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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 day ago

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endure & survive | ii. don't shoot

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), grief, gun talk/threats

word count: 3.9k

series masterlist | previous chapter

JOEL

“Easy, now. Don’t shoot,” I say, raising my hands slowly with my palms facing the woman currently aiming the barrel of a shotgun at my face.

“Fuck you,” she spits, tightening her grip on her gun. “Go or I’ll shoot your head right the fuck off.”

“The hell you will!” Ellie’s voice sounds from the stranger’s other side, causing me to let out a low curse. When I chance a glance at her, she’s holding her pistol like I taught her, aiming it at the woman’s head.

“Ellie—“

“Who the fuck is she? Your ward?” the stranger asks, her brows furrowing as she adjusts her position to be able to watch us both.

“I’m the one aiming a gun at your head, dipshit,” Ellie returns.

“Hey,” I hiss, snapping my hand at her while remaining as still as possible. “Language.”

“She’s trying to shoot you,” Ellie replies, as if I’m the senseless one here. She’s still young enough to enjoy the thrill of a fight. Me, on the other hand, I’m just trying to get out of this without a gunshot wound.

“Haven’t tried yet,” the stranger corrects. “Just threatened to.”

“And I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way,” I say, focusing back on the woman a few yards away from me. “We’re just passin’ through. Didn’t know anybody was out here. That’s all.”

“Then you can continue passing,” she says, jutting her chin towards the treeline behind us.

“Alright,” I say, backing away slowly. “Ellie, c’mon.”

“What the fuck, Joel?” Ellie groans. “She has a fucking fireplace.”

“And a gun pointed right at me,” I remind. “We can find someplace else—“

“Mama,” a tiny voice interrupts me, and I watch as a kid half Ellie’s age steps out of the cabin and onto the porch.

“Baby, get back inside,” the woman—the child’s mother—commands, softening her voice for him.

I watch as she struggles to pick who to focus her attention on—her son, or Ellie and I. In the end, it’s her son that wins as she lowers her gun and guides the boy to hide behind her leg, his skinny hands clinging to her worn and weathered sweater.

“Shit,” Ellie says, lowering her gun as she shoots me a glance before turning back to the woman. “I didn’t realize you had a kid. Just so you know, I wasn’t going to shoot unless you shot first.”

The woman lets out what I think is meant to be a chuckle, but sounds more like a scoff. “You do realize you’re a kid, too?”

“Eh,” is Ellie’s only response, along with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

“Listen,” I butt in, slowly making my way over to Ellie. “Clearly, you know what it’s like to have a kid out here in all this mess. We ain’t lookin’ to make any trouble for you and yours, long as you don’t make any for us.”

“I’m sensing there’s more to this speech than just stating the obvious,” she says, her free hand still firmly grasping the hilt of her shotgun.

“We’ve been out here in the cold for weeks now,” I say. Calmly. Hesitantly. If I wasn’t feeling as bone tired as this, as desperate for just a bit of warmth, I would never even consider bunking up with two strangers, especially with Ellie in tow. But even though it might not look like it, I know my limits. I know that if we keep on out here in this weather, there’s a chance we won’t make it another twenty miles, let alone the hundreds between here and Salt Lake.

“Absolutely not,” she says, shaking her head adamantly as she backs her and her son up a step towards her front door. “You two could be infected for all I know. As good of a person I’d like to think I am, there’s no way I’m letting you in here with my son.”

“We’re not infected,” I say, though I know those words have been spoken by plenty who hadn’t meant them. Or hadn’t realized yet. But all I’ve got is my word and the hope that she’ll trust it. “I know I can’t prove it, but I’m askin’ you to trust that I’d never put a kid in harm's way.”

“You allow yours to carry around a pistol,” she says, pointing towards Ellie. “You bring her to break into random cabins in the middle of the woods. Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

I know a losing battle when I see one. I can sit here and beg all I want, but she’s never going to cave. I can’t say I’d do any different if I were in her position. Hell, I actually kind of respect her more for it.

“Alright,” I concede, even though it hurts to. Just a night in a warm, dry place would’ve been enough for me to regain some of the energy and fight I desperately need out here. But I ain’t about to stand here and grovel, strip myself down and prove to her that there aren’t any bites marring my skin, just scars and proof of the hard life I’ve lived. Besides, if she got even one look at Ellie’s wrist, we’d both be dead. It’s better this way. Safer. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“Dude,” Ellie scolds—or whines, rather. I shoot her a warning look that does little to wipe the outrage off her face.

“C’mon,” I order, stepping backwards towards the tree line. I might not have a gun pointed at me right now, but no way in hell am I going to turn my back on that murderous looking woman.

Not when I know exactly what I’d do if I were in her position.

READER

Empathy’s a fucking bitch sometimes.

I don’t want to let these two strangers onto my property. I don’t want to risk the chance that they’ll endanger Colt and I. But fuck, it’s cold outside, and the storm clouds brewing above us prove it’s only going to get colder.

If it had just been the guy, I would’ve had no issue telling him to fuck right off. I would’ve had no issue shooting him dead if he refused to do so. But that kid with him fucked my hard exterior all the way up—even if she doesn’t talk or act much like a kid at all. She can’t be older than thirteen or fourteen, just a few years older than I was when the virus spread and changed the world for good. I remember what it felt like to be that young, dealing with things no generation before me had ever dealt with. I remember how scared I was, how hopeless I felt. And that was in the relatively new and safe confinements of the QZ. I couldn’t imagine being out here in the open that young. And fuck, I can’t imagine how anxious her dad, or whatever the fuck the guy was to her, must be, having no shelter or safety to run to if shit was to go down out here.

And so, humanity coming out on top, I open my mouth and seal my son and I’s fate.

“Wait,” I call out, just as the two of them reach the tree line. The girl—Ellie, I think her name is—stops first, spinning around like she’d been expecting this all along. The guy is next to turn, giving me a skeptical quirk of his brow as if he expected hadn’t expected this at all. “Even if I wanted to let the two of you into the cabin, there’s no room.”

I see the light die a bit more in both of their eyes. The man purses his lips before giving me a solitary nod. “Alright.”

“But there’s a shed right over there,” I say, pointing behind me to the small, wooden building on the other side of the cabin. “It’s not much, but there’s a furnace and firewood. I can heat up some water and let the two of you use the bathroom inside the cabin to clean up. Maybe see if I can spare some food.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Ellie beams, already making her way across the snow. The man she’s with looks hesitant to follow, but he looks more hesitant to let her carry on without him, and so he joins her.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he passes the porch, locking eyes with me as if he’s just as suspicious over my good will as I am about him and the girl’s intentions. I only nod in response and pull Colt tighter to me. He’ll no doubt have a million and one questions about our guests, seeing as we’ve never had any before.

In fact, these two are the only people he’s ever seen, aside from me. He never even got to see his own father, and now I’m bringing two strangers into his life.

Strangers that could kill us. Strangers that could infect us.

All because of my stupid, empathetic, hopeful heart that’s telling me that there’s something different about these two.

Something safe.

JOEL

“This is...” Ellie trails off as she scans the shed that’s hardly large enough to fit a twin sized bed—if we had the luxury of having a twin sized bed, that is.

“It’s better than bein’ out in the cold,” I say, not giving her a chance to shit on the small space. It’s a miracle that woman didn’t shoot us dead, let alone that she let us stay on her property.

I move over to the old furnace in the corner of the space and squat to check it out. The thing looks ancient, even to my old eyes, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The older the appliance, the less likely it is to need things we don’t have access to, like gas or electricity. And this old beast looks like it runs strictly off of good old-fashioned burning logs.

“Alright, you stay put,” I order with a grunt as I stand upright. “I’m goin’ t’grab some logs. Maybe see about some hot water.”

“What the fuck do I do, then?” she asks, lifting her hands before letting them fall to her sides. “Just sit here and freeze?”

“Could make yourself useful and clean the old ashes out of the furnace,” I say with a shrug as I shove open the rickety wooden door. “Or you can sit there. Either way, you’re stayin’ put.”

She grumbles something that I don’t manage to catch as I walk back out into the cold, but what’s new. Always a smart-assed remark from her loaded up and ready to go. Her and Bill would’ve had a hell of a time going back and forth.

As I trudge through the snow, I try not to think about my now deceased friend and instead fix my attention onto the pile of logs I remember seeing on the other side of the cabin. Only when I reach the porch do I hear the sound of two voices—one feminine and soft and one tiny and energetic—going back and forth.

“So they’re going to be living with us?” the boy asks, and from where I’m standing just around the corner, I can see him following his mother back and forth from the river to the back porch of the cabin as she fills buckets up with ice-cold water from the creek behind the cabin.

“Not permanently,” she says with a sigh. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Can I go play with the girl, then? Until the storm passes?”

“No, baby,” she says, and another, deeper sigh slips free as she prepares for the inevitable follow-up question kids his age always have ready to go.

“Why?” he whines, stomping his boot to emphasize his point.

“Because,” she says, stopping in place to look down at him. “We don’t know them. We don’t know if they’re safe.”

“She didn’t look infected,” he says softly, looking down at his shoes with a frown. “I just wanted to play.”

Suddenly, I’m hyper aware that I’ve been standing here eavesdropping on an intimate moment between the two of them. Clearing my throat, I continue on toward them—toward the logs that sit in a pile a few feet from them. Instinctively, the woman reaches for her son and pulls him close. I don’t blame her or take offense. She doesn’t know me. It’s the same reason I told Ellie to stay put.

“Just grabbin’ some logs,” I say as a way of greeting.

“I’m about to start heating up some water for you two,” she says, gesturing at the buckets that sit full on the back porch.

“Thank you,” I reply as I scoop up a few logs and tuck them under my arm, ready to go my own way and leave the two of them be.

“Wait—” Her voice stops me, and I turn to face her with furrowed brows. “What was your name?”

Right. Hadn’t had time to do the whole introductions thing with guns pointed at each other.

“Joel,” I say, before tilting my head towards the shed. “And her name’s Ellie.”

She tells me her name and then her son’s, Colt. When I lock eyes with the boy, he gives me a friendly smile and a timid wave.

Poor kid. Being sheltered like this hasn’t taught him a thing about being friendly to strangers.

But he’s not my problem.

Neither of them are.

READER

It’s an hour after exchanging names that I invite Ellie into the cabin to use the bathroom. There’s no running water out here, just buckets of water collected from the creek out back that I’ve boiled on the wood-burning stove. Whoever owned this cabin in the days of old made a wise choice at keeping all the appliances ancient and manual. It was one of the many reasons Kit and I settled here to begin with. That and the cold weather that keeps stragglers from venturing this far north during the autumn and winter months.

Her guardian—Joel—has chosen to remain close by as she uses the bathroom, lingering on the porch in the cold rather than sit in the old shed. I get it. He doesn’t trust me, and even though I’d never harm that kid without a good reason to, it’s a smart move on his part.

Trust is a fragile thing these days. It’s something I’ve only ever given to one person. Something I’ve only ever received from two.

“You hungry?” I ask, stepping out onto the porch with a bowl of steaming stew in hand. It’s not anything to write home about in terms of flavor and quality of ingredients, but it’s hot and it’s enough to fill a stomach. These days, that’s about as much as anyone can ask for.

Joel tilts his head towards me, his brows furrowed as his eyes drift from mine to the bowl in my hand. There’s flecks of snow laying gently on top of his brown and grey curls, at the tips of his eyelashes. Clearly, he doesn’t want to accept the food, but with him out here turning into Jack Frost, there’s no way I’m backing down. “Listen, you don’t have to eat it, but I’m going to leave it out here with you in case you change your mind. When Ellie comes out, there’s food waiting for her, too.”

“You put anything in it?” he asks, hesitating before lifting his hand to take the bowl from mine.

“Running low on poison these days,” I say dryly, earning another one of those unreadable, unamused looks of his. I can’t say my face tells any different of a story. “Look, believe me or not, I didn’t poison the damn food. Just trying to do the decent thing here.”

He sets the bowl down beside him and turns to face me a bit more, his jaw ticking as he studies me like an opponent. “I appreciate all that you’re doin’, lettin’ us stay here and all, but let’s not get this twisted. We’ve both got people to protect. I’m not takin’ any chances with mine, and I trust you’re not takin’ any with yours. Let’s just agree to take care of our own and leave all this other shit out of it.”

Okay, asshole.

“It was a bowl of soup, not my fucking hand in marriage,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “But you don’t want decency, that’s fine. I’m still going to offer what I can to Ellie because she’s a kid and deserves to be shown some decency.”

“She’s fine.“

“She’s capable of telling me to fuck off just like you have,” I counter as I lean down and scoop the bowl off the porch. “Hope that pride keeps you warm and full tonight. Dick.”

JOEL

I might’ve been a little harsh earlier, but something about the way she was looking at me set me off. It looked too much like pity, maybe even judgement. She probably thinks I’m some reckless, negligent guardian who can’t take care of a kid. To be fair, I might be. But I’ll be damned if I let this woman I don’t know judge me and treat me like some charity case when Ellie and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.

It’s just this fucking storm rolling in that had us out here seeking shelter. The minute this blizzard rolls through and skies clear up a bit, we’re gone. And the less of a debt we owe, the better.

Though I turned my nose up at the hot stew I was offered—a decision my stomach is angry at me for—I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to take a warm bath. Even if it was creek water. Even if the water only made it up to my hips. Warmth is warmth, and my aching bones have needed it more than I realized.

Dragging a wash cloth over my arms, I marvel at the amount of dirt and grime I’ve been wearing for however long it’s been. Twenty years ago, I’d be disgusted. These days, I’m surprised it’s not worse. Even in the QZ, people just got used to being dirty all the damn time. You washed the important bits—the bits you planned on giving others access to—but the rest often went neglected. After all, what’s the sense in scrubbing yourself clean every day when you’re just going to get caked in blood and sweat and mud and ash the next day?

I was surprised to see that our host had a decent stockpile of bar soaps underneath the sink. The smuggler I used to be would’ve swiped a good chunk of it for myself, but those days are long in the past now. Besides, she’s got that kid of hers to worry about keeping clean. No sense in letting all that soap go to waste on a man who doesn’t even have access to clean water most of the time.

Using the already used bar that sits on the ledge, I lather my body up and take in the scent of Irish Spring—something clean and artificial and nostalgic all at the same time. It makes me feel a bit more human. A bit less like an animal trained for survival.

Surviving is all I’ve done, even when it was the last thing I meant to do.

I find myself wondering about Tommy, about his survival. I wonder if he’s somewhere with Irish Spring and warm meals or if he’s gotten himself into trouble. I wonder if he’s even alive.

God, I hope he is.

A knock at the door startles me out of my thoughts.

“Dude, did you pass out in there? The kid needs to use the bathroom!” Ellie shouts, clearly disobeying my command to head back to the shed and wait for me. I sigh, using the last bit of water in the bucket to rinse myself off before pulling the plug out of the drain.

It only take me a minute to dry off and get dressed into the spare set of clothes I have tucked into my pack. They’re not much cleaner, but it’s better than what I’ve been wearing for weeks now. Eventually, I’ll have to break down and wash them in some creek when the weather gets warmer, but we’re a long ways away from that.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I step out of the bathroom, finding Ellie sitting on an old armchair in the tiny living room that doubles as the bedroom. In the corner, on an old queen mattress, sits our host and her son, but only Colt looks my way.

“Have a nice bath?” he asks, friendly and surprisingly well articulated for his age.

I grunt in response before turning to Ellie. “I told you to wait in the shed.”

“I was offered food,” she says, feigning manners I know she doesn’t possess. “It would be rude to turn it down.”

“You’d think,” our host mutters under her breath, just loud enough for my shitting hearing to catch it.

“C’mon,” I say, snapping my fingers at Ellie.

“Thank you for the bath and the food,” Ellie says, earning a polite nod and a small smile from our host. “Colt, it was nice talking dinosaurs with you.”

“You too,” he says with a giggle, kicking his feet off the edge of the bed. “Bye Ellie. Bye Joel.”

Once again, I don’t reply.

“You could be a little nicer,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes as we walk through the snow to the shed. “She told me how you turned her food down. Big mistake, by the way. Shit was gooooood.”

“Got food of my own,” I grumble.

“Ah, yes. Cold, canned beans. So much better than hot stew.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, and it’s true. I’ve had less and worse to eat in the last twenty years.

“Just saying,” she says as we nestle ourselves into the small shed. I’m quick to get the furnace reignited, my hair too wet to be out in this cold for much longer. “She’s nice, Colt’s cool. Maybe you play your cards right and you’ll have a girlfriend and a stepson to come back to after we’re done in Salt Lake.”

“Very funny.”

“Seriously! She’s hot in like a mom sort of way. Why not?”

“I’m good,” I say, shaking my head as I sit down against the wall and bask in the warmth of the fire. “Not on the market.”

“But if you were—“

“She’d still be twenty some odd years younger than me.”

“Boring,” Ellie yawns, curling up on the floor with her backpack as a pillow. “Whatever. Just trying to set your depressed ass up for some happiness.”

“Can you act like a normal kid for one second?” I ask, my voice groggy with sleep. “Set yourself up for some sleep.”

“Fuck you,” she mumbles, already halfway gone.

“Yeah, goodnight to you too, kid.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller story #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou joel #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #endure & survive

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 day ago

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just so we’re clear — fuck the little orange convict and the emo eyeliner couch fucker and the fridge built lex luther cosplayer and the cuban link midlife crisis lizard man and every other vile sack of human garbage and greed who bows down to this posse of absolute clowns

#tw: donald trump

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guess-my-next-obsession · 4 days ago

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Joel Miller neck erotica ep 7&8

#joel miller #endure & survive is going to have plenty of neck worship trust and believe

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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 days ago

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endure & survive | i. endure & survive

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), grief, gun talk/threats

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist | next chapter

READER

Everything was brutal in the wild open land that used to be this country before the world as we knew it crumbled before us.

I’d spent fifteen years in the Denver QZ before I’d had enough. Food was scarce and often tainted with mold, animal droppings, or just plain inedible. Hunting and growing food wasn’t an option either, not in the crowded, dilapidated, concrete confinements of the QZ. The powers above tended to hoard all of the fresh shit to themselves anyways and hand out the scraps as if it was a blessing rather than a betrayal of the system they were put in place to uphold. But when you’re starving, even scraps and trash become appetizing. Sickening, most often, but appetizing nonetheless. Luxuries like new clothes, fresh sheets, a decent pair of shoes, and a place to take a warm shower were non-existent. All we had was all we had. You either made do, or you took from someone else. Someone dead, or someone you planned on killing. People like me--people who couldn’t stomach the violence against my neighbors as easily as some of us--chose to just make do.

It was a miracle that I made it out of the QZ alive.

It was even more miraculous that I’d been able to survive out here in the open for as long as I had.

Eight years, to be exact. But I hadn’t been alone for all of it.

I used to have a partner, someone willing to brave the unknown and dangerous at my side, until a nasty bout of pneumonia we couldn’t treat took him from me. Kit and I were as close to married as two people could be in this post-apocalyptic world, and we’d made it longer than most people did outside the supposedly safe walls of the QZ. Together, we rebuilt the dilapidated cabin nestled somewhere in Wyoming that I still call home and built a secure perimeter, shielded by thick evergreens and overgrowth. He was with me for a little under two years out here, but even though he’s gone now, a piece of him remains with me.

Our son.

As I lay on the threadbare mattress tucked in the corner of the open cabin and count each of Colt’s breaths, I feel a familiar pang of longing and grief. Longing for his father. Grief that he’ll never get to meet him.

He’s six now. Just entered that stage of troublemaker and explorer and everything that would stress out any parent in a normal world. But in this world—a world where one slip up could mean the end, or worse—it’s more than stress I feel. I’m terrified.

It’s been months since anyone has gotten close to our safe haven, and even longer since I’ve come across an infected, but the threat is always there. When Colt was younger, it was easier to manage the thought of having to pull that trigger when someone—or something—got too close. But now I worry about what it’ll do to him to have to watch me kill in order to protect us. I worry it’ll change him, mark him for a dark and violent future he should have never had to chance.

But I’ll do what I have to do in order to keep him alive.

I’ll trek across the entire country, chart a boat and sail to new worlds, kill and fight and give my life if it means he has the chance to live his.

For now, though, he’s safe and sound asleep in my arms, soothed by the rise and fall of my chest as I prepare for another sleepless night.

JOEL

The mileage is wearing on me. I know it. The pain in the ass teenager besides me sure as hell knows it, if her snarky comments about needing to find me a cane or a walker are anything to go by.

My boots have seen better days, but it’s been that way for years now. Usually, I’d have found some way to snag a newer, less worn pair off a dead man or tucked away inside some crumbling building, but I haven’t been able to take as many chances with Ellie with me.

We’ve already had enough encounters with danger between Boston and wherever the fuck we are now. Clickers, tyrants, and more death than either of us would like. Kansas City alone was almost enough to take both of us out. I have no desire to test our luck all for the sake of warmer feet. Besides, Ellie’s shoes are alright. No holes, no soles coming apart. If she’s good, I’ll find a way to manage.

But there’s no denying the limp in my walk, no matter how hard I try to hide it. It’s cold as hell out here in the woods, and at my age, with my past injuries, it’s taking a toll on me. My joints scream with every step, my back aches like it’s on fire, and that’s only the physical.

My mind is feeling the wear and tear of this journey more than I’d like to admit. I’m panicky and exhausted and paranoid as all hell, and I can’t be any of that if I want to keep us safe.

The kid’s gotten pretty good with a gun, but given our limited ammo supply, she hasn’t gotten as much practice as either of us would like. But at least I know if it comes down to it, she’ll know what to do. I cling to the hope that she’ll never have to put that knowledge into practice, but I know better than that. She’s already had to bail my ass out more times than I’d like.

“I can see steam coming out of your ears with all that thinking, old man,” she says as she sits across from me at the campsite we’ve claimed for the night. There’s a fire crackling between us, big enough to ward off some of this icy chill but small enough not to bring too much attention. “Whatcha thinking about?”

I heave a sigh that has little to do with her and everything to do with the fact that I’m thinking about too fuckin’ much these days.

Safety.

Food.

Warmth.

Sarah.

“Thinkin’ how much longer I’m gonna have to put up with this twenty questions shit you like to play,” I say instead of the truth. It’s easier if she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. She’s just a kid, whether she sees it that way or not. She doesn’t need to add my shit onto her plate.

“Well, we’re like…what? Only a few hundred miles away from Salt Lake now?” she asks, tracing her finger over the map on her lap. “All goes well, me and my charming commentary will be out of your hair in a few weeks.”

Doubtful, but I don’t voice that thought. I still don’t have much faith in anything related to those goddamn Fireflies, but a plan is a plan. Tess made me swear to see this thing through with Ellie, and as much as I hate the fuckers, they’re still the only people that might be able to point me in the direction of Tommy.

“What kind of music did you listen to back in the day?” Ellie asks as she folds her map back up and into her backpack, seemingly content to move onto another subject. “Wait—no, let me guess. Something old and boring like the Beatles.”

I scoff out of amusement. “First off, the Beatles aren’t boring. But no. More of a country music guy, myself. Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Marty Robbins. That kinda thing.”

She shrugs. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“They were before your time,” I say, shifting my legs so that they lay outstretched along the thin blanket I’ve got beneath me to keep the snow from dampening my clothes. “Before my time, truth be told.”

“So you just like old shit, then,” she says, and I shoot her an unamused look.

“Y’know, it’s been about twenty years since we’ve had any new shit come out, so anything you like listenin’ to is pretty damn old, too,” I reply before tacking on, “Smartass.”

“How old’s Nirvana?”

“90’s.”

“Pearl Jam?”

“90’s.”

“Shit. What about Metallica?”

“Jesus, that’s what you like listenin’ to?” I ask, shaking my head. “No wonder you act like that.”

“Like what? Totally fucking cool and wise beyond my years?”

“Was gonna say feral, but yeah, sure,” I say, fighting a chuckle.

Despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that I’d long since forgotten how to laugh, this kid almost brings it out of me. She’s the total opposite of Sarah, and yet I can’t help but think the two of them would get along like peas in a pod. After all, their favorite pastime is the same—busting my balls.

“Y’should get some sleep,” I say, ending her game of twenty questions before she talks me to sleep. “Sun’s gonna be up in a few hours, and we need to get a move on. Storm’s comin’ in soon, and last thing we need is to get stuck out here in it.”

“A little breaking and entering in the books tomorrow, then?”

“If we can manage it,” I reply with a sigh, watching her as she rolls onto her side and stuffs her backpack beneath her head like sleeping out here in the wet snow is completely normal and not fuckin’ miserable. “Y’need an extra blanket over there?”

“No, mother,” she sighs. “Youth keeps me warm. Too bad those days are long behind you now.”

I roll my eyes and look up at the dark sky, counting stars to keep myself from chuckling. “Shut up and go to sleep, then.”

READER

A crunch outside wakes me from my sleep. I’m a light sleeper at best these days, a raging insomniac at worst, but that’s what’s kept us alive this long. My ears have trained themselves to detect even the slightest of unusual noises around the cabin. Even in my sleep, I’m able to distinguish the sound of an animal crossing our land from an intruder—or worse.

Thankfully, this doesn’t sound like an infected or a clicker. I don’t have the mental or physical energy right now to deal with a rabid creature, for lack of a better word.

I shift my weight carefully so as to not disturb Colt as he sleeps beside me, and climb out of our bed. My boots and clothes are still on, as are his—you never know when it’s going to be time to run, and the few minutes it takes to get ready might mean the difference between staying alive and becoming a monster. Grabbing the shotgun I keep beside the bed, I carefully step across the wooden floorboards of the cabin, avoiding the loose ones I know creak under even the slightest bit of weight. I don’t need Colt waking up and asking questions. Not when I don’t know who’s waiting outside.

All of the windows are boarded up, save for a few peepholes I intentionally left for moments exactly like these. I’d be an idiot to swing my door open without getting a peek at what waits for me on the other side, shotgun or not. Sticking my eye up to the sliver in the old wooden boards, I scan the front of the property, taking in the thick blanket of snow covering the ground and looking for footprints marring its surface. When I find none in the front of the property, I move to the window on the side of the cabin, searching there, too.

And that’s when I see our intruder.

A man--older than me by a decade or two--carefully scans the clearing around the cabin, no doubt searching for traps. He’s lucky he’s managed to get this far without running into any. That, or he’s simply done this enough to know exactly what to look out for.

When he nears the side of the cabin, only a few feet from the window I’m pressed up against, I force my breath to steady and carefully move back to the front door with my shotgun cocked and in hand. I don’t give him time to find his way up the steps of the front porch--that would be too close to Colt for comfort. Instead, I slowly, silently, open the door and step out into the icy cold. Tiptoeing across the snow-damp wood, I round the corner and lift my shotgun just like Kit had taught me all those years ago, aiming directly for my intruder’s head before issuing a single, clear warning.

“You’ve got five seconds to turn around and forget you ever saw this place before I shoot your fucking head off.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #endure & survive

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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 days ago

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posting the first chapter in just a little bit !! 🫶🏼

endure & survive | masterlist

*all pictures are for moodboard purposes only. reader has no description.*

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

series content: NSFW, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), canon violence/death/general bleakness, explicit content, grief, chapter specific warnings will be listed in each update

summary: READER -- my son is all i care about in this world. i will kill to protect him, die defending him, and even enter an alliance with the world's gruffest man in order to bring him to safety. even if it's a struggle not to maim--or fuck--Joel Miller somewhere along the way. JOEL -- we had a plan. boston to salt lake, drop the kid off, find tommy. somewhere along the way, that plan changed. now we've got a chatty six year old and his ice queen of a mother to worry about. ellie likes the company, but she doesn't see things the way i do. she's not affected by our new companion's smart mouth and keen eyes the way i am. she doesn't have to fight off wanting her the way i do. and the last thing i need in this world is another fight.

chapters marked * contain explicit content

i. endure & survive [COMING SOON]

ii. don't shoot [COMING SOON]

iii. [COMING SOON]

iv. [COMING SOON]

v. [COMING SOON]

vi. [COMING SOON]

vii. [COMING SOON]

viii. [COMING SOON]

ix. [COMING SOON]

x. [COMING SOON]

#gmno comment reblogs

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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 days ago

Text

endure & survive | masterlist

*all pictures are for moodboard purposes only. reader has no description.*

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapters marked * contain explicit content

i. endure & survive

ii. don't shoot

iii. close call [COMING SOON]

iv. [COMING SOON]

v. [COMING SOON]

vi. [COMING SOON]

vii. [COMING SOON]

viii. [COMING SOON]

ix. [COMING SOON]

x. [COMING SOON]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #tlou joel #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #endure & survive

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guess-my-next-obsession · 6 days ago

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wat dat mell … mells like a new outbreak!joel fic in the works to distract myself from reality

#gmno updates #outbreak!murderous!survival mode!joel my beloved i’ve missed you

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guess-my-next-obsession · 8 days ago

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brother got me the mando owala for an early birthday gift and look at her !!! she’s a beaut !!!

#kat yaps at the void

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guess-my-next-obsession · 9 days ago

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i'm really struggling with writing in the second person these days (a product of mostly writing to publish) and it's causing me to put off all my WIP fanfic ideas. writing in first person is what comes naturally to me (regardless of if it's x reader or x oc) but i just want to get a feel for everyone's preferences before i get started on my newest WIP idea

#gmno polls

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guess-my-next-obsession · 9 days ago

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posts marked with * are NSFW and 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

cowboy like me* — reader has a reputation, just like javier, and when the two meet at a party in laredo, they realize they may have met their match. 3.8k

you are in love — fluffy timeline of reader and javier falling for each other. 1.8k

ours — “Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves. They’ll judge it like they know about me and you, and the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do. The jury’s out, but my choice is you.” 1.3k

cruel summer* — reader finds herself in a summer fling with javier peña, but soon realizes that he may want something serious from her. angst, smut, and fluff follow. 4.9k

friends from quantico* — reader and javier were the best of friends when they met ten years ago, and when they meet again in Bogota, it’s clear that the relationship has changed into something more. 2.6k

A Symptom of Age* — joel is exhausted and has a case of impotence, reader proves she doesn’t care the best way she knows how. 3.4k

What I Love* — joel details what he loves about reader. soft sex. 1.4k

Christmas Tree Farm* — part of 8 Days of Christmas ‘22. from The Stable Girl universe. smut and domestic fluff. 4.2k

Drunken Serenade* — smutty fluff about how reader won over the grumpiest guy in Jackson. 2.5k

The Babysitter* — pre-outbreak!joel x babysitter!reader. smut and feelings. 1.2k

Dust To Dust* — reader and joel have a well-practiced routine. smut and soft ending.2k

Not-so Formal Introduction* — reader meets joel’s family for the first time in an awkward way. 1.7k

A Warm Bed* — reader gets lonely and so does joel. FILTH. 3.4k

The Third Date* — you invite joel in after your third date. smut and fluff. 2.6k

After Work Relief* – Joel helps relieve your tension. 1.5k

power outage* —frankie and reader find a good way to kill time during a storm. 1.5k

blind dating show — reader finds herself in a local bar’s dating game-show, the contestants Will, Benny, and Frankie. only one man can walk away with the prize, and we all know the perfect pilot for the job. 2.5k

blind dating show p.II* — part two of ^ where reader accepts an invite to frankie’s barbecue. things get spicy. 3k

oblivious — reader and frankie are the best of friends until a fight on a camping trip reveals things that neither of them ever dared to admit. fluff follows. 3.7k

cabin in the woods* — frankie and reader decide to rent a cabin for the holiday, but neither realize they’re walking into a “haunted house” courtesy of the rest of the TF boys. 2.9k

i’ll be home for christmas* — Frankie comes home after a long month of work just in time for the holidays. 2.5k

a new friend (½) — reader gets lost in the woods and frankie shelters her from not only the storm, but her shitty relationship. 4k

when we were young — reader sees their ex, frankie, in a bar after five years. 2.5k

the addams family* — part of Spooktacular ‘22. frankie gets turned on by wife!reader in a morticia costume.

facetime movie night — part of Spooktacular ‘22.

christmas cookies — decorating christmas cookies w frankito.

dressing room tears — reader struggles with weight gain and finding jeans that fit her, frankie is there to remind her how beautiful she is.

i can take it* — edging with sub!frankie.

lost in love* — frankie likes the way you look beneath him.

just a dream — reader struggles with infertility and has a dream that feels frighteningly real.

caught* — reader is dating santi, but frankie urges her to tell him about their affair.

real love, baby —plus size!reader meets frankie in a bar. fluff fluff fluff.

my hair* — din needs your touch, starting with your hands in his hair. 1.8k

bliss — soft!din in a cabin. that’s it. 2.7k

new year’s day — reader takes din to her home planets new years celebration. 1k

treacherous* — after a long amount of will they/won’t they, you and din do. 2.7k

relax — reader is on her period, din reminds her it’s important to take it easy. 1.4k

cold — reader misses din and the warmth that only he can bring 1.5k

sleep — din likes to watch reader sleep 1k

just like this* — din djarin comes home to reader and their family after a long trip away. fluff w/ a bit of soft smut. 2.5k

redefining home — reader has a tense relationship with their father. when it all comes to a head, din reminds her that she’ll always find home with him. 1.7k

the cabin — din finds peace and a family on the outskirts of navarro <1k

dieter:

don’t you want me, baby* — a few years after meeting you in a West Hollywood diner, dieter begins to grow impatient at your seemingly disinterest and his own burning desire for you.

first one to jump strips* — part of Spooktacular ‘22.

amazon* — dieter and reader try out the amazon position.

marcus pike:

the delay — part of 8 Days of Christmas ‘22.

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