#even there she tried so so hard to find a way to get the raiders under control without violence

[beasangel]

the quiet between us

⤷ Joel Miller x youngerfem!reader | age gap

💭 “I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

summary : he’s too old for her, too haunted by the past to let himself feel, but he does anyway. She’s too young to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, too stubborn to stay away from the one person who makes her feel safe.

warnings: injury (stabbed), light smut, age gap.

joel masterlist main masterlist

my first time writing smut so idk how i feel about it

You were twenty-six when you first met Joel Miller.

He was… not what you expected.

You’d heard his name whispered around town like a cautionary tale. Ellie’s guardian. Tommy’s brother. The man who walked across half the country with nothing but a gun, a girl, and a mission.

He was older. Weathered. Eyes like flint and a voice that could make people flinch. And when he looked at you for the first time, it was sharp assessing. Like he was trying to figure out if you were going to be a problem.

You weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You were just tired. You’d been on the road since you were nineteen—too young to have seen what you did, too old now to pretend you hadn’t.

Tommy offered you shelter. A bed. A patrol schedule.

Joel offered you silence.

You didn’t mean to care about him. But then you started getting paired up for patrols.

He didn’t like that at first. Said you were too green, even though you'd proven otherwise a dozen times over. You didn’t argue. Just kept showing up. Bleeding, bruised, breathing.

At first, he barely spoke to you outside of missions. “Watch your six.” “Stay low.” “You good?”

No softness. Just the rhythm of someone who’d been doing this too long to waste breath.

But you noticed things anyway.

How he always walked a half-step ahead. How he double-checked your ammo count when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d never let you take the first watch on patrol nights. It wasn’t kindness exactly. It was… guilt. Protection. Like he’d decided that if you died on his watch, it would be one too many.

You were used to people brushing you off. Too young to be listened to. Too old to be coddled. But Joel? He didn’t brush you off. He watched you. He remembered things you said.

And when he let you patch a wound on his shoulder after a firefight, his eyes never left yours.

That was the first time you thought: he feels it too.

-

The age thing was always there.

Not in the way people stared—Jackson wasn’t like that—but in the way he held it. Quiet, heavy. Like a weight he carried between you.

You weren’t a kid. You were grown, capable, had seen more than anyone should. But still, when you laughed, Joel’s expression would twist—like it made him ache. Like it reminded him of a life he lost.

It happened after a patrol gone wrong. You and Joel had been paired together, again.

This time, it was a group of raiders on the road to the old hydro station. Too many, too fast. You both fought hard, but you took a knife to the side before Joel dragged you out of there, blood soaking through your shirt, your voice cracking with pain as you half-collapsed behind an abandoned truck.

He pressed down on the wound with his jacket, his hands surprisingly gentle. “Stay with me,” he said, voice rough. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

You looked. Not because he told you to, but because you wanted to. His eyes were wild, scared, and that scared you more than the pain.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he muttered. “Just—fuck. Don’t do that again. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on it,” you whispered, trying to laugh. You regretted it instantly.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. Then softer, almost a whisper: “You can’t die. You hear me?”

You did hear him. And not just the words.

-

You woke up in the infirmary to find him still there, face drawn with days of sleepless worry.

When you tried to thank him, he just shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be this important,” he said quietly. “You’re too young. You’ve got time.”

You sat up, chest tight. “None of us have time, all this is just extra.”

He turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

And Joel - strong, stubborn, selfless Joel - still couldn’t look at you. “You deserve more than a man who’s got one foot in the grave.”

You laughed, wet and bitter. “You think I don’t know what this world is? We all do, I don’t care about age. I care about you. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel safe in years.”

That made him pause. Then finally, finally, he sat beside you, hand curling around yours with a gentleness that nearly undid you.

“I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

You leaned in, eyes searching his. “You already are.”

-

He was waiting by the door when the nurse cleared her to leave days later, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was trying to hold something in. She moved slower than usual, still sore, but he stepped forward before she could reach for her things.

“I’ll take you,” he said, quiet but firm. She didn’t argue.

Outside, the cold bit through her jacket, but Joel walked close, hand hovering at the small of her back like he wanted to touch her but didn’t quite let himself. Not here. Not yet. Not when every step toward her house felt like crossing some invisible line.

 She glanced up at him once, searching, but he kept his eyes ahead, like if he looked too long, she’d see everything he was trying not to say.

When they reached her door, he opened it for her, stood in the threshold like he didn’t know if he was supposed to go in or walk away. And she just looked at him, soft and tired and still a little wrecked, and said, “You can come in.”

 So he did.

The door had barely shut behind you when Joel pressed you back against it, slow, not rushed, like he needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I’ve been sure,” you whispered back. “Just needed you to be.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, more urgent. His hands slid down to your waist, drawing you in, and when your fingers tugged his flannel open, he didn’t stop you. His breath hitched when your hands touched bare skin. Scarred, solid, warm.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, tracing a long-healed mark on his ribs.

He shook his head like he didn’t believe you, but the way he looked at you said he wanted to.

You ended up in your bed, half-undressed, tangled in each other, lit only by the soft golden spill of the bedside lamp. Joel took his time. Like he didn’t know if he’d get another chance.

His fingers were careful on your skin, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, pausing only when you shivered. You weren’t nervous, just overwhelmed. His eyes never left yours, even as he leaned down to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs.

“You tell me to stop,” he said, voice gravel and heat, “and I will.”

