over at one another. If Henry hadn’t killed them by now, he wouldn’t. He already knew their supply was low, the only reason he was sticking around was because he needed something from them.

“Okay,” Y/n answered for them, earning a quick turn and glare from Joel, “Sam can take our bed. As soon as morning hits, you show us the route.”

Henry scoffed, “Just like that you’re gonna trust us?”

“I know the eyes of a liar, Henry,” Y/n leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, “And you don’t have ‘em. You weren’t even going to kill us in the first place, and you certainly weren’t gonna make him do it.”

Joel was ready to jump in at any second, but Y/n spoke with such precision and intention, he couldn’t come up with any reason to stop her.

“So how about we get some sleep,” Y/n continued, “And tackle this tomorrow?”

Henry’s eyes focused in on Y/n, someone as calculated as she was was either the most honest person on the planet or so calcuating and conniving, they could deceive the worst of humanity.

“Okay,” he landed on trust, “First thing.”

Ellie and Sam settled onto their makeshift mattresses, while the adults sat against the walls of the apartment. Henry on one side, Joel and Y/n on the other.

“What happened to equals?” Joel asked, the edge to his words undercutting the softness of their volume.

“Would what you have said been any different?” Y/n countered, watching as Joel tried to come up with an answer that differed from hers, “Exactly.”

The two of them stayed close to one another, without actually touching. Y/n was still slightly rattled from waking up with Joel’s hand over hers.

“Although my fucking neck’s gonna be messed up all day,” Y/n mumbled, trying to find a comfortable position to rest her head against the wall.

While they trusted an already sleeping Henry enough not to kill them, instinct told both Y/n and Joel to not leave themselves in such a vulnerable positon again. Sleeping sitting up was the only option that would allow them a little bit of rest.

And Joel hated what he was about to offer.

“You can…” he pointed to his shoulder, “If you want.”

“I don’t want” Y/n quickly replied.

Joel sighed in exasperation, “Forget I offered.”

He crossed his arms and settled against the wall, shutting his eyes and shutting down his momentary lapse into generosity.

Y/n inhaled, trying to get over herself. She was getting way too much up close and personal time with Joel to feel comfortable. But it was either another dose or a hideous day of lingering discomfort without the blessing of Ibuprofen.

She awkwardly scooted closer to him until their thighs were touching, causing Joel to open one eye. He looked down at their parallel bodies and back to Y/n.

“Just don’t grab my hand,” she grumbled, laying her head down on his shoulder and praying that her stomach stayed unaffected.

Joel’s body stiffened as she rested on him, a quick shot of adrenaline running through his extremities. He wanted to pretend to be unmoved, unbothered by her touch, but it was impossible. He would never fully be without affection for the way she felt against him.

“Go ahead,” Y/n said, sensing his discomfort but mistaking it for simply physical.

Joel hesitated a few seconds before shaking himself out of his doubt and resting his head on top of Y/n’s.

When the weight of Joel’s skull fell on hers, Y/n’s natural instincts took over and she almost, almost, tucked into him more. It was by the grace of God that she caught herself before she did it. No matter how hard her mind loathed him, her body would have accepted him back in a heartbeat.

The two ex-lovers sat against the wall, still trying to convince themselves that they were miles apart.

—————————

Just as the night before, they woke up so much closer than intended.

Y/n had fully curled into Joel, snuggling into his chest at some point during their glorified nap. When she woke up to the rough scratch of his flannel agaisnt her cheek, drowsiness did not immediately remind her she was in the year 2023. In her sleep-adled state, it was winter of 2002.

When consciousness pulled her back to the land of the living, she lightly groaned. Why were their sleeping selves making everything so complicated?

Y/n rolled off of Joel, causing him to sharply inhale. He blinked a few times, rubbed a hand over his face and evaluated the room. Henry was still asleep, but Sam and Ellie were already awake and sitting on the edges of their beds.

Y/n was beside him, at least twelve inches of space between them.

“I do anything in my sleep?” Joel asked.

Y/n shook her head, sucking on her bottom lip, “Nope.”

Joel wasn’t buying it, “Then whydya got that look on your face?”

“I know why,” Ellie teased in a sing-song tone.

Y/n let out two loud claps, startling Henry awake, and got to her feet. “Rise and shine, time to work.”

Joel stayed on the ground, watching how fast she moved around the room. Something had happened and it had messed with her. He ran a hand over his right shoulder, noticing that it was warm when the rest of him felt cold. He peered back over at Y/n, rifling through her backpack to find Ellie and Sam breakfast. He watched how she crouched down and handed the kids what was assuredly the lion’s share of her rations. How she held up a questioning thumbs up to Sam, who in return, smiled and copied the gesture. How she cared. She still cared so much.

It was killing him.

But there were bigger things to worry about than the stirring in his heart for the woman who perhaps, hadn’t changed that much at all.

————————————

Once fed and watered, the group of five headed a few floors up to the apartment building’s conference room. Henry had promised it had the best view of the city.

“Welcome to Killa City,” he announced, showcasing the place in daylight through the massive windows.

“No FEDRA,” Joel observed.

“Not as of ten days ago, no,” Henry replied.

“We always heard KC FEDRA was-“

“Monsters? Savages?” Henry finished for Joel, “Yeah, you heard right. Raped and tortured and murdered people for twenty years.”

Y/n looked down at her shoes, “Fucking hell.” It was stories like Kansas City that were one of her reasons for joining the Fireflies.

“And you know what happens when you do that to people?” Henry continued, “The moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you.”

“But you’re not FEDRA,” Joel stated.

Henry paused before answering, “No…worse. I’m a collaborator.”

Joel shook his head, “I don’t work with rats.”

Y/n wasn’t so quick to walk away, Henry had too much of a heart it seemed to be a true collaborator. He had a story.

“Yeah, you fucking do,” Henry said, “Today you do, ‘cause I live here and you two don’t. That’s how I followed you here. I know this city and I’m gonna help you out.”

Joel watched Henry as he spoke, trying to see through him, “Why help us?”

“I saw what you two did,” Henry answered, “The way you killed those men. Now I know where to go, but I don’t know how to make it through alone, not if it’s just Sam and me.”

“You seem capable enough,” Joel replied, “You’re armed.”

“You’re wrong and wrong,” Henry said, “Never killed anyone. And pointing an unloaded gun at you was the closest I’ve ever come to being violent.”

Y/n nodded, no one let their hand shake that much when holding a loaded gun.

“So that’s the deal,” Henry stated, “I show you the way, you clear the way.”

Joel didn’t need anyone else slowing them down or making them more noticeable. And partnering with Henry would only make them bigger targets.

At the table behind them, Ellie and Sam were seated, reading from Ellie’s pun book. The energy was divided down the room; the grown-up side was deathy heavy while the kid’s side was warm and uplifting.

“Haven’t heard that in a long time,” Henry smiled, watching his little brother laugh.

Joel turned back to the window as he tried to put distance between him and the moment. Y/n glanced over at him, watching as the cogs in his mind turned. Her mind was already made up, it would have been wonderful if they could avoid an argument.

“So how’re we getting out?” Joel relented, turning to Henry.

Henry fetched a piece of paper from one of the drawers, office supplies had never been in high demand post-pandemic. He sketched out a square, writing down the names of the roads that cut through the city.

“Highways…” he pointed to one section, “Downtown,” then to the other, “Us. This whole area belongs to Kathleen.”

“And she is…?” Y/n asked, standing between Joel and Henry.

“Leader of the resistance,” Henry answered, “You can see the way we’re bounded by highways. They got people posted all around the inside perimeter. If we get close, we get caught. No question.”

“So how do we get across?” Ellie asked.

Henry banged a fist against the table to get Sam’s attention, signing something to him after. Sam went to drawing on his magnetic erase pad, Joel wasn’t made to feel any better about a kid being involved in the planning of their escape.

Sam held up his pad, having written the word ‘Tunnels’ on it.

Henry snapped his fingers, “Boom.”

“Kansas City has a subway?” Joel asked.

“No,” Henry answered, “But they do have maintenance tunnels. There’s a bunch of buildings all put up by the same developers. And they share these tunnels, including…” he pointed down to a specific section of his sketch, “A bank building here,” he began to draw their route, “So we enter the tunnels here, travel underground, and pop up here. Westside North. Residential. There’s an embankment on the other side of the houses. We head down, pedestrian bridge over the river,” Henry dropped his pencil, “Free as a bird.”

“You’re right,” Joel admitted, “It’s a great plan. So what do you need us for?”

Henry hesitated a moment, “You notice anything strange about this city? I mean, other than the strange shit you’ve already seen?”

“No Infected?” Ellie guessed before Y/n and Joel could.

“Oh, there’s Infected,” Henry replied, “Just not on the surface. FEDRA drove them underground fifteen years ago, and never let them come back up. It’s the only good thing those fascist motherfuckers ever did.’

Joel looked between Y/n and Ellie, “So you want us goin’ into a tunnel?”

“Everyone thinks that it’s full of Infected,” Henry quickly corrected, he sensed Joel’s doubt, “Including Kathleen, which means that we’re not gonna be running into any of her people. But you see, what I know is…it’s empty.”

“You know this?” Y/n questioned, “You’ve seen it? With your own eyes?”

“No,” Henry replied.

Joel took a deep breath, hands on his hips again. Y/n sighed and rested her elbows on the table. Henry was losing them both.

“But the FEDRA guy that I worked with told me that it’s clean,” the young man continued, “Completely clean. They cleared it out. All of it.”

“How long ago?” Y/n asked, shutting her eyes as if it could shut out their problems.

“Like,” Henry shrugged, “Three years ago.”

Joel scoffed, glancing to Ellie as if asking if she was believing this either.

“Okay, maybe there’s one or two,” Henry quickly said, “But you can handle it.”

“You’re making this sound a whole lot simpler than it is,” Y/n responded, looking to Joel, whose eyes were already expectantly waiting on her. “We need a minute.

Y/n pushed open the glass doors, bringing them outside the conference room and giving them a sliver of privacy.

Joel pointed a finger behind them, “You still feel good about this?”

“Not exceptionally, no,” she answered truthfully, “But we don’t exactly have a lot of other options, now do we?”

“If this guy’s gonna endanger our lives more than if we were on our own,” Joel argued, “Then we’re better off-“

“Fighting our way through a city we’ve never been in with targets the size of Texas on our backs?” Y/n finished for him, “Look, I don’t wanna go down there either. But we’re guaranteed a very slow, very painful death if we go it alone. I’d rather have allies and stand a chance, at least.”

Joel wanted to fight tooth and nail, but he knew she was right. She’d always had a talent for being right.

“Plus, it’ll give you plenty to lord over Tommy’s head when we get to Wyoming,” Y/n quipped, her mouth still frowned but her eyes were lit up with humor.

Joel huffed, he’d have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. The thought of seeing his brother and his ex together again was a sight he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to see.

Without another word, and a silent concession from Joel, the two of them marched back into the conference room where the debate was still being held.

Henry pointed to Ellie, “She says y’all fought off two Clickers. Is that true?”

Joel and Y/n uncomfortably shifted, the dread sweeping over them.

“And you’re still alive,” Henry stated, “You see? You’re the right people. If it gets bad down there, we turn around, and run right back out the same way we came.”

Joel was about one poorly constructed sentence away from giving the whole idea up, “Oh, that’s your great plan?”

“No, that’s my dicey-as-fuck plan,” Henry fired back, “But as far as I can tell, it’s our only shot.”

Sam signed something to Henry.

“They’re saying,” Henry narrated as he signed back, “They’re going to help us escape,” he turned back to the party, “Right?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “That was a low fuckin’ blow, man.”

Henry didn’t seem bothered at all by the manipulation.

Joel’s jaw twitched as he thought it all over. Y/n could practically feel his unease. She craned her neck back, muttering more into his body than at him, “Lesser of two evils.”

With every fiber of his being, Joel wanted to fight. But instead, he let his hands fall against his legs, admitting defeat.

—————————

The team got across the city with minimal close calls, every once in a while there’d be a truck or patrol group to avoid. They got to the bank building intact and only slightly out of breath.

“We need to get outta sight,” Joel said, every entrance/exit of the place was structured in a glass wall.

“Uh, I-I-I think it’s this way,” Henry pointed towards one of the halls, the rest of them following.

They trailed through the building till they hit a back door, hopefully leading to the tunnel entrance. Joel and Y/n entered it cautiously with their guns drawn.

“This should be it,” Henry announced, “You ready?”

Joel looked to Ellie, “Get your gun out.”

Rebelling in her own small way, once again, Ellie pulled out the gun from her jacket pocket. At this point, Joel wasn’t surprised in the least that she wasn’t heeding his advice. Him and Y/n marched forward regardless and took the lead. They entered through another door, delivering them into the tunnel system.

“You see?” Henry proved, “It’s empty. The plan is good.”

Joel and Y/n quickly shushed him. “‘The plan is good?’” Joel repeated, “We’ve been down here two seconds. We don’t know anything.”

Henry looked to Ellie, “Your dad’s kind of a pessimist.”

“I’m not her dad.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“He’s not her dad.”

Joel, Y/n and Ellie’s protests overlapped.

“Just point your light forward,” Joel instructed, tightly gripping his own, “And be ready to run.”

Y/n steadied her breathing and began to move beside Joel down the underground maze.

They walked for around an hour, snaking down the sets of tunnels, holding their flashlights and handguns as if they were life itself. Eventually, they turned down a hall with child’s art painted all along it. The door was even painted as castle. All of them examined the walls in quiet confusion.

Sam bounded forward, wanting to go through and explore. Joel threw his hand out to stop him, “No.”

Y/n tucked her flashlight under her chin and gripped her pistol, sharing an affirmative nod with Joel that they were ready. He slowly turned the doorknob and it creaked open, revealing a room that looked…civilized.

The whole place looked like a daycare center. There were toys scattered throughout storage bins, art and books against the walls, small cups, and a faded soccer goal painted across one of the cinderblock walls.

“I heard about places this this,” Joel commented, taking stock of their surroundings, “People went underground after Outbreak Day. Built settlements.”

“What happened to them?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe they didn’t follow the rules and all got infected,” Joel replied.

While Ellie and Sam sat down, playing with a few of the toys, Y/n, Henry and Joel scanned the room. Whoever had been living there, they’d been gone long enough for a layer of dust to settle across everything.

“Hey,” Joel called to Ellie who was being a little too loud, “Keep it down. We’re not out yet.”

“Ah, c’mon,” Ellie groaned, “Can we just rest here for a while? There’s, like, actually shit to do here.”

“Wouldn’t be so bad to wait the light out a bit,” Henry agreed, “Safer in the shadows when we pop back out on the other side.”

Joining Ellie and Henry, Y/n tilted her head in a slight shrug to Joel. It was a smart decision and he was just going to have to get over himself.

Joel shrugged back to the group, raising an eyebrow and going back to checking out the room.

Ellie and Sam occupied themselves by reading comic books and messing around with some of the toys. Henry, Joel and Y/n rested at a table, putting their feet up without actually relaxing at all. At some point, Ellie and Sam switched to kicking a soccer ball around on the makeshift field. Y/n watched carefully as Ellie interacted with the boy, she was so caring and patient. She’d confided that she didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but the glow coming from her radiated big sister energy.

Y/n scooted her chair back and walked across the room. “Can I join?”

Ellie enthusiastically began to switch the ball between her feet, trying to fake Y/n out. Y/n rotated to stand alongside Sam at the goal.

“That’s not fair,” Ellie argued, “There’s two of you.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you can’t do it,” Y/n teased.

Ellie’s determination set in, jumping slightly in place before kicking the ball in between Sam and Y/n’s legs quicker than they could stop it.

“Oh, shit,” she exclaimed, shooting her hands into the air.

Sam and Y/n shared a laugh before Y/n got down on her knees, “Can you teach me something?”

Sam watched her lips and nodded, showing her a sign. To her, it looked like he was pulling something out of his mouth, before bringing his two thumbs up and splitting their directions at his chest.

Y/n mimicked it, “What does this mean?”

“Oh, that’s from Savage Starlight,” Ellie exclaimed, copying the gesture with them, “‘Endure and survive.’”

The three of them continued to sign it over and over. It seemed to make both Ellie and Sam extremely happy, which meant Y/n would do it as many times as they wanted.

Joel and Henry watched from their seats. To say Joel’s heart ached would have been an understatement. His soul was barely holding together, a new piece of it dying off every day. But Y/n and Ellie had somehow kept the last few from withering. It was so subtle, he hadn’t even figured the phenomenon out yet. He was barely self-aware. But seeing Y/n, crouched down on the floor with the kids, still with the innate need to make the world around her better, he came to fully realize his thought from earlier in the day.

She was still his Y/n.

Smiling, laughing, loving, caring, kinder than the world deserved. Underneath all the anger was the woman he had loved with all his heart.

And that fucking terrified him.

As Y/n made her way back to them, Joel pulled himself back to reality, switching gears and channeling his energy into focusing on the kids. Specifically Sam. He was eight years old and in survival mode. No child deserved that. It was making him rethink his stance on the things he’d said earlier.

“If you were collaboratin’ to take care of him,” he said to Henry, “I…I shouldn’t have save what I said. I don’t know your situation. And I’m not sayin’ they should let it go, but all things considered, seems kinda cruel—to send a whole army after you for that.”

Henry waited a few seconds, Ellie’s cheers filling the silence, before speaking. “You know, I wasn’t, uh…exactly telling you the truth before…about me not killing someone.”

Y/n and Joel’s attention turned to him exclusively.

“There was a man,” Henry began, “A great man. You know, he was never afraid…never selfish…and he was always forgiving. Have you ever met someone like that? Kinda man you’d follow anywhere.”

Y/n tensed up, forbidding her eyes from flicking to Joel.

“I mean, I wanted to. Well…I would’ve,” Henry gathered strength for the rest of his story, “Yeah, but, uh…Sam, he, uh, he got sick. Leukemia,” he scanned Joel and Y/n’s somber expressions, “Yeah, anyway, um…there was one drug that worked and, whoa, big shock…there wasn’t much left of it, and it belonged to FEDRA. And if I wanted some, it was gonna take something big. So I gave them something big. That one great man. The leader of the resistance movement in Kansas City. And Kathleen’s brother.”

Understanding washed over Joel and Y/n. All the firepower, the tanks, the trucks, it all made sense.

“Yeah, so, you still think they should take it easy on me?” Henry asked rhetorically, “Or am I the bad guy?”

Y/n stayed silent, weighing morals against necessity. Joel pulled his lips down, barely shaking his head before Henry cut off what he would have said, “I don’t know what you’re waitin’ on, man. The answer’s easy. I am the bad guy because I did a bad guy thing.”

“But you did it to keep him alive,” Y/n spoke up, “You’d go to the ends of the earth for him. That’s not evil, that’s family.”

Henry’s eyes cut through the space between Joel and Y/n, “You two get it,” he nodded toward Joel, ”You may not be her father, but you were someone’s. See, I could tell.”

There it was. The big, dreadful, terrible thing that Joel and Y/n had gotten this far without talking about. It was the unspoken wound, the one deep enough to kill yet shallow enough that it didn’t show. It was a constant phantom pain in both their chests and it broke them all over again to have it brought up.

“You too,” Henry smiled at Y/n, nodding to Ellie, “That is, if she’s not yours.”

Y/n didn’t think the blade could slide any deeper into her heart. She had been something to someone once, and it was as much a part of her still as the air she breathed.

“Uh,” Y/n tearily began, clearing her throat quickly, “No, she’s not mine.”

Joel had had more than he could handle just by Henry’s assumption about him. Referring to Y/n as the word he couldn’t bring himself to utter in that context had sent him over the edge. He picked up his gun from the table and practically jumped to his feet, “We’ve waited long enough.”

Y/n stayed still at the table, holding back her tears took so much strength, it was stealing her ability to move. If she allowed herself to cry in front of Joel, she didn’t think she’d ever recover.

Henry didn’t ask questions, he didn’t bring up the very visible sorrow etched across Y/n’s face. Some hurt was palpable without ever being touched on, and it was painfully clear that Joel hadn’t been the only one to lose a child…

————

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artemisthewh0re · 1 year

Text

Sweetheart

Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Chubby Black Reader

Warnings: interrupted sex, morning sex, oral (fem receiving), age gap (reader is mid-20s and Joel is 36), fluff, Joel is a gentle and giving man

A/N: Sorry it took so long to finish depression has been beating my ass. The fluff is dedicated to @rocketrhap3000

Sunlight shines through your sheer curtains, illuminating dust particles in the air. The morning sun was one of the only reasons you hated staying at Joel's. He refused to get curtains that actually kept light out. You had thick, black drapes that could block out sun even in the middle of the day in your apartment. Joel found your hatred for the sun hilarious much to your annoyance, affectionately calling you a hermit every time you whined about it.

Joel grunts as he turns over to face you. His dark eyes slowly open, a groggy smile on his face.

"Mornin' sweetheart," his voice is husky with sleep. Joel pushes a few locs from your face to give you a kiss on the cheek. You only groan in response. "Stop whinin' you hermit," Joel laughs. You cuddle up closer to him, pressing your face against his bare chest. Joel's fingers rake through your hair while his other hand rubs your back. You almost fall back asleep, Joel's heart beat lulling you into a peaceful void. Instead you're reawakened by your boyfriend rubbing your arm and pushing you to get up.

"No it's too early to get up," you moan, pulling a pillow over your face. Joel nudges you more with his nose.

"Come on, I'll make you breakfast."

"I'd rather die than eat your or Sarah's cooking," you joke. Your body starts to wake up more from Joel's annoying pushing. You remove the pillow from your face and smack Joel with it.

"Hey don't talk bad about my daughter! She's only poisoned you twice," he says in a sarcastic voice, dodging the pillow. "Get up."

Joel peppers kisses anywhere he could find, your forehead, your arm, your chest. He gives a kiss to each stretch mark he finds on the way. Even though Joel tries his best to rouse you, you decide to stay in bed a little longer and enjoy the attention.

"What time is it?" You ask, your fingers lace through his brown hair. Your boyfriend looks over to the bedside clock to check the time.

"7:32," he replies before going back to his kisses. Two hours before Sarah gets up. Joel makes his way down to your stomach and thighs. Your stomach tenses and your breath a little as he rubs your love handles. Butterflies spread through your body when he finally gets to your pelvis. Joel's chest rumbles in a hum, his mouth sucking hickies into your legs. The vibrations send tingles to your core. It takes everything in you not to force his mouth on your still clothed pussy. Joel senses your frustration and takes extra time to graze your inner thigh with his thumb, inching closer to your warmth.

"Don't be a tease," you sigh. A desperate aching permeates from deep within you. Your cunt clenches around phantom fingers, begging to be stimulated. His eyes meet yours when he tugs off your SpongeBob shorts. Your underwear is a testament to Joel's abilities to get you going. A damp patch sits between your legs, slowly growing with every second of teasing.

"I guess you're finally awake," Joel mocks, pulling your underwear off. A calloused finger rubs through your folds. An almost pornographic moan escapes your mouth from the sudden attention. You clasp your mouth shut with a hand to not wake Sarah. Heat builds in your body, making beads of sweat start to form on your forehead as he slips two fingers inside you. Joel’s fingers work you like clay, molding your flesh with ease. Your thighs start to shake in pleasure when Joel adds a third finger inside you. Your own hands wander underneath your oversized night shirt to play with your hardened nipples.

“Jesus Christ, Joel! That feels so fucking good, don’t stop!” Joel’s tongue licks at your clit timidly. His darkened eyes meet yours as he lowers his mouth to your pussy. You’re practically hypnotized by their darkness, almost like they’re completely black instead of the dark brown you’re used to. Joel hums in response to your plea, his mouth now acting as an organic vibrator.

Your eyes roll towards the ceiling as you try your best to silence every noise coming from your mouth. Labored breathing fills the room along with the sound of Joel’s fingers slamming into your wet pussy. Saliva drips down the side of your agape mouth as the coil that has been building in your belly tightens in preparation for your orgasm. Joel’s mouth sucks harshly on your clit, low moans escape his chest. Both of you are so wrapped up in the moment that the groggy footsteps of your step-daughter go unheard.

As your back arches in ecstasy a loud knock comes from your bedroom door.

“Dad? Are you up yet? I’m gonna make breakfast, what do you want?” The door knob turns and the door opens slightly before you can cover up.

“No!” you and Joel yell in unison. Joel attempts to hide underneath the covers, but Sarah sees it all.

“Ew, oh my god!” Sarah shrieks before slamming the door, her footsteps speed down the stairs. Joel’s face turns ruby red in embarrassment and horror as he quickly removes the covers and runs after her. You lay in the bed too afraid to look Sarah in the eyes ever again. If I get up now I’ll be able to change my identity and run to Mexico. A muffled thud comes from down stairs.

“Uncle Tommy, you'll never guess what I just saw!” Sarah yells, her voice becomes subdued before she can finish talking.

“Nothin’, she saw nothin’,” Joel quickly interrupts. You can only imagine Tommy’s confused face, it almost makes you laugh. More shuffling comes from the bottom floor and you decide to put your shorts back on and head down. The silence between Joel and Sarah is almost suffocating and you’re not the only one who feels it.

“What is wrong with them today?” Tommy asks with a mouth full of leftovers.

“I have no clue.”

Taglist: @hatterripper31 @aiyaaayei

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joelswritingmistress · 4 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 12

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“You really need to let me teach you how to swim,” Dr. Miller said upon guiding me back and forth several times across the pool until we waded side by side in the shallow end. “You never know when you might be in a situation when you'll need to.”

I nodded and teased, “How much for lessons?”

“I don't accept cash, or credit or debit.” A smile took over his face and he slicked his wet hair back with his hands.

“Well, there's got to be something.” I tried my best to be flirty, though it wasn't something that came natural to me in the way it did for my older, male counterpart.

Dr. Miller glanced over his shoulder toward the sauna. “Actually, there is.”

I followed his gaze and let him pull me by the hand toward the staircase that led out of the pool. Goosebumps decorated my shoulders and then traveled the length of my back as the air welcomed us back onto the tiled floor.

Dr. Miller strutted like a Greek God, and I engrained every little detail of his wet, naked body in my mind. With that thought, I knew I was putting him far too high on a pedestal, but I couldn’t help it. I knew I was becoming obsessed and I couldn’t reel it in.

He glanced over when he sensed me looking at him and I tried to look away. The smirk on his face gave away that I hadn’t done so swiftly enough. Dr. Miller continued to pull me by the hand until we reached the sauna. He reached for the handle and gently opened the pale, wooden door before extending an arm in to allow me inside a step ahead of him.

The heat, like the few times I’d been in a sauna at the gym, hit me like a wave; though after a swim it was a perfect contrast to my cool, damp skin. Not to mention, it felt extra good in the middle of winter. There was a bench straight ahead with a second row perched above it. The lighting was so dim I had to squint to make it out.

Dr. Miller edged past me and sat down on the bottom bench and stretched his arms across the upper part. Even in the darkness I could tell he was staring intently at me. My eyes seemed to adjust to the darkness faster than average, as if to access the object of my growing affection. Just looking at him sitting there was masturbation material - not that I did that that often. Dr. Miller’s bare feet were parted wide on the floor, and the way his legs were spread made his hard dick the focal point of his cut, saturated body.

He didn’t have to ask me to ‘come here’. I was like a moth to a flame, greeting him with a passionate kiss as my knee pressed into the bench between his legs. My hands caught his face and the force of my embrace forced him to lean back just slightly.

Dr. Miller adjusted my legs, putting my knees on the outsides of his hips on the bench. He moved me with such ease, like a clay mold that was his to play with. I felt him pressing at my entrance and his hips pushed upward. I met him halfway and lowered my body down, taking him all in. He let out a groan and his head dropped back with his arms still outstretched to either side.

I held onto his shoulders the same way I had in the pool, feeling the dampness leftover from the water as my hands slid against him each time I threw my hips forward. Breathing wasn’t easy. It was dry and hot, turning the leftover pool droplets into sweat that coated our bodies.

“My God..” He whispered the words and I hugged my body against his, grasping the back of his head and grabbing a fistful of wet hair as his face aligned with my breasts.

Dr. Miller took a nipple between his teeth before sucking the area to soothe the sensitive skin. Watching him latched on and in the moment with his eyes closed sent an electric current down my body. I moaned aloud and felt his hands finally blanket around me, holding me tight as I rocked on top of him.

“Let it out,” he whispered in my ear as his teeth gripped my earlobe now, before trailing the length of my neck and back up.

“Fuck,” I mewled his name like a kitten in heat on a tiger, “Joel.”

He grunted and my eyes practically rolled back in my head when he thrusted hard up into me. “Call me Dr. Miller,” he begged, grabbing my face roughly before kissing me even rougher. He moaned and grunted, holding my sweaty body tighter against his.

That did something to me. His demand to call him Dr. Miller. Fuck, that felt right. It made every facet of my body feel hot.

Our lips parted with a loud smacking sound. “Dr. Miller,” I choked out, feeling one of his hands squeeze my hip, leaving a sting beneath his fingertips.

“Mmm..” Our lips grazed against one another’s, colliding each time I rose and fell as I rode him. Dr. Miller gripped me hard around the back of my neck and pressed his forehead against mine. He breathed heavily, moving his other hand to my left side of my ass.

The heat from the sauna added to my arousal. I was wet head to toe. Dr. Miller was wet head to toe. It was getting hard to breathe, I felt like I was spinning and high.

“Dr. Miller..” I moaned his name again, allowing him to clutch me tighter, harder. He pushed up into me, moaning my name right back until he sounded as desperate as I did. “Fuuuck.”

“Cum,” he urged, groaning as I moved faster on top of him. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

Oh.. my.. God..

“Fuck..” I clawed at his back and gripped his hair, feeling an eruption of pleasure in my lower half as my thighs shook and tightened against him. I cursed again and my body trembled as my orgasm paralyzed every single part of me.

I felt him finish at the same time. It was primal, erratic and rough. Dr. Miller held me so hard I thought I might break. But it added to the waves of pleasure that left my womanhood in a sea of contractions that pulsed against him as he continued to thrust up into me from below.

He didn’t let go as he panted for a deep breath that never came. His hands slid down my sweaty back. I closed my eyes as Dr. Miller’s limp lips attempted to kiss against my collar bone. My head fell back as I glanced up weerily at the ceiling.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” Dr. Miller whispered. He bit my neck and pulled me back to him, guiding my lips to his for another sloppy, drawn out kiss. I felt drunk. Love drunk.

“I never want to leave here,” I whispered back, aching for another kiss.

“Mmm..” He slid a hand up and down my back and continued to pepper everywhere he could reach with kisses and little nips of his teeth. “We should get out of here.” Dr. Miller pecked my lips again and I felt my hair stick to my forehead as he tried to brush it back, “You need water.”

“You need water,” I said with an attempt at a chuckle.

“I need water,” he agreed. Without warning he pulled me back in for another kiss. It was heated and needy and left us both even more breathless.

“Do I have to get off you?” I managed a little smile, studying his sweaty features as I began to slick back his already slicked hair.

Dr. MIller smiled wickedly, but his voice was still desperate. “Let me get you hydrated.. and then you can ride my dick in every room of this house if you want to.”

I breathed heavily and could see my chest heaving up and down. My eyes closed when Dr. Miller tended to the center of my breasts again. Despite just having an orgasm that I hadn’t quite recovered from, I still wanted him.

My little moan must've snapped him back to reality because he stopped and lazily looked up at me from where he sat. Dr. Miller pecked my lips now and rose to his feet, picking me up as he stood. At the same time I felt his dick leave my body and I swallowed hard.

“How many rooms are there in this house?” I half-joked, longing to be reconnected to him. The obsession was real, and I was beginning to see how two-sided it was.

“Enough to tackle over the course of a weekend.” Dr. Miller shoved the door open and pulled me with him. I could breathe again. The fresh air felt cold in comparison to the thick, dry air of the sauna. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to him.

“Holy shit.”

“I know,” he said, “It’s intense in there.” Dr. Miller eyed the pool as we began to walk together, “You really need to let me teach you to swim over the next few weeks,” he demanded, “Or months.” Our eyes locked and I nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it.” He could tell I was being casual and there was a part of him, even if it was a small part, that was annoyed by how nonchalant my response was. I just didn’t see as much importance to it like Dr. Miller did.

“I want to,” I told him honestly. The thought of being in the pool, face-to-face with him again sounded amazing, to say the least.

“Okay.” Dr. Miller touched my face and I kissed him on the lips. “Now, can I get you some water?”

I laughed lightly, “Yes.”

“Stairs or elevator?”

I thought about the moment in the pool. How my life was in his hands. How he took care of me. I engrained every single millisecond of our intimate encounter in the sauna. There was no way I wasn’t trusting this man - not to mention I knew that meant that I would have the ride up to the main floor with my body pressed up against his for a few extra seconds.

I smiled wide. “Elevator.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 7 months

Text

The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 month

Text

✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Ch 4: Come What May✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Another long, soft chapter of Joel and reader being in love 🥰 Me and @mountainsandmayhem have been having so much fun with this series!

Chapter Summary: After your uncle finds out about Joel, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 9.7k

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapter Tags: Brief angst, lots of fluff, lots of smut, use of vibrator, oral receiving (fem), handcuffs, flirting, Joel and reader being in love, Joel and reader go on date

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You wake up to the sounds of cheerful birds chirping their good mornings to each other. You left the balcony door open last night, and the cool morning air of fall rustles in through the sheer pink curtains. The sun sends bursts of light across the room as shadows splay around the intricate walls.

Peeling your eyes open, you see Joel is still fast asleep beside you. The orange glow of the morning sun alighting him in a golden warmth. He’s so handsome, so beautiful as his chest rises and falls slowly in waves, his tousled curls falling delicately over his forehead.

I love you, you say in your head before placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, his voice deep and coated thick with sleep. Without opening his eyes he pulls you into his broad chest, and you melt effortlessly into his warmth.

“Morning, handsome,” you smile into the crook of his neck as his hands trail up and down your back slowly.

“So, I was thinkin’. Maybe this afternoon you could meet me at my apartment? I could show you around my place, and if you’re up for it, you could show me how to use that pottery wheel over there?” He nods to the wooden pottery wheel that sits in the corner of the room and looks back at you with a gleam in his brown eyes.

“Oh, you want to learn some pottery skills? What peaked your interest?” you ask, fluttering your sleep coated eyelashes up at him as he gently caresses your cheek.

“You did, darlin’,” he smirks, face so handsome in the glow of the morning yellow sun as his brown irises look at you affectionately.

God, you love this man so much.

He leans down and kisses you softly, his plush lips melding into yours as you wrap your fingers around his messy curls. You slot your lips open and let him taste you, relish in you as you get lost in the slow, romantic kiss. He tastes like a piece of something you want to keep forever. When he breaks the kiss, you groan and open your eyes back up to his flawless face.

He’s so pretty.

“Well, if you want to learn then we need to pick up a few things at the store. I need some more clay. So, how about I meet you at your place in say a couple hours? Then we can pick up some supplies and come back here. How does that sound, handsome?” you smirk as you trail your fingers along his patchy scruff, the hair soft and coarse under your fingertips.

“Sounds perfect, darlin’.”

He stares at you for a few more seconds, sunlight flashing through his golden eyes, then he gets up and buttons his flannel up and slips his leather boots on. You internally groan as you see him start to leave. You don’t want him to leave, you don’t ever want him to leave.

Before he walks out the door, he rushes over to you and leaves you one more long lasting kiss on your lips. A kiss that burns through your entire body. Gentle, soft, hungry.

“See ya soon, darlin’. Bye, beautiful.”

He exits your room and right as you hear the door close, you lean back into your pillow and let out a long sigh. You’re so in love. Joel Miller is the love of your life. The only one for you.

Joel walks down the dim lit hallway with a huge smile on his face as he shoves one hand deep in his pocket, the other shaking out his ruffled curls. He loves you so fucking much. He can’t wait to see you again.

Just as he slides down the winding staircase, he misses something that lurks in the shadows. Something that could end his time here at the Moulin Rouge. That something is Edward, your uncle. The one that warned him never to touch the dancers. But he did, he did.

There’s only one condition, don’t touch my dancers.

Edward’s eyes glare at Joel, a deep anger burning through the course of his body as he snarls and clenches his fists together. Edward warned Joel, but he didn’t listen. He didn’t fucking listen. Edward fumes down the hallway, all teeth and grit as he slams on your bedroom door. He’ll make Joel pay.

You hear three large pounds on your bedroom door that make you jolt out of bed and throw your fluffy pink robe on. “Petal, open this fucking door!” your uncle yells as you run to the door in a hurry and open it up.

His face is fiery red, eyes narrowing as he walks in and slams the door shut with a bang. He paces around the quaint living quarters and stomps his elegant shiny shoes on the wooden floors. He looks at your unmade mess of a bed and scowls as you hear him curse under his breath.

Oh no. Joel.

He slowly turns back to you and clicks his tongue in a deceitful manner. You wipe sweat off your forehead as you gulp, waiting for the yelling to start. Just as you clasp your hands behind your back, he starts the yelling. “Joel was in here with you last night? In your bed!”

You wince as the accusations echo off the pink walls of your room and you shake your head no. “No, he wasn’t,” you lie, hoping he’ll take the bait.

“I saw him creeping out of your room this morning!” His words are hot, scathing, pulsing through your body as you feel your heart snap in half as your eyes go wide.

He knows.

“He uhh… he…” You don’t know what to say, what you can do to make the situation better. But you don’t want him to be fired. He can’t be fired. You can’t be the reason he loses a source of income. You just can’t.

“I warned him, petal. I told him to never touch the dancers. And look what he did. He touched the most sought after Diamond!” he yells, eyes bloodshot as he lets the anger feed his rage.

You panic and try to make it better. You have to make it better. “Please, uncle! I’m the one who pursued him. Don’t blame Joel. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I’m the one that asked him to stay last night. It was all me,” you say desperately, eyes as wide as the sun as you clamp down on your teeth and fight back a tear that licks the back of your eye.

He looks at you scornfully and crosses his arms over his chest as he furrows his thick eyebrows together. “I don’t care if you’re the one that pursued him, Joel could’ve said no. But obviously that was too hard to do, so allow me to take matters into my own hands,” he growls as he walks toward you and tries to push past your shoulder. You step in front of him and try to push him back.

“No! You can’t fire him, I won’t let you!” you scream, tears burning your eyes as you see him drop his mouth open and stare at you with gasping eyes.

He shakes his head sadly as his slicked back blonde hair holds in place. “I’m sorry, petal. I have to do this.” He tries to brush past you again, but you step in front of the door, not allowing him to pass until he listens to you. “Move, petal,” he demands, eyes burning through your skull.

“No,” you say with narrowed eyes. “If you fire him, I will walk out of this place and never turn back. I won’t see Terrance ever again, and your precious Moulin Rouge will close down for good.”

His jaw drops and his pupils expand as he gulps down a large breath of thick air. “Petal, just think this through,” he begs.

You cut him off and continue on with your demands. “No! I’ve thought this through long enough. It’s time to take back what I want, not what you want. I’ve done enough for you in this club. I’ve danced for those disgusting men for long enough. I’m done, uncle. Finished. You won’t find me up on that stage again.”

“But, petal! Those men come for you! You’re the star of this place. Do you know what that’ll do to business if you don’t dance?” he asks with sweaty palms, sweat pooling on the edge of his forehead as it glistens brightly by the blinding sun.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” you scoff. “You sold me to Terrance, so you made your bed. I don’t owe you anything anymore. I’ll continue to see him, for now. But I won’t get up on that stage ever again. You did this, uncle. You. You got your filthy money, so now I’ll get what I want. And that’s Joel.”

Your voice carries around the room, echoing back in your uncle’s ears as he stands there in a bind. His eyes worried and his stance not as tall as when he came in. He sees his mistakes now, the error of his ways. And now he’ll have to figure out how to fix the mess he put all of you in.

He sighs and nods his head slowly, eyes looking down at the polished wooden floor. “I’m sorry, petal. For everything. But I guess you’re right. I did put you in this mess and now I have to find a way to fix it.” His sad eyes trail back up to yours slowly, and for just a minute you feel a bit of sympathy for him wash over you. But then you remember he sold you to the worst of the men in this place. And for that you can’t forgive him.

“Just leave, please,” you sigh as you open the door wide, waiting for him to pass through. He gives you a sympathetic nod and drags his feet through, not looking back as you slam the door shut.

You rest against the back of the door and let out a long sigh, closing your eyes to go through the moments that just happened seconds ago. You did it. You saved Joel’s job, you told him you wouldn’t dance again. You fucking did it!

After simmering over your achievements of the day, you decide to get dressed and ready for the day. You have a date with Joel Miller, the love of your life.

Joel opens the worn wooden door of his apartment after hearing your soft knocks echo through his small space. You barely make it through the door and he’s already pulling you into arms, hugging you tightly and meeting your lips with his as you drink in his lush taste. His lips feel like velvet against yours and you can’t help but open your mouth for him, letting his tongue slide against yours slow and tenderly. You let out a desperate moan that he answers with a gentle pat on your ass before parting.

You look around his little apartment, taking in his private haven as sunlight pelts through the windows. Even though the building is old and probably about to fall apart, the inside of Joel’s small one bedroom apartment is beautiful. Wooden furniture in warm browns fills the space, a dark mahogany throw rug in the living room helps tie in the exposed brick wall along one side of the kitchen. It smells like leather and Joel and it feels like home. You love your frilly pink studio room at the Moulin Rouge, but this feels solid, a place you could settle and make memories, become a family.

You wander over to his couch, your hand smoothing along the warm light brown leather. “This is beautiful, all of your furniture is beautiful.”

He brings a hand up to rub the scruff on the back of his neck, almost like he’s embarrassed. “Thanks, I uh - I made it.”

Your eyes widen as you glance around at the couch, the large chair, the side tables and coffee table. Then your eyes dart to the kitchen where there’s a long wooden table that looks like it came from one tree sits, a bench on one side and three chairs along the other. “All of this?” you ask surprised, your lips parting in wonder. You’re not necessarily surprised, but why is he working as a maintenance man when he has all of this talent?

“Yes,” he nods as he joins you by the couch, resting his hip along the back of it as he crosses his large arms together, “all of it. Every piece of furniture in here I made. I have a small woodshop. That’s what I was doin’ to make money, but it wasn’t payin’ the bills so, well, you know.”

“Wow.” You really aren’t sure what to say, especially when his arms are crossed like that, making all the cords of muscle lining his biceps pop out. You trail your eyes down to take in his thick forearms, veins protruding slightly. You avert your eyes toward the two doors across from the couch. “What’s behind that door?” you ask teasingly.

“The bathroom,” he says flatly.

“Oh,” you giggle, “and the other one?”

His eyes turn mischievous, a little smirk pulling at his right cheek, “My bedroom, baby girl.”

“Did you make the furniture there, too?” you ask, fluttering your lashes at him.

He lets out a quiet laugh through his nose. “Are you askin’ to see my bedroom, darlin’?”

You brush past Joel towards the bedroom door, over your shoulder you say, “Well, how am I supposed to tell my friends where to buy their furniture if I don’t see the whole collection?”

Joel takes a few long strides and ends up right behind you as you reach for the solid door knob. You can feel the heat of his chest as his hand beats yours to the door. He turns the knob slowly, his breath tickling your neck as he says, “If you wanted to try out my bed, that’s all you had to say.” He has the biggest smirk on his face that looks like he wants to get in a little trouble. You just shake your head and laugh.

He opens the door and you smile at his unmade bed, white sheets all twisted into each other like he flew out of it the other morning to get to you. The bed frame is made of the same wood, vertical slats running along it, and you have no idea how someone could make such intricate but sturdy looking furniture. He has a small dresser and one bedside table. There’s a vanilla candle on the bedside table that’s never been lit, but the wax fills the room with a smoky scent. Again, you find yourself feeling that this is a home. He is home.

“You know,” you say as you wander to his bed, “the other dancers say that you can tell a lot about a man by what's in his bedside table.”

“That so?” Joel asks with a raised eyebrow, following you and sitting on the edge of the bed near the pillows as he watches you graze your hand on the wooden material.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod your head and put your hand on the knob to the drawer.

Joel parts his legs and pulls you into him by your waist as you feel his calloused fingers trail along your skin. His honey eyes stare deeply into yours, “Go ahead then, darlin’, see what kind of man I am.”

You don’t break his eye contact, slowly pulling the drawer open with your right hand, the left carding through the curls at the back of his head. When he’s sitting on the bed, he’s in line with your chest, his breath fanning across the top part of your dress. It hits your nipples lightly and you are so glad you decided to go braless today.

Once the drawer is open, he cocks an eyebrow at you. “Well?”

You turn your head to look in the drawer, and while you weren’t sure what to expect, it definitely wasn’t what’s lying in front of you. Your cheeks grow pink as you reach for the first item, handcuffs. The cool metal of the handcuffs feel powerful in your hands. You feel powerful.

“Well well, Miller. Have a lot of girls coming through here?” you smirk, eyes narrowing playfully as you take in his nervous glance.

He laughs and shakes his head, “No baby. Not for a long time.”

“You have the key for these?” you ask, popping open one of the silver cuffs. Joel nods, so you quickly clasp his left wrist with one side of the cuff and then thread the other side through the spacers in the bed frame. Joel doesn’t pull away or stop you, even though he very easily could overpower you and have you naked and strapped to his bed in a matter of seconds.

You twist out of his grasp, grabbing the second item from the nightstand and step back so you’re just inches out of his reach. “Oops,” you say as innocently as possible, fluttering your eyelashes as you send him a mischievous wink.

“Whatcha doin’, baby girl?” Joel’s eyes are starting to glaze over the same way they did when he was licking your pussy in your kitchen the other night.

You hold the small vibrator from his drawer tightly in your palm, hooking your thumbs under the straps of your dress as you slide the material down your arms. You keep your eyes locked on Joel, bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you let the dress fall to the ground with a quiet whooshing sound as it pools at your feet.

“Nothing,” you say, still using an innocent voice. Joel lets out a whispered ‘fuuuuck’ as he takes in your body in nothing but a small black thong. You spin around and hook your thumbs into the waistband of the lace as you slowly tease him.

You hear the handcuffs rub along the wooden bedframe and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s trying to reach out to you. You start to bend at the hip, pushing your ass out to Joel as you drag the thong down your legs as it lands in a heap on the floor. At this angle, you’re on full display to Joel. He can see you're already glistening for him, already so fucking wet.

“Goddamn, darlin’, you’re so fucking pretty.”

As you stand back up, you run your nails gently along the sides of your smooth legs and curvy hips, gathering your thick hair to one side. You glance over your shoulder at Joel as you let out a very seductive, “Oops.”

“Don’t tease me, baby. I’m a weak man when it comes to you.”

“Oh I’m not teasing, just consider this payback for the sink thing the other night.” You kick your dress and panties to the side before sinking to the floor. You plant your feet firmly in front of you and rest back on your elbows. “I’m going to make you watch.”

You relax your knees as they fall open, your pussy on full display for Joel to drool over. He jerks forward and groans at the tug from the handcuffs. “Goddamn, you’re so wet baby, I can see it from here,” he groans, a desperate plea for you to open the handcuffs for him. He wants to touch you so fucking badly.

You adjust your weight on one elbow and bring the small vibrator to your pussy, leaving it off as you spread your arousal slowly through your folds with the shiny toy. You let out a tiny moan, and it’s empowering having Joel tied up as he watches you tease him. His eyes rake over your body, but anytime he talks he’s staring into your eyes. Men don’t often look you in the eye, but you are more than a body to Joel. You’re everything to him. His special Diamond.

You turn the vibrator on low and your whole body jolts when it hits your clit, electric pulses coursing through your body as you hold on for dear life.

“Fuck baby, you look so gorgeous right now. You gonna make yourself come?” His voice is deeper with arousal as you can see his hard cock bulging in his pants. It looks so enticing, but you need to concentrate.

You gasp as you continue to tease yourself with the vibrator. “Y-yes,” you moan, “and then I’m going to do it again and again, until you’re begging me to come over to you.”

“Oh, so this is what we’re doin’? Seein’ who breaks first?”

You giggle and nod your head, you’re already so close, heat building in the lowest parts of your spine. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he smirks, his voice a quiet whisper as he undoes the button of his jeans and slides them down, palming his hard cock through his boxers.

You moan his name, just on the edge of your orgasm.

“Show me, be a good girl and show me how you make yourself come,” he instructs, eyes wide with black lust taking over.

The heat in your lower spine spreads rapidly and your legs start shaking. You throw your head back. “No, look at me when you come,” Joel commands. You snap your head back and lock eyes, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched as he watches you. “That’s it, come on, darlin’, show me what my voice and my commands do to you.”

“Joel!” you yell and your orgasm hits, pulsing hot through your whole body. Your breaths come out shaky as you ride out the small vibrator in your hand unashamed. “Fuck-fuck. Oh my God, Joel.”

“That’s my good girl, so good for me.” Just as your orgasm starts to ease Joel says, “Turn it up, I want to see you come again.”

You do as he says, somehow this has turned from you teasing him to him teasing you, but you aren’t going to give in first. As much as you want his hands on you, you are going to win this.

“Feels s’good, Joel. S-so good.” You’re sure you look like a mess already as you feel a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead.

“Yeah? You gonna break? I could do that for you, baby girl. You could just lie down and enjoy it. Let me take care of you,” he smirks, dark eyes glazing over as he stares straight into your eyes. It’s almost alarming how hypnotized he looks, the look of love above lust swirling in his dark eyes. You can see it now, and it makes you feel a thousand things at once.

“N-never,” you stutter, swirling the vibrator around your sensitive clit as your legs begin to shake uncontrollably.

“That feel good, baby girl?” he asks, his lips curling up as he knows it does. He just wishes he could do something about it.

You moan and shiver in response, a second orgasm just on the edge of breaking. Something in Joel’s eyes seems lighter as he watches you, something that makes your heart pump just for him.

“Come, baby. Enjoy it, cuz you’re gonna break and then I’m gonna absolutely ruin you,” he smirks as a devilish grin takes over his beautiful face.

Your legs start to quake, you can already feel that the second orgasm is going to take over your entire body. You ease off your clit to taunt Joel. “You’ll be breaking the headboard before I give in.”

Joel’s features soften, his voice a deep baritone as he says, “I’d do more than break a headboard to be near you. The moment that spotlight hit your soft porcelain skin, my entire world collapsed in on itself. I would rearrange the stars just to be close to you. I’d swim across the furthest ocean just to see those beautiful eyes. I’d give up food and water if it meant getting to hold you in my arms. Even if it’s only for just a second. You, my perfect little Diamond, are all that matters to me.”

The air in the room has changed from playful to overwhelmingly intimate. It almost crushes in on you like a large boulder, and you never want it to stop.

You pull the vibrator from your clit, but you remain open to him, knees parted as your eyes water over. He’s not looking at your weeping pussy. No. His honey colored eyes are wholly focused on yours now. You get the inkling you’re the most important person in his world now, and it completely overwhelms you. He’s your world. Him.

“What?” It comes out in a tiny whisper, your mouth parted as your eyes softly bore into his.

He continues, “You are all that matters to me. This might sound crazy and irrational, but I knew from the moment I saw you on that stage. I knew you were the one. You are it for me, darlin’. This is it for me. Forever.”

Forever? Oh.

You swallow hard, scared to blink, breathe, or move just in case none of this is real.

Joel whispers your name, tears building along his lash line, “I love you.”

“That’s cheating…” you whisper, your words barely making a sound over the thick tension in the little room as the sunlight beams through the glass window.

“I’m not playing the game anymore, darlin’. I love you.”

The words reverberate around in your skull. He loves you, he knew the moment he saw you. You abandon the small toy on the floor as you stand up and start to pad over to him. “Say it again.”

He clears his throat and looks straight at you, eyes staring right into your soul. “Nothing in my life has made sense lately. And then I saw you. The Sparkling Diamond, my Diamond. Something in my gut pulled me towards you, darlin’. This is it for me, baby girl. I’m in love with you. I have been from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

You stare at Joel, lips parted and eyebrows knit together as a wet tear rolls down your cheek. You don’t think you’ve ever cried a happy tear over anything, nonetheless a man. But Joel… he was different. He made you so happy, the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Joel’s uncuffed hand reaches up to you, his rough palm facing the ceiling. You step forward and clasp his hand in yours as you knit your fingers together, letting his calloused fingers run along the back of your hand. His skin is so warm, inviting like a soft bed. He pulls you close, kissing your knuckles softly before placing your hand on his broad, tanned shoulder as he moves his hand to trace along your hip, then down to your thigh.

“Key?” you ask, voice cracking through the emotion in your chest.

His eyes fall to the drawer in his bedside table, and you see the small silver key at the back of the drawer. He had easy access to that key the entire time, but he didn’t take it, he wanted you to be in charge and do what felt right to you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist, using the other to unlock the cuff with a small click. The moment he’s free, his hands come to your body, pulling you between his legs as he places light kisses along your sternum. Your hands card through his tousled curls and he moans at your gentle touch before sucking your pebbled nipple into his mouth. You cry out in pleasure and then crawl up into his lap, straddling him slowly. He’s almost painfully hard, cock straining the fabric of his boxers.

“Joel,” you moan, rocking your hips along his long length. Your hand snakes between your bodies to pull him out of his boxers. When you pull him out, you see he’s massive.

Your eyes go wide as you take in his large cock. You watch a bead of pre cum glistening on the tip and you reach over to slowly spread it around with your thumb. Both of your breathing is labored, eyes glazed over in anticipation. You both want each other so badly. Both gasping for breath as you smell thick arousal encasing the air, the tension strong as you feel it in the room. It’s hot, strong, thick, and you want to taste it.

“Whatcha doin’ there, baby girl?” he says again, more passionate this time around.

You lift up slightly and press the tip into your waiting, wet heat, feeling just how big he is as you choke out a moan. You stop once the thick, rounded tip is inside of you and rest your forehead on his. “I love you too, Joel.”

He smiles sweetly at you, cupping your face in his large palms before kissing you deeply and passionately. You rock your hips, sliding him in more as you feel the stretch start to happen. You feel every inch and ridge of him until your bodies are flush together. Both of you moan into the kiss, your body shuttering against his as you take him deeper, harder.

“I got you,” he whispers between kisses, his coffee scent encapsulating you completely.

You roll into him again, the feeling of him filling and stretching you causes a new surge of wetness between your thighs, your nails digging hard down his back at the extreme pleasure. You roll again, the soft part of his abdomen putting gentle pressure on your clit.

“Oh God - Joel - aaaah.” His hands move from your face, gliding over the smooth skin of your neck and shoulders, tracing the dips and curves of your back and hips before resting on the globes of your ass. He moves with your rhythm, helping you take what you want.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, voice gravelly and rough, yet somehow tender and full of care. “You’re close, ain’t ya?”

You grind down on him hard, mouth falling open in a silent scream as you feed off the ecstasy of how full he’s making you. He feels so good, and your clit is still so sensitive from the vibrator. “Mmmm - yes, Joel.”

Joel helps you move faster and harder against him, trying his hardest not to come and end this because he wants you to take what you want. All you do is give to others, and he swore to himself the second he saw you that he would make this world yours. Anything you want, whenever you want it. He will always find a way - for you.

“Say it again,” you moan, hands moving back up to the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispers, placing soft kisses along your jawline. His plush lips move to your neck as he says it again, “I love you.”

Your body jolts into his, your orgasm rolling through you as Joel continues kissing your skin lovingly and saying he loves you over and over and over again. You fill his bedroom with your cries of ecstasy, pussy clenching around his hard cock. “I love you, too. Oh, God - don’t stop,” you pant out as you tremble in his arms, head falling to his shoulder quickly as pleasure courses through your body. You’ve never experienced an orgasm this intense before. You’ve never experienced him until now, and it was something you could do forever.

Joel takes over, thrusting up into you faster and faster as you feel his cock bottom out inside you. “I’m - fuck - I’m gonna come, baby.”

You smile into Joel's shoulder, in a complete state of blissed out intoxication. “Please,” you moan, “come inside me.”

Joel chants your name in a quiet whisper as his thrusts turn slow and sloppy, feeling his heavy body start to give out around you. You find the strength to look up at him, locking eyes with those beautiful deep brown eyes as you whisper sweet words to him. “I love you, Joel Miller.”

You feel him twitching inside you, followed by the warmth of him filling you up. Aftershocks of your orgasm jump through your body and you squirm on him as he fills you, moaning your name as he milks your insides.

Joel wastes no time lifting you and turning so he can rest his back against the wooden headboard. The springs of his mattress creak as you both settle, he’s still deep inside of you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His strong hands rub up and down your naked back, relaxing you into his welcoming arms. Neither of you say anything as you catch your breath and the silence around you is screaming that you are safe here. You’re safe. Joel is safe.

“Are you okay?” you whisper when his breathing gets shallow.

“Yes, darlin’. Just relaxin’,” he says as he lets out a content hum, squeezing you tighter as his arms bring you closer into his broad chest. “I want to stay here forever, but I should probably get you cleaned up.”

You start to lift your hips off him and you swear you could come all over again just from that tingling feeling. You whimper quietly as he helps lift you. “I got ya, baby girl,” he says softly, rolling you onto the bed, “be right back.” He hikes his jeans back up and slips out of his bedroom to the bathroom.

Seconds later, he comes back with a small cloth. “Open your legs for me honey.”

His brown eyes and gentle touch are so soft as he cleans your thighs with the warm washcloth, dragging it gently over your sensitive pussy. You cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure as he repeats, “I got ya, baby,” before pulling you into his arms.

You press your face into his chest, soaking him all in and trying to memorize this euphoric feeling. You’ll have to be with Terrance soon, and if you can find a way to put yourself in this moment again then it won’t be so bad. You’ll just think of Joel.

You breathe him in, bathing in his mahogany and sawdust smell. “I love you, Joel.”

He smiles into your soft hair, kissing the top of your head and whispering, “I know, my Diamond. I love you, too. Rest here in my arms for a little bit, then we’ll go get that clay and some wine and go make pottery together.”

Your eyelids get heavy and you drift off into a peaceful and dreamless sleep in his arms, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. There’s gotta be billions of people on this earth but somehow you get to exist in it and experience it with Joel Miller. You think that’s pretty special.

You both doze off longer than originally planned as you lay sprawled on top of him in his warm bed. The afternoon glowing sun fills his bedroom as the two of you stir awake. You rub your eyes sleepily, stretching your long naked body against his. Joel had been awake moments before you, looking down at how peaceful and beautiful you looked. That’s another thing for him to add to the list of things he wants to prove for you, peace. You don’t deserve to be shined up and sent out for those men. You should be able to put on his sweat pants and sit on the couch with your hair piled on top of your head. You’d still be the most beautiful woman alive to him like that. He’s so over the moon in love with you.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Never be sorry, love. You needed rest,” he says as he lays on his back, one arm bent to rest his head on his large hand, the other arm closed tightly around you. “I think we’re gonna have to divide and conquer though.”

You crane your neck up at him, eyebrows knit in confusion. He slides his hand out from behind his head and uses the pad of his thumb to gently rub the crease between your eyebrows. “You go get the clay, I’ll get the wine and dinner. We can meet at your place.”

You laugh to yourself. Oh right, you had other plans together that didn’t involve handcuffs and a vibrator, followed by a really long nap. You nod up at him, excited to teach him how to make pottery, you’ve already decided that you’re going to make matching coffee mugs. That way on mornings when you can’t be together, you still will be together. You plan to paint ‘Come What May’ on the inside of both of them once he’s gone to surprise him. You know he’ll love it.

He helps you get dressed, giving you a peck on the cheek and a pat on the ass as you giggle and head out his door to the small craft store in town. Joel grabs some spare clothes, having a feeling that pottery is messy, and then rushes off to gather his side of the bargain. The town rushes around him but he’s almost in a haze, still somehow surrounded by his Sparkling Diamond.

After he gathers the food and wine, he sneaks into the back door of the Moulin Rouge and heads to your door, knocking gently on the wooden door. You open the door and smile up at Joel, pulling him inside and kissing him deeply as you free his hands from the bags.

When you pull apart, he takes in your clothes as he looks you up and down carefully. You’re wearing a cotton t-shirt style bra and a pair of jean overalls, one strap undone as it hangs down the back casually. The overalls are covered in splatters of dried pottery clay and colorful paint. Your hair is piled on top of your head, a few loose curls falling around your face and the nape of your neck. Quite simply put, you could be wearing a potato sack and you’d still take his breath away.

“Ready to get messy?” you ask with a teasing giggle.

“With you?” he teases as he places the groceries in your kitchenette, “always!”

You grab his hand and lead him to the pottery wheel. “Okay, so I guess I’ll show you mine and then you can make yours?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, biceps flexing as he watches you sit in front of the wheel. You have everything set up already, clay split in half, the water and sponges set aside. He nods and says, “Sure baby, what’re we makin’?”

“Coffee cups,” you smile, “this way we can be together every morning.”

A warm smile crosses his face, tanned skin around his eyes crinkling, “Ain’t you just so damn sweet, darlin’.”

You blush and then take a deep breath, starting the wheel and explaining to Joel what to do. He’s completely enamoured by you. The way you light up when you’re talking about something you're passionate about sets his heart on fire. Your bright eyes make his lips curl up into a warm smile as he takes in the sight of you doing something you genuinely love. He’d like to see more of that. More of that free spirit that pulls him to you.

Soon, your coffee cup is formed and when you smile at your cup he feels an intense sense of pride. Now it’s his turn but before you can get up he sits behind you, pressing his strong body against your back. He’s so warm and comforting when he’s this close. You absolutely love it.

His scruffy cheek lines up with yours, his warm breath tickling your skin as he reaches around you for his lump of clay and places it in the middle of the wheel. “Okay, baby doll. Walk me through this again.”

You blush and relax into him, explaining the steps carefully as you give him a step by step. He starts off well, shaping and molding the clay, but he’s too rough with it and the mug caves in on itself. “Son of a bitch,” he huffs as you giggle.

“You’re being too rough, be gentle.” You take over, reshaping the clay into a ball for him. As you move your hands back to your lap, his large hands cover yours.

“Show me,” he whispers, goosebumps traveling down your spine as you feel his hot breath breathe down your neck.

You swap to control his large hands with your small dainty ones. He starts to shape the mug, just like last time. “Good job, handsome. You’re almost done.”

When it comes time to create the hole again, it crumbles under his strong grip. “God dammit,” Joel huffs, he’s too distracted by you and your long exposed neck just right where he can reach it. So tempted to just kiss you and cover your body with the wet clay that’s caked on his hands.

You giggle again but try your hardest to encourage him. “You almost had it that time, baby. Come on, one more try.”

“You’re distractin’ me,” he says, kissing that soft spot right below your ear. You moan, lips parting and eyes closing at the feel of his warm lips.

You turn your head to look at him, placing a light and lingering kiss to his lips before saying, “Just one more time, please.”

The sun is starting to set, casting a pink glow across your room as the early night air rustles the curtains lightly. “Anything for you, my love.” Joel hums, kissing you back until you pull away and get his clay ready.

He takes a big breath and tries again, this time being extra gentle when forming the hole in the cup. You encourage him quietly the whole time, reminding him to be gentle and cradle it carefully. He knows you don’t mean for it to be teasing or sexual, but hearing you whisper things like, ‘just like that’, or ‘softer baby’, have his cock starting to strain against your back. He knows you can feel it, can sense the change in your breathing as he finishes his mug. It’s not as pretty as yours, but he sure as fuck is going to be drinking his morning coffee out of it everyday for the rest of his life.

You use your wire to get the cup off the wheel and put it beside yours. You both look at them side by side for a little bit, admiring the extra care you took to make them. Yours is showroom quality, people would pay to have that perfectly shaped mug, unlike Joel’s. But you love them, they’re un-perfectly perfect, just like the both of you.

Joel's chin rests on your shoulder as his lips hang just over your smooth jawline. “I love them,” you say with a small smile, admiring the dips and smooth edges of the cups.

He drags one clay covered finger in a heart shape along your arm and with his voice in a gravelly whisper says, “I love you.”

His lips trail from your ear to your shoulder blade before he licks a line across the nape of your neck, making a new trail of kisses to your ear on the other side. You feel your body start to go limp, ready for him to take control and do whatever he pleases. “As sexy as you look in these overalls, baby, stand up and take them off.”

You do as he says, standing up in front of him, back still towards him as you undo the one clip holding your jean overalls up. The metal clasp makes a scraping sound against the metal button before your overalls fall to the floor, pooling in a heap around your feet.

Joel lets out a deep moan at the sight of you in just a grey cotton thong and grey t-shirt bra. “Stay,” he says softly, clay covered hands coming to cover your body as he traces a line down your spine. You can’t see what he’s doing, but his fingers brush against the globes of your ass, then the backs of your thighs, then in random spots on your back. The cool clay left behind, hardening on your skin as he continues marking you with the clay.

“Spin around baby,” he finally says. He looks up at you from the stool, kissing just to the right of your navel, coating his fingers in more wet clay from the wheel. His hands come back to your body, drawing tiny little hearts all over your soft skin. He draws one around your belly button, then the front of one of your thighs, the top of your knee, one right above your actual heart, a few more up and down your arms. His face is soft as he focuses on each heart, each little bit of your body. He’s so taken aback by you, so madly head over heels in love with you that he knows he won’t survive seeing you with Terrance again. So he’s going to mark you, claim your body with clay so he knows you don’t belong to Terrance. Yes, it will wash off, but he was here first and he’s going to be here last. This is his. You are his.

His hands come to grip your hips as he stands, towering over you so you have to crane your neck to see him. His lips come down to yours slowly and softly. You tilt slightly to give him access, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip and moan quietly into his mouth. He returns your passion, kissing you deeply before lifting you up into his arms and walking you over to the side of your bed. He stops for a second, unsure if you want to get your sheets dirty, so he changes course and lowers you to the ground instead while your legs wrap around his waist. He breaks the kiss, moving himself to kiss every square inch of your skin that doesn’t have a clay heart on it. Claiming you again as your wiggle and jolt under his touch.

You moan his name when he hits the sensitive spots, like the tops of your breast or the dips in your hips. You keep your eyes locked on him the entire time, watching the passion in his eyes as he kisses your body nice and slow.

Fuck you love him. You love him so fucking much that it’s almost unbearable to think about him not being near you. How will you fake it with Terrance now?

His gentle kisses move to your legs as he works his way up your body, alternating between limbs before finally getting to your inner thighs. Each kiss is a delicious torture. “Please Joel, please,” you’re practically panting, almost begging for him to touch you.

He sits up and removes his pants and boxers, his cock looking almost painfully hard and you gasp at the sight of him, “I know, baby. I know”

He’s so turned on that it takes a moment for you to realize that it’s just from kissing you. Your body, your little moans, and your whimpers are the most erotic thing to him. “I love the sound of you begging, I’m right here. I got you,” he reassures you.

He situates himself between your legs, kissing the growing wet spot of your clothed center. Your body twitches at the warmth of his lips and you cry out again, desperately needing him so badly that it almost hurts.

“Alright, alright,” he hushes you, “do you need to come darlin’?”

You nod down at him, raising your hips towards his face, “P-please,” you whimper.

He pushes your panties to the side and licks his lips at the sight of your pussy weeping for him. You push your hips up again, desperate for friction from his warm tongue. Joel smiles up at you, “Always so eager for me, ain’t ya? Such a good girl.” And then he dives in, licking at your clit with quick, light flicks of his tongue. You feel yourself go boneless, melting into the soft rug below you, crying Joel’s name out and begging him not to stop.

His tongue slows, almost licking you lazily. The hurried passion evolves into a controlled worship. Your heart rate slows, breathing coming back to normal as you look down at him. His warm eyes pull you in, giving you comfort and security as they seem to melt into yours. This big strong man lapping at your pussy feels like home. He is home.

“Please, don’t stop,” you whisper, the love for him coating your ragged words.

“Never,” he says between licks, “I’ll do this forever if you let me.”

When Joel Miller makes a promise, he keeps it. He’s a man of his word.

Your head falls back to the floor as he continues to lick, kiss and suck you deep into his warm mouth. Your center on fire for him as he awakens your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your hands run along your body, playing with your breasts, pinching your nipples gently, fully immersing yourself in Joel. He doesn’t rush or try to force your pleasure, he just lets you enjoy it. He knows you’ll come when you’re ready, and fuck does he hope you’re never ready.

“Enjoyin’ yourself, my Diamond?”

“Y-yes,” you pant out. Your legs start to shake, the familiar tingle building in your core. He keeps teasing and tasting you over and over again until you’re right on the edge. “Oh God - yes - Joel.”

He smiles into your sensitive skin as he continues pleasuring you. “That’s my good girl,” he praises as he laps at the slick between your legs.

You’ve lost track of time, there’s a chance Joel has been at it for hours, but he moans and encourages you so you let yourself enjoy him. The tingling sensation grows stronger, spreading out to your whole body before it snaps and you're wrapped in pleasure. It waves through your whole body, you moan and cry out, Joel talking you through the whole thing as you start to break.

“I know, I know. That’s it baby, just relax.” His tongue swirls you gently as you come, careful not to push you into overstimulation. He’s so hard that it’s almost painful. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come.”

It starts to feel too intense and you’re suddenly desperate to feel him inside you. Your hands come to his hair, tugging him away lightly, your eyes matching his. “I need you, please. Fill me,” you whine.

You strip off your clothing slowly, taking every single piece off as you keep your eyes on him. You watch as his large body covers yours and lowers you gently to the ground as he crowds your space. He’s so beautiful in the purple sunset lighting of your room. His face and beard are shiny with your arousal but you don’t care, you press your lips to his, a deep and passionate kiss burning while he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, collecting your slick thoroughly.

“Please please please,” you whisper as his kisses move to your neck.

Finally he slides the tip in, you both gasp and then your lips meet again. Kissing one another with hunger as he slowly pushes himself the rest of the way in. Once he’s flush against you he pulls away from the kiss, both your lips puffy and swollen. His arms are resting on each side of your head, hands pushing your hair back as he smiles down at you, fully settled inside of your warm, tight heat.

“I love you, Joel Miller.” Your voice is practically dripping with admiration, each word seems to tattoo itself onto his heart.

He slowly pulls himself out to the tip as he slides back in as he groans you name, bringing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too, baby girl,” he smiles while he ruts deeper inside you.

For the next few thrusts you’re both silent - just panting breaths and little moans, foreheads together and eyes locked onto each other. He moves in and out of you as you circle your hips into his, the soft bit of his belly rubbing against your already sensitive clit.

“Oh God, baby,” you moan. You can feel tears building behind your eyes, pleasure starting to wrap around you again. “I’m - I’m gonna…”

“I know, fuck, I can feel ya. Gettin’ so tight around me, darlin’.” He doesn’t stop the slow push and pull of his hips. “Go on, baby. Come for me.”

Your whole body breaks out in shivers as you come all over him, your slick coating his cock as he works it deep inside you. He presses his body down onto yours more, helping ground you as your body writhes under his. You feel the hot tears escape your eyes as you moan his name loudly.

“There’s my girl, lettin’ go for me. I’m so proud of you.” His thrusts speed up a little as he chases his own release. As you start to come back to earth you feel him growing harder inside of you, his cock twitching as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your walls shuddering.

“Fill me, please,” you grind into him harder. “Want to feel you come inside of me again.”

Joel's hips snap into you one last time before his strong body quakes above you. He doesn’t hold back, moaning and whining out your name as he shoots ropes of warm come deep inside you - marking and claiming you all over again.

“Oh, fuck, darlin’. Feels so good,” he moans as he comes down from his own high and slowly slips out of you, dragging his seed down your thigh as he drops to the floor and pulls you into his chest tightly.

“That was incredible,” you pant as you let your hand drag down his soft stomach, collecting sweat on your fingertips as you look up into warm, loving eyes.

“You’re incredible, my little Diamond,” he smiles as he cups your chin and brings his plush lips down to yours. The kiss is slow, passionate, like you’re the only two people in the world right now. It’s so euphoric with him, everything so full of bright colors that you just can’t get enough of him. He’s the love of your life.

When he pulls away he taps you on the tip of your nose with his index finger and pulls you up off the ground. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you in the shower.”

He whisks you away into the lit up bathroom as he turns the faucet to hot, and the water comes pouring down. He lifts you up into the edge of the shower and steps over, grabbing a soft washcloth as he lathers it in lavender soap.

“Turn around, love. Gonna clean ya off,” he murmurs as you smile and turn toward the water, letting the warmth pour over you as sticky clay starts falling down the drain.

His large hands move languidly over your body, gently scrubbing off the clay as he starts at your collarbone and moves down the length of your arms. His lips graze your neck as he takes his time coating you in the sweet aroma of lavender, the smell of him is everywhere. Hanging in the steam filled air, lingering on your skin, filling your insides as you breathe him in nice and deep. He smells like coffee and a hint of mahogany as his experienced fingers cover your body.

You slowly turn and press your lips to his, sinking your body against his broad chest as he pulls you in and drowns you in all of him. You get lost in his everything as you let your fingers slot through his tousled curls, opening your mouth to invite him in. His tongue tastes like candy, and you devour the taste. Sweet, savory, euphoric.

You don’t know how long you’re in the shower as his hands thoroughly explore your body. You take your time washing him, too. Sliding your hands over every single crevice of his body, trailing kisses over his shoulders, down his spine, all the way to his long fingers. You’re in so deep with him, and this feels like heaven being with him. Every second you’re with him it’s a piece of heaven, he’s your heaven, your saving grace.

After the shower, he wraps you in a soft towel and dries you off and then slides his large grey t-shirt over your head. It smells like him and you want to keep it forever. He leads you to the bed and pulls you against his glowing chest as he wraps an arm around you and gently skims his fingers through your hair. Warm, he’s so warm.

“I had the best day with you, sweet girl,” he whispers as he places a kiss sweetly on your forehead. You nuzzle your face deeper into his neck and wrap your arms tightly around him.

“I did, too. Every day is like a dream with you. Promise it won’t change. Promise me this is forever,” you say quietly as you run your fingers slowly over his chest, praying this isn’t all just a dream.

He sighs and nods his head. “I promise. You’re my forever, darlin’. Never gonna let ya go. You’re mine. My special, rare Diamond.”

He wraps you tighter around him as you feel your eyes start to close, relishing in his scent, his body, his everything. “Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you…” you breathe, sinking all your weight into his body as you kiss his scruffy jawline.

“Oh, baby. I love you more, my little Diamond. My forever…”

You smile and let your mind drift off to sleep as the room grows quiet and dark. You dream of brown eyes, your future, your forever. You dream of Joel.

The last thing you hear is Joel’s voice slipping through the darkness. “Goodnight, my precious Diamond.”

Tags: @casa-boiardi @keylimebeag @skysmiller @vvitchesh3x @littlevenicebitch69 @jessthebaker @strawberri-blonde @pansexual-potatoes

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller tlou #soft!joel miller #moulin rouge au #joel miller series #joel x f!reader

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buckyysdoll · 7 months

Text

— 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 —

જ⁀➴ — • mini fic; slow dancing in the kitchen with joel. pre-outbreak! and x f!reader; cw: kissing, slight suggestive themes; inspired by: “wondering why”— the red clay strays.

MAIN MASTERLIST

The window, blinds not drawn, let in soft light from the street outside. The kitchen was dark, with that exception of orange; it was late Autumn now, the leaves already brown.

The steady hum of the refrigerator made for white noise as you moved, one arm round your husband's neck as you swayed softly on the spot. He wore simple clothes — a soft tee and sweatpants — and held you close to him, with one hand in yours and cradled to his chest, and the other held gentle at your waist.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and you only clutched on to him tighter. Nothing else mattered right then but for this, for your husband. And he only ever saw you.

With the fingers of your hand curled against his neck, you felt the light hair at his nape — were relishing in it, in the steady feel of him, the way that his body pressed flush close to yours.

You found that truly, even after all this time, every touch still felt like the first.

It was so far from it. So far that you knew each other's bodies by heart; in the dark.

Today had been a rare day off for Joel, and you'd spent every hour at home. Staying in bed until two was a novelty he rarely had, so you'd sure spent it well. For the rest, for your evening together, it had been a date night with takeout and tv, while right now as you'd just been about to make tea —

Joel clearly had other ideas.

He'd come and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, warm lips swiftly finding your neck. There was that sweet spot that only he found, and he did, just like always, with his smile in his voice. Along with it, those rough, broad hands came round to your stomach, clothed by his oversized shirt, and the weight of his arms at your middle was welcome. Was all that you needed to anchor you down.

Joel buried his face in the soft, curved juncture between your shoulder and neck; inhaled deeply as your sweet scent, heady and soft, was what grounded him, in turn. The scratch of his stubble pulled a laugh from your throat and his, the sound so deep and low - making you ache for this man, for your love, for how much he meant to you. He was your person.

Even still though, Joel didn't relent. He only kissed a slow line to the curve of your shoulder.

You turned in his arms then and kissed him, and his lips curved up against your own in a smile. It only spread further when your hands settled first at his waist, then roved up to grip his broad shoulders.

And they really were broad beneath that soft, grey material. He was solid, and so safe. He was everything.

Tea long forgotten, just five minutes later found you gently swaying to a slow song, one playing out from the radio set given to you just last Christmas by Tommy. It was an old thing - he called it "vintage" - so music it played came out just slightly fuzzed.

But what did that matter when you breathed in your husband's familiar smell on his skin, on his clothes?

You looked up at Joel, your heart so full that it caught in your throat. God, you loved him. Four years of marriage already and every day just brought you closer, more happy together. His deep warm eyes were twin homes fixed on your own, that you never wanted to stray from - as every day's worth of him knowing and loving you went into that one look.

You stood there, no longer swaying. You braced both your hands on either one of his cheeks. Again, that thick dark stubble was abrasive, though this time on your smaller hands, at your fingers.

It was a privilege to hold him like this, to be called his wife.Joel's wife. Mrs Miller.

He kissed you again as the rain pattered softly outside. You were safe. You were warm.

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stevesbestgirl · 9 months

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Grumpy - Part 1/2

Joel Miller x Reader

2514 words

Warnings: Jackson era!Joel, mutual pining, infected attack (reader gets scraped up but mostly unharmed), gun use, implied character (animal) death (spoiler alert, its me), vague references to reader’s past trauma, alcohol consumption

A/N: I’ve just really wanted to try writing my hand at writing Joel. I want to do another part eventually, but I’m trying to stop hoarding things because they aren’t finished, so please be patient ❤

"Would you leave that thing alone?" Joel gave a long suffering sigh as you knelt and held out a friendly hand to the grizzled-looking tabby cat.

"He's not a thing." You shot Joel a glare in return before returning your attention to the skittish feline sniffing your fingers. It had taken months of leaving food and wearing gloves to get this close without a scratch, but now the cat shoved its weight against your hand, the deep rumble of purring starting up like an old engine. "No one else minds when I stop. It's just for a minute."

"One more minute we don't need to be outside." He was such a stubborn bastard.

With another withering look at Joel, you stopped scratching and dug in your bag for the food you'd brought, setting it out and giving him a quick head pat as you stood, "Sorry sweet boy, I have to go. Take care of yourself, okay?"

The walk back to town was quiet until you felt like you had to defend yourself, "I just like knowing he has something to eat."

"Other animals could smell what you're bringing him-"

"Would you stop it?" It was more of a plea than anything. "I-" You swallowed the surprising lump in your throat; it was harder to talk about these things with Joel. "I know it's silly, when everyone has lost so much, but I miss my cat. And everyone deserves to have someone look after them."

Joel surprised you with a dry chuckle, making your heart flip, "Some of us are more the looking after type, darlin'."

You lowered your gaze to your feet in the snow, pretending to focus on your footing instead of answering. You knew that. That was why Joel always got you flustered. Hell, it felt like half the town must have figured out how you felt about him based on how often you tripped over your words after getting caught stealing glances.

The rest of the walk back was spent in silence, as it often was with Joel. He left you at your door next to his own after asking if you'd be working the bar later that night. You were, and you promised to see him later before you disappeared inside.

***

Shifts at the bar tended to pass quickly- a hell of a lot faster than patrol anyway. There was always work to be done around the settlement during the day, but unless you were on guard duty, most nights were spent at the Clay Pit drinking the homebrew Tommy and the other guys were so proud of. You'd still kill for a wine cooler, but it was better not to think about it too much.

By the time you realized Joel hadn't come in, it was almost ten. Tommy had come in an hour or so ago. You knew Joel would be annoyed if he knew you were worrying about him- he always raised a fuss if you tried to look after him. But still, you hoped he was okay.

It was half past eleven when Joel finally climbed onto his usual stool and tipped his chin in a greeting. You couldn't help the smile that brightened your expression when you saw him. His mouth turned up at the corner in what you always assumed was Joel’s version of a polite smile.

You set his drink in front of him, "Late night?"

He grunted something that might have been a halfhearted laugh, "Game night with Ellie."

"Boggle again?" Ellie loved to brag about beating Joel.

"Nah, I'm teaching her poker."

"Got tired of losing, huh?"

"If I had it wouldn't matter. She's already shaping up to be a mean card player."

You smiled again, "She's a smart girl."

"That she is."

You bustled off to bus tables, leaving Joel to nurse his drink. You'd heard people- other women who thought he was handsome mostly, complain about how short Joel seemed, but you never minded. You weren't much for small talk either, although you were happier than Joel to oblige when someone wanted to chat.

You did always wonder what he was thinking. It was no surprise Ellie could read his stony expressions, since she knew him better than anyone, except maybe Tommy. But to you, Joel was like a brick wall.

You had thought he’d been flirting with you once- one of the bar patrons had stood up unexpectedly as you were walking by and you’d nearly gone down on your ass, if not for Joel’s palm on the small of your back. It was the soft grumble of, “Careful darlin’, fall in my lap and I might not let you go,” only loud enough for you to hear, that had your breath catching and a tidal wave of flustered apologies tumbling from your mouth.

But as quickly as it happened, it was over. When you’d offered to make dinner for him and Ellie as thanks- the closest you’d come to asking him out on a real date- he’d waved it away. And you’d decided then that trying to decipher Joel’s feelings for you would only end up leaving you disappointed. You wanted to think he was interested and you would likely find any evidence you could to support it. But more likely than anything, the man just wanted some peace with his kid.

Deciding that Joel deserved his peace was one thing, but getting your silly crush to go away, that was another. And it seemed like as time went on, you were assigned more and more patrols with Joel until you were going out together at least once a week. But Joel hadn’t complained again about stopping to visit your feline friend.

“Why do you call him that?” Joel’s voice surprised you; usually he leaned broodily against a tree, silent while you visited.

You looked over your shoulder at Joel, the cat still brushing against your shins, “Sweet boy?” Joel nodded, his gaze still on the trees, ever diligent in keeping watch. “Because he is.”

That pulled a dry chuckle from him, the sound startling the cat, “Didn’t you damn-near need stitches the first time you got near him?”

“He was scared,” you defended. “But now that he knows I’m safe, he’s a total love bug.” You shot him a teasing smile, “Kind of like you with Ellie.” You knew no one at the compound would believe it if you told them, but Joel’s cheeks seemed to darken, even beneath the several days-old scruff on his cheeks.

You didn’t call attention to it, digging in your bag for the food you’d brought. Once he was happily eating, you gave him a pat and said your goodbyes, prompting Joel to speak again as you started the rest of the walk home, his voice low, “You don’t wanna give him a real name, do you?”

You thought about lying; it was even harder to be vulnerable when Joel was asking for it- it threw you off guard. “Not particularly. Makes it harder if something does happen to him.”

“Why don’t you bring him in if you worry so much?”

You didn’t bother to suppress a soft sigh, you’d gone in circles about it, “I don’t know how he would do. If he would stay. How he would be around so many people. I don’t want him to be unhappy.”

Joel let it be after that, waiting silently each time you stopped after that. Until the day you stopped and made the chirping sound like usual and your friend didn’t come trotting out from the trees. Heart stuttering, you rolled your tongue again, a bit louder, but there was no sign of him.

"Sweet boy?" You stepped a bit deeper into the woods and clicked your tongue again, waiting. Your heart was beating in your ears, breath getting stuck in your throat.

You were waiting for a comment from Joel- an "I told you so," or an empty reassurance, but neither came.

You tried to call out again, but your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut to stifle the tears trying to well up.

"Darlin'-" You heard the scuff of a boot on dirt and then, "Shit- move!"

Even with your eyes closed, the shadow was still discernible; you stumbled out of the way just in time for a snarl and a swipe at your coat sleeve. There was a sharp bang, then two more in quick succession. You were mid-kick, ready to fight a follow up attack that never came; the zombie crumpled to the ground as you fell backwards, your palms scraping the dirt.

After a beat of silence, you whispered, "Fuck." Then tears spilled over into your cheeks as you stared numbly at the corpse on the ground.

Then Joel was grabbing your arms, his face blocking your view, "Are you alright?" The way he said it made you think it wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"I'm fine." After a beat of deciding whether to accept that, Joel hauled you up by the forearms. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, mindful of the scrapes on your palms; you needed to pull yourself together until you were home. Until Joel wasn't around to see you cry.

But Joel refused to leave you at your door like usual, "Lemme help you get cleaned up."

You didn't have it in you to argue. So you ended up sitting on the closed toilet lid while Joel knelt in front of you, your first aid kit open on the counter. You didn't flinch when he disinfected the scrapes, drawing a raised eyebrow, but no questions.

Once you were bandaged up, he rumbled low, brown eyes boring into yours, "You sure you're alright?" He was still holding your wrist.

You nodded numbly, "Just shaken up." You broke eye contact, "'M sorry."

He tapped his thumb on your chin, urging you to look at him, "What're you sorry for?"

"You were right. I shouldn't have stopped. I probably got him killed. Almost got myself killed, if not for you." Saying it aloud made the tears spring back up.

"None of that was your fault." The way Joel's expression softened would have melted your heart on a normal day. Today it made you feel like an idiot.

"Thanks. But I think I need to be alone for a little bit."

If you didn't know better, you'd think you caught him by surprise. But he recovered quickly, his thumb brushing over your wrist as he stood. You followed him to the door, “Thanks for the help, Joel.”

He nodded, but he hesitated for a moment before he left, his fingers wrapped around the open door. He glanced at you again and practically grunted, “You’re welcome.” Then he stepped through the door and hastened off the patio. You had been kind of rude; you couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. You closed the door quickly; you would feel guilty for your rudeness later, but you needed to be sad in peace.

“Surprised you’re working tonight,” Tommy commented when he came into the bar at half past nine.

You glanced at him in the middle of bussing the bar, “Better than sitting home. Joel told you?”

“Had me out practically ‘til dark looking for that cat.” He gave a chuckle to show he held no real contempt for his brother, but your throat felt a bit tight.

Finally you mustered, “That was nice of you both. I wouldn’t have expected you to find anything, but I appreciate it.”

Tommy glanced down at the bar, clearing his throat, “We, uh, actually did find something.” Somehow your heart sank even lower. “No body, but there was some fur- a few different colors not far from where that infected was.”

You nodded, struggling to stay dry-eyed, “Thanks for telling me.” You tipped your chin at the room, “I should do a round.”

Tommy nodded and freed you to check on the other patrons; you made sure to keep yourself busy until you locked the door behind you. You’d been dreading the end of your shift.

Even though it was the same as always, your empty house seemed to magnify the loss inside you. If you said it out loud, it would sound so silly to be so upset over a cat- one that wasn’t even really your pet. But it really felt like the nail in the coffin of loss; your parents, your boyfriend, your sister. You’d bourne it all without a fuss. Survival had taken priority. But Jackson had made you soft- made you feel safe. Now this one little thing without even a proper name felt like the straw to break the camel’s back.

You took your blanket out to the swing on your front porch- Joel had helped you fix it- and wrapped yourself up. You huddled up to block your cheeks against the chilly air, but it was worth it for the view of the stars. The chilly night air in your lungs and the bright sparkle of the sky with tonight’s clear sky helped to clear your head.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Joel’s voice broke you from your stupor. You must have visibly jumped because he quickly added, his voice a bit softer, “Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to spook ya.” He walked halfway up your front sidewalk and paused.

“That’s okay, I should probably go inside anyway.”

You didn’t make any move to get up and Joel came closer, leaning against the rail post, “You’ll get sick sittin’ out here dressed like that.”

“The cold doesn’t actually make you sick, you know.” You surprised both of you by sounding more like your normal self.

“You sound like Ellie.”

“Like I said before, she’s a smart girl.”

That pulled a curl from the corner of his mouth that looked suspiciously like a smile in the dim light. He wasn’t going to let you joke your way out of the conversation though. “You alright? Actually?”

You nodded, “I’m okay. Just needed some air.” There was a pause, then you added, “I appreciate that you went out to look for him. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m still hopin’ he’ll turn up.”

You glanced away, “It’s okay. Tommy told me about what you found.”

“That jackass. I asked him to wait until I was sure.”

“I’m sure enough,” you said. “It’s too dangerous to be out there looking for him.” You offered a sad smile, “You don’t have to take care of me because you feel bad. I’m alright.”

Giving a sardonic chuckle, Joel raised an eyebrow, “I don’t look after anyone because I feel bad for them.”

“And yet, you’re here, making sure I go inside and get warm before you go home.”

He shook his head, “And you’re still here, probably freezing.” He tromped up onto the porch and offered you a hand up. You reluctantly accepted and let him steer you to the front door. He tugged the blanket up more tightly around your shoulders, “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, “Good night, Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #joel x reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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farmerlarrry · 5 months

Text

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter fourteen | chapter thirteen| read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: Short–er chapter than usual, but the last few larger chapters completely turned my brain into mush lol and needed a little bit of fluff to cleanse my palate. The last bit was heavily inspired by the song “Wondering Why” by The Red Clay Strays, so shout out to all the people on tiktok for saying this is the perfect song to slow dance to, ily! I hope you are all having a lovely start to December! Stay safe!! :)

word count: 5982

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Fifteen

Neither you nor Joel spoke of that night in the weeks that followed. Although left unspoken, what almost happened never left your thoughts. Every waking moment, whether you were with Joel or not, it consumed every part of you, oftentimes leaving you wondering if you’d ever get a chance like that again. You were sure it consumed Joel as well. He was still the same man as before, but something very subtly changed. The way he treats you and looks at you– something was different behind those complex eyes, something deep down. It was almost as if he’d gone soft on you, but was desperately trying to hide the fact, probably a way to try and protect himself. If that was the case, you understood why.

There was a small part of you that felt embarrassed about that night, your feelings had been put on full display, something that you didn’t think Joel was aware of up until that point. His had been too, which made you wonder if he was embarrassed about it as well– if he regretted revealing that part of him–and perhaps that’s why nothing had been said by him. Every time that thought resurfaced, it nearly sent you into a panic.

You kept having to reassure yourself, knowing him, if he had regretted it, things would not have stayed so… normal between the two of you. Joel still stops by your place in the morning, the two of you sharing breakfast and coffee before heading out for patrol. If anything, the two of you began spending more time together. On the nights you aren’t at Charles’, you and Joel spend together. Tommy would sometimes join, but when Nessa found out about it all of a sudden she needed Tommy home more.

Although you told yourself that you’d stop drinking, it was the one thing you and Joel often did together. Wake up, patrol, drink… you had a nearly permanent headache, but for you, it was a small price to pay. You were finally content with the life you’ve created, even happy at times.

James had been avoiding you since that day too. You truly intended to talk to him, not that what you’d say would make things any better, but you at least owed that to him; an explanation. Of the many times you tried, he’d either leave as soon as you were within a 20-foot radius of him and the times you caught him off guard, he’d simply walk away without a word or look directed at you. You missed your chance to talk to James, missed the opportunity when it actually counted, and would come off as genuine.

You thought of maybe writing him a letter, leaving it on his doorstep or with Charles to pass it on to him– that way you’d know for certain he got it, whether he ended up reading it or ripping it to shreds; at least you would know that you tried. Ultimately, the thought seemed insincere and cringe, so you decided just to let things be.

The remnants of your actions haunted you enough as it is. Between the dirty looks you received from Heather and Aimee, the cold shoulder treatment you received from Nessa, and Dottie constantly asking why you and James never come over together anymore– you felt like all that was punishment enough.

“Why don’t you and James ever come over together anymore,” Dottie often asked some variation of this question crossing her arms and furrowing her brows.

With Charles grimacing in the background, pretending as if he doesn’t hear, you’d return Dott’s curiosity with your own variation of answers– our schedules don’t line up anymore, he’s busy tonight, I was busy with… You wondered if she pressed James about it every time he came over, wondering what he said in response.

Your actions followed you wherever you went, the only time you had real peace was when you were either alone at home, or when you were out on patrol with Joel with no one else around. The constant stares you received from the other guards around your age left you wondering who had been running their mouths and how much of it was actually the truth.

Jackson reminded you much of the small town you were from, at least from what little you remember of it. The sense of a close-knit community, for the most part, you could rely on each other, but when it came to the gossip… Everyone took what they heard as fact and had no issues spreading it around.

–

The night after you and Charles spoke in the isolated corner of Jackson BBQ, you went over to his house for dinner as planned. A nervousness fisted your stomach, making it twist and turn with every hesitant step you took toward his house. You wondered if James would be there; if Charles had told him of your company that night–

Unsurprisingly, James had not come. You weren’t quite sure if you were relieved by this or if some part of you had wished had shown up.

After the excitement of your company had settled and Dottie and Henry went to sleep, you and Charles sat in his study like the two of you used to do. Most of the time spent had been in silence, but you knew Charles had something to say. His face clearly indicated he was biting his tongue, forcing himself to swallow whatever words that had been filling his mouth, remaining unspoken.

“James is a good boy, you know,” He finally spoke, his words coming out calm but a feeling of heat behind them lingered after the room returned to silence. You let out a huff of air. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

All you could do was nod; a nod with no meaning other than you didn’t want to leave what he said unacknowledged. What you really wanted to do at the moment was roll your eyes, and if it had been anyone other than Charles initiating this conversation, perhaps you would have.

“And,” His voice shook as if he was unsure whether to continue, smacking his lips and taking a moment to ponder on his thoughts. You watched him carefully out of the corner of your eye, your body slumped in the firm sofa chair. You tapped your fingers along your thigh as you waited for him to continue. “Joel, he’s–”

At the sound of his name, you shot up from out of your chair before he could finish, beginning to take long strides toward the front door. Whatever he was going to say about Joel, you didn’t want to hear it. You endured the nasty comments from everyone too often, biting your tongue when all you wanted to do was shoot something nasty back at them. You wouldn’t hear it from Charles.

As you opened the door, Charles came up from behind you, pushing his palm against the door causing it to slam shut. The sound vibrated through the house leaving Charles cringing and eyeing the children’s bedrooms. Although your hand remained on the doorknob, you hadn’t tried to open it again, standing still while your breathing became messy, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Joel’s a fine man too,” Charles’ voice was dark as he spoke, but he was quick to release the words. His statement slightly caught you off guard, forcing you to face him slowly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye and instead settled on staring at his shoes. “A lot of people here don’t get him and that’s– it is what it is, but he's a good man. He cares and a lot of people don’t nowadays.”

You felt as if you were stripped bare, your mind and soul naked and completely vulnerable. All you could do was stare at the ground, how the shadow of Charles’ shoes met the raw grain of the wood and the gaps between each plank leading to an abyss of darkness. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, your shoulders tensing up to the point of pain.

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice was small. Putting his arm on your shoulder, Charles guided you over to the couch. The two of you took a seat in unison.

“James told me his… suspicious the day Joel came back, and then you were wearing Joel’s shirt at dinner– let me finish,” His voice was calm, soothing your panic. You tried to butt in, demanding to know whatever James told him, but Charles made you listen. “As I told you before, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’ll offer you my thoughts, you can take them as they are.”

Taking a moment to calm yourself, you nodded, urging him to continue. In, out, in… you guided yourself, the stuffy warm air barely doing anything to ease your breathing.

“Regardless of going about it the wrong way, you’re allowed to feel that way– you aren’t… you don’t belong to anyone,” He finally spoke, the reassurance running through you like a sip of cold water on a hot summer day.

“I fucked up Charles,” You stated simply. “I should’ve– I should have actually talked to James, but Joel came back and– and–” You shook your head, coming to a loss for words, “I didn’t know if Joel would feel the same, and talking about it to anyone was just too much. I– I don’t know. I thought I liked James, I really did, but when I saw Joel– and my heart, I just felt–”

The words rushed out of your mouth, you weren’t sure if any of it made sense. Charles nodded as he listened, though you weren’t sure he quite understood. You shrugged to signal you were out of words, left with nothing else to say as your breathing turned to shallow sharp inhales. Charles grabbed your hand, holding it in his, and ran soft strokes along your knuckles. You stared at your conjoined hands as he continued, it reminded you of your father, and how he used to calm you when you were in a panic.

“Does Joel feel the same way?” Charles’ voice was monotonous when he asked. Forcing yourself to look up at him, you swallowed against the lump in your throat.

“Wha– what?” You narrowed your eyes at him, confused. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest.

“You said you didn’t know if Joel would feel the same way,” he quickly responded, a hint of confusion gleaming in his eyes.

You brought in your bottom lip tugging on it continuously between your teeth as flashbacks from the previous night poured in. You hadn’t realized your wording, you should’ve been more careful.

“I don’t know,” you quickly correct yourself. You weren’t entirely wrong, for all you knew last night was just… you let out a soft sigh at your own thoughts. “I don’t know if he does.”

A silence fell between the two of you and you became too aware of the soft ticking of the wall clock. Tick, tick, tick. It sounded loud in your ears, your eardrums seizing on each tick.

“Let me talk to James, okay?” he finally said. A weight instantly released from your tense shoulders, the lingering headache disappearing in an instant. Coward, a voice whispered to you, but you ignored it–at least tried to ignore it.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” A heat washed over your face, your body folding in on itself, “about Joel, that is.”

–

On this particular night, after a long day’s journey to an abandoned ranch and back, you and Joel found yourselves at The Tipsy Bison, tucked in the corner taking in drink after drink and going back and forth between playing billiards and darts.

The bartender for the night apparently was not very happy with how rowdy the two of you became over who won and who lost as well as how riled up you made some of the other guests for the night, to which he sent over Nora– out of everyone, her? You rolled your eyes, knowing she would likely report this back to James– to tell you it was time to wrap things up and go elsewhere.

“Yours or mine?” Joel asked without fully clarifying what he meant, he knew you would know what he was asking. You jogged the few feet that separated the two of you, nearly tripping over your own feet before slowing down as he pushed against the door with his back and held it open for you.

You took a moment to think as you stumbled out onto the porch, your hand lightly finding his wrist to grab onto for a short moment to keep you steady. He waited for your answer, slowly taking a few steps down, his torso angled towards you. You were humming softly to yourself as you sort through your thoughts, which were a blur even to you given your state.

“Probably yours, because–” you started to say but stopped yourself mid-sentence. Joel completely turned his body to face you, now slowly walking backward in front of you. His face twisted in confusion. “Actually, I know a place we can go to.”

Joel cocked his head waiting for you to reveal the location.

The abandoned building.

–

The entire walk you were hoping to whatever higher power there was that the others weren’t there. You didn’t see them at the bar so that didn’t leave many other places they could be. You knew that Drew and James were both due to go out for an overnight run sometime this week to Teton Valley, but that still left Heather, Aimee, and Nessa unaccounted for. They wouldn’t go out there, not without James or Drew, you kept telling yourself–reassuring yourself–of the fact that the three girls were a bit wary of how far away the building was from the main part of the community, regardless of the safety each guard ensured as a priority.

It wasn’t a quick walk by any means. You had to walk past the cemetery and greenhouses to where a field lay bare. In recent months, Maria has tasked some of the community members to turn half of it into more farmland and the other half left to expand the greenhouses, but the work efforts have been slow, especially with the urgent help with harvesting.

Past the field where the trees stand dense, there is a pathway, easily missed if you don’t know what you’re looking for. That pathway leads to the building and about a hundred yards past the building was the fencing that kept Jackson contained.

Although it was hidden away from the community and not used for anything in particular, many of the guards as well as Maria and Tommy knew about it. No one ever explicitly said not to go to it, but many of those who knew about it seem to forget about it which is how it became the go to hang out spot for you and the others. It offered a sense of secrecy with safety and was far enough from the main parts of Jackson where you never had to worry about being too loud.

The darkness crawled at your skin and a feeling of being watched hovered around you which seemed to help you sober up. Joel was behind you, only a few feet separating you from him. Occasionally you’d peer over your shoulder, mainly to make sure he was still there, in case you needed him for some reason. You could tell, even in the darkness, he was a bit hesitant about following you.

“Where’re we goin’?” Joel asked for the fifth time as you passed the cemetery, each time he asked his tone became less and less patient. Regardless of his tone, the sound of his voice sent a calming effect to run its course through your body, settling your churning insides.

“You don’t like surprises huh?” A faint smile formed as the breathy words came out of your mouth. It amused you to see him like this; fidgety like he had ants in his pants.

“No, not–” His voice conveyed to you that he was very clearly annoyed. You let out an overdramatic sigh which immediately shut him up.

“You’re no fun,” You turned your body to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him as you stopped walking. He only stopped when there was about a foot separating the two of you.

“Fun enough for you to spend your nights with me ‘parently,” he spat back almost immediately, a bit of humor and amusement lingering in his tone. As much as you wanted to fire back at him, you ignored his comment and started to slowly continue down the field. You could almost make out the details of the trees even in the darkness, meaning you were almost there.

“Remember how I told you I would hang out with Nessa and her friends?” he nodded, falling into step right next to you. You paused before continuing, “I’m taking you to where we used to go.”

“And if they’re there?” The words rushed out of his mouth. The thought made a sense of anxiety fill your chest.

“I think Drew and James are gone, but if the other three are there, then… we’ll find somewhere else to go.” You tried to steady your voice as you spoke. The thought of them seeing the two of you together, especially seeing you and Joel go to a place that’s so… secluded, did not settle well in your gut.

When Joel didn’t answer, you looked up at his face. His lips were set in a thin, tight line and his eyes were hardened, locked on the gravel crunching beneath his boots with each heavy step. You pinned your eyebrows together, is he anxious? Anxious that they will be there, that they’ll see us, or anxious that it will just be us?

You took one step to the side closer to him and gently knocked your elbow against Joel’s arm, catching his attention. His eyes widened as if he had been lost in some sort of mind-consuming thought.

“Okay?” You asked, desperate for some sort of reassurance that he was okay and this was okay.

He gave you a single nod, his body remaining tense.

–

The lights weren’t on when you arrived at the crumbling building, a shadow of blackness surrounded it. Regardless of the fact, you still slowly peeked your head inside to make sure no one had been in there before trying the switch to illuminate the dark room. Even though they didn’t come on, you still flipped the switch a few more times, desperately hoping you wouldn’t have to go in blind. The building was relatively safe, but the dark still gave you the chills–the thought of something hiding, waiting to grab you– the fear still haunted you.

You let out a loud sigh.

“The generator is a bit finicky,” you said plainly. The many memories of Drew kicking at it and cursing under his breath immediately resurfaced.

“Sure it’s safe?” he asked as he poked his head past the threshold of the door. Joel gently grabbed onto your bicep as he continued to survey the vast darkness of the building. His concern provoked a small breathy laugh from you.

“Let’s hope,” you responded, half serious. Joel let out a throaty hum, not coming off as too enthusiastic.

Joel followed closely behind you as you entered.

–

You finally managed to get the generator that James somehow managed to get many moons ago to turn on and went around to the various outlets to plug in the string lights. Joel slowly walked around the perimeter of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, running his eyes along the walls filled with posters and pictures the gang had once put up, looking at the furniture all of you managed to take from the donation center somehow unnoticed or from the few homes that remained unoccupied. Though you were never on the best terms with most of them, a lot of memories had been created in this very room–times of peace and ease. Showing him this place must have felt almost as vulnerable as it must have felt for him showing you his spot. An ache began to develop deep in your chest. You let out a deep sigh, letting the ache escape into the air.

His eyes lingered for a good while on a section of the wall that had been solely dedicated to the Polaroid pictures that had been taken on the nights spent here. Bringing his fingers up to one that was stuck at an angle beneath another picture, he pulled it loose. From your quick glance across the room, you didn’t have to be next to him to know that it was the picture of you and James.

James had both of his hands covering your eyes, a wide grin spread across his face. You had your hands wrapped around his wrists, your knuckles white as you tried to tear them away from your face. The longer you thought about it, you could have sworn you could hear yours and James’ overlapping giggles, Nessa yelling out ‘cheese’ before pressing down the shutter button. The ache formed once again, this time spreading from your chest to the pit of your stomach.

Without saying anything, barely provoking any sort of reaction from him, Joel turned and set it down on one of the side tables. As the picture left the tips of his fingers, his attention was immediately shifted elsewhere. Joel picked up one of the records from the stack piled on one of the small side tables, taking a seat on the worn and faded brown couch.

The distraction allowed you to swiftly sweep past the table, picking up the photo and slipping it into your back pocket to be discarded eventually.

You came up to Joel’s side. Using the back of the wooden chair next to him to keep you stable, you bent over the side of the couch to the corner where the last string of light’s plug hung free from the outlet. The heat of his body clung to the back of your cold limbs and you leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you. Joel cleared his throat awkwardly, the sound startling you and causing you to fumble the plug, making it fall behind the couch.

‘Sorry,” your voice was muffled as you reached your hand into the darkness, feeling around for the plug. A heat began to burn in your cheeks, spreading down to your chest, as you realized why Joel cleared his throat. You practically pinned him against the edge of the couch with your ass in his face.

You began to move faster, your fingers becoming tangled with the cord as you pushed it firmly into the plug. A small wheeze came from him as you straightened yourself, retreating a step back.

“Sorry,” The words were now barely above a whisper. You raised your eyebrows, widening your eyes at him as you try to remain as neutral as possible. His eyebrows twitched as he finally brought himself to look up at you. You could have sworn his eyes glazed over the entirety of your body before eventually meeting your eyes.

“Where’d you get these?” His voice was tight, guilty sounding as he changed the subject.

“Drew gets them when he goes into the cities outside of Jackson,” you responded, taking one step closer towards Joel, peering around his arm in the narrow space at the record he had been holding onto. “Most of them aren’t very good, but he picks up what he can find– I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

He nodded very subtly, pinning his brows together as he flipped the record over, looking at the songs listed on the backside.

“And the player?” He questioned further. Joel must have heard the hitch in your breath with the look he gave you in return to which you turned on your heel, heading toward the couch sitting opposite from where Joel was.

“It was James’ father’s at one point,” You responded dryly, slightly cringing as you remembered how serious James was the night he brought it, making sure everyone– especially Drew– knew if it broke, there would be serious consequences. Joel said nothing in response, just going back to sifting through the various records.

The vibe completely changed from the time you left the bar to now–an odd sense of intimacy lingered heavily in the room. You needed a drink, just one to shake off this sudden awareness.

Your eyes swept the room, landing on the old dented filing cabinet tucked next to the door. It was where the group kept all the alcohol each of you had been able to scrounge up as well as the collection of unmatching glasses that sat upon a tea cloth on the top. The filing cabinet was simply for safekeeping, you were desperately hoping that it hadn’t been emptied since the last time you were there.

The broken handle was cold on your fingertips as you pulled on it. The drawer did not budge and you rolled your eyes, fully taking a seat on the ground so the top drawer was now eye level. You curse softly under your breath. Of course one of them would keep it locked up– probably Drew… greedy bastard, you thought.

You never noticed anyone locking it before, but then again, you had never paid that close attention–you didn’t need to. Running your fingers over the metal latches and then over the face of the lock, you pinned your eyebrows together. You’ve worked with this kind of lock many times before when you were still out on your own. They weren’t complicated locks, low security if anything due to them having a universal one-pronged key amongst this type.

Without any further thought, you pulled the small knife out of your pocket and flipped it open, ramming the tip into the keyhole. If you could just get it at the correct angle, it should just pop open. You didn’t care if the others knew someone had been in here.

With a bit of jiggling, the shackle popped loose causing the corners of your lips to twitch slightly into a smile. Your eyes went wide as you opened the drawer–there was just as much, if not more than the last time you saw it.

Rising back onto your feet, you look over your shoulder back at Joel who was still fully occupied by the record collection. His face was stuck in a deep sense of concentration.

Picking a bottle at random, you turned to face Joel shaking the bottle. The sound of the liquid sloshing against the sides and lapping over itself seemed to catch his attention as he snapped his head up, looking in your direction through his brows.

“Want some?” you offered when he didn’t say anything, jutting the bottle out toward him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to look at the label– contemplating– before shaking his head and returning his attention back to the records. You simply shrugged before turning back around, flipping over one of the various drinking glasses on the top of the cabinet, and began to pour a generous amount.

You kicked your feet at the concrete ground, dust and dirt dancing through the air, as you slowly made your way over to the other couch that sat across from the one Joel was currently settled on. Laying the entire length of your body sideways on the couch and resting your head on the padded armrest, you closed your eyes– just for a moment, you told yourself– holding your drink on your stomach with one hand and the other playing with the edge of one of the cushions where the stuffing began to leak out.

When you opened your eyes, Joel was leaning over, placing one of the many records onto the platter of the player. Gently he let the needle fall onto the edge and pressed the button to turn it on. Music softly filled the room, the sound emitting from the speakers sounded muffled and scratchy, yet comforting and nostalgic.

As Joel returned to his spot, leaning into the back cushion and widening his grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, you caught his attention. Holding his gaze, you sat upright, downing the rest of your drink and resting the glass on the ground.

“What?” He asked as you flashed him a toothy smile, your lips spreading thinly across your face as the corners reached your eyes and the second wave of alcohol hit your bloodstream.

–

The music began to flow through your veins, your body swaying without any coherent thought running through your mind. Spreading your arms out at your sides, you began to spin slowly and your body began to feel weightless; your surroundings and Joel blurring together with each turn. The air running over your skin made goosebumps dance up your arms and you let out a small giggle. You felt so free… so loose… so… happy. You felt like the person you had once been a long, long time ago.

Slowing your spin to a stop, you quickly became dizzy as you came to your senses, your brain struggling to comprehend that you were no longer going in circles. With the alcohol in your system, it made your body’s reaction twice as clumsy. Joel was watching you carefully, a small smile on his face, and appeared to be very amused by you. You began to tumble to the side, the opposite direction of any sort of furniture to stabilize yourself, as your feet tangled together. Joel lunged from his sitting position for you, looping one hand around your back, the other grasping onto your bicep.

“Woah,” The noise came out of you in a breathy whisper as the falling sensation subsided. Joel’s eyes were soft in the dim lighting of the room, the light reflecting off of his dark and ever-tired eyes.

As he helped you back up to the stability of your feet, he kept hold of your shoulders. You could feel his fingers gently but firmly pressing into your skin making your heart skip a few beats. Through your still semi-blurred vision, you make eye contact with Joel, who is steadily holding onto your gaze. His face, complex as usual, leaves you completely in the dark about what might be running through his mind. The look in his eyes took you back to that night.

You softly ran your hands up along his arm until you reached his biceps, hesitating to curl your fingers around them. Dropping your gaze from his, you run your fingers along his worn flannel, the fabric is soft under the tips. All you can focus on at the moment is the feeling of the fabric between your fingers and the warmth that radiates from underneath. Joel has yet to move a muscle since you returned his gesture, though you were almost positive you could hear the beating of his heart– deep and wild.

Slowly moving your eyes along his chest to the skin peaking out where the top few buttons were undone–his chest hair poking through– up along his neck and into his eyes. Something changed from a few moments prior, from early this evening. Your breath hitches as his throat bobs and his tongue darts between his lips.

As you began to part your lips, trying to find any words to say, Joel very slowly ran one of his hands up your back, finding a home at the base of your neck where skin meets hair. Very softly he ran his thumb over your hairline, over and over. He was looking at you, but it felt like his gaze had been deeper– deeper than whatever he saw on the surface.

“I haven’t heard this song in a very long time,” His voice was quiet but hoarse, rattling low. You had to force yourself to swallow, your mouth and throat growing drier by the second.

Before you could muster up a response– even a reaction– Joel gently pulled your head into his chest. You didn’t protest, you would let him do whatever he wanted to you at this moment. His hand lingered at the base of your neck with your ear flush against his chest. Still, he softly ran his finger along your hairline causing a chill to make its way down your spine. Your heart felt as if it were beating outside of your chest and you noticed how deeply and fast Joel’s was beating in unison.

Joel took the lead as the two of you began to sway your bodies in unison, simply shifting your weight between each foot, very slowly turning in a circle. With your arms loosely wrapped around his torso, you began to run the fabric between your index finger and thumb again. This is the moment you’ve been craving since you were left on your own at the beginning of the outbreak– a sense of safety, a sense of companionship, anything other than the loneliness that rotted inside your heart for far too long– always too afraid to admit it, too afraid to get close to anyone for the next day is never promised. Sure, you caved into the intimacy of physical touch, but emotionally… you’ve never let yourself cave into that. But Joel… Joel was different. This was different.

The longer the music went on, transitioning from one song to another, a calmness settled between the two of you, your bodies melting into one another becoming one. You hadn’t dared to move your head, afraid that he’d let go of you entirely if you moved even just a bit; afraid that this moment would end sooner than you desired.

As the record player sputtered to a stop, the music abruptly leaving the room empty and silent, you and Joel remained together, swaying back and forth. Joel’s heartbeat returned to a steady, comforting beat. He flattened his palms against your back as a way to tell you, don’t let go– not yet. So you didn't, you would remain in his arms until he was ready to let go.

Without creating any distance between your bodies, you shift your head to look up at him, your chin firmly pressed against the bare part of his chest. He angled his head just right so he could look down at you. For a moment all you and Joel could do is stare at each other, as if the two of you haven’t stolen enough glances in the time you’ve known each other. Joel’s bottom lip was full of color and slightly swollen as if he had been chewing on it. You blinked a few times to bring yourself to the present moment.

“I missed you,” The words flowed out of you before you could think of what the consequences of admitting that would be. In the moment it felt right, you felt safe enough to admit that to him and you wanted him to know.

His face was set in stone, but a glimmer of something appeared in his eye and his shoulders appeared to relax as he slowly exhaled. It seemed like he didn't know what to say back. You didn’t care if he felt the same way if he missed you or even cared for you the way you do for him. All that mattered was that he knew someone had missed him, that his absence here mattered to you.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel sane,” You followed up in a whisper, returning the side of your face to his chest and tightening your arms around him. His heart rate picked up once again– deep and wild.

read chapter sixteen here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

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