“I won’t,” you breathed. “I want you, Joel.”

His hands slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as his mouth followed. When his tongue slid between your folds, slow and deliberate, your hips bucked instinctively. He held you in place, groaning against you, and kept going, torturously slow, then faster when you whimpered his name.

He didn’t stop until you came against his mouth, panting, one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping the sheets.

Joel crawled up your body and kissed you like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still with me?” he rasped, thumb brushing your lip.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I need you. Please.”

He slid a condom on, your heart caught at the way his hands trembled slightly, and lined himself up, pausing just long enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“This okay?” he asked.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in. “Better than okay.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you just right. You gasped into his mouth, and Joel groaned low in his throat, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck- you feel so good,” he murmured, “so tight, so warm…”

He moved carefully at first, like he was savouring every second. You moved with him, hips rolling, hands gripping his back. The drag of his body against yours, the quiet, desperate sounds slipping from both your lips, it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Joel,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Harder. I can take it.”

He growled softly, thrusting deeper, slow and rough and just right. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and he kissed your throat, your jaw, your mouth, whispering your name like it meant something holy.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t frenzied.

It was real.

When you came again, he followed, grinding deep inside you with a ragged groan, like the sound had been ripped out of him.

After, he held you.

Not out of obligation. Not because he didn’t know what else to do.

But because he wanted to.

His fingers traced lazy circles along your spine. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his scent—sweat, smoke, skin—like something permanent.

“Was that okay?” he asked softly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “Yeah Joel. That was okay.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Then I guess I gotta make sure it wasn’t the last time.”

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: Part three is going to be when it gets juicy, this is just them becoming reacquainted. You’ll get the good angst in the next parts. Summary: Your dreams of stardom and fame have been blown away. Your old life is lost to the sands of this new world and you find yourself utterly confused. There’s a man who looks an awful lot like Cooper yelling at you, but it’s not the man you remember loving. Not anymore.

For two days he’s been following the sound of sirens. With no new bounties, he hasn’t got much else to do with his time. Plus, he’s hoping that maybe if he figures out what’s been causing all this noise he can shut it the fuck up. Didn’t matter how far he walked, the blaring wail was echoing across the whole damn wasteland. 

A cough started up in his chest, itching into his throat and rattling his whole body as it ripped its way out of him. He tried to walk through the discomfort but it wouldn’t let him. He leaned over, hands braced on his knees, and coughed so hard he could feel ass jerky coming back up from his “dinner” last night. He clamped a hand over his mouth and forced the bile down. Frantic hands dug through the bag on his side, shaking as he ripped the box open and grabbed his inhaler. 

It took a minute before the drugs had the desired effect, and even then he was still fighting back nausea. He’s got to find a new dealer, that bitch in Filly was watering down her supply and he knew it. Not just that, she was overcharging too, on account of his being a ghoul. 

Even in the apocalypse money still managed to rule the world. Even if it was in the form of Nuka caps. He walked a little further before leaning against a boulder for a break. He wiped spittle off his lips and surveyed his surroundings. 

There was a faded old billboard sunken into the sand, only half of it sticking out. The paper was curled and browned from age and the sun, but he could make it out well enough. Quench Your Thirst, it wasn’t one of hers, though. It was the girl they’d replaced her with. He contemplated shooting it, just so he wouldn’t have to stare at the girl anymore, but it was a waste of bullets. 

Instead, he pushed off the rock and forced himself to keep going. The noise was unbearable now, rattling around his brain and making his ears bleed the closer he got. He must be right on it, only a little while longer and he’d finally turn the damn thing off. 

He lifted a leathered hand to block the sun out of his eyes. He kept squinting, disbelieving in the sight before him. Vault 111 was sitting pretty among the skeletons and dunes of sand. It’s big white numbers upside down as the door was slid open, alarms ringing out and red flashing lights dancing around within the vault. 

He couldn’t believe it. Vault dwellers were practically extinct in the Wastelands, nevermind actually getting into their vaults. But here this one sat, open and ready for the taking. Normally, he wouldn’t risk it, even just to turn off those fucking alarms. But he had just used his last vial and if he didn’t get his hands on some good shit soon, well, best not to imagine it. 

Hand on his holster he started forward, eyes darting back and forth to make sure this wasn’t some sort of trap set by raiders. He didn’t imagine they were smart enough to do that, but apparently Muldaver’s been on the move, this could be her people’s doing. He’d rather not have to listen to someone whining on about a better life and a kind society. 

He’d believe it when he saw it. All people were capable of was greed and lust, it’s been the same before the bombs and it will be the same after. 

He stepped inside, eyes pained as they adjusted to the stark contrast of the glaring sun outside and the soft fluorescent lights within the vault. He spotted a big red button and slammed his palm down on it. The sirens, thank fuck, shut off, but the lights kept going. 

There was a gap between his platform and the next. The control panel clearly needed a Pip-Boy to be operated but he didn’t see any nearby. He sighed and took a running leap, just barely making it to the other side.  

He took another suspicious look around, still not quite sure he was completely safe. His chest tightened with the irritating feeling of an oncoming coughing fit. “Fuck it,” he muttered, starting through the open doorway without a glance back. 

Whatever had happened in here had been messy and recent. He kneeled down next to a puddle of blood and dipped an ungloved finger in, still warm. He popped open his holster and tugged out the gun, better to be safe than dead. 

He had been following the direction the lights had been pointing this whole time, hoping maybe he’d stumble across an infirmary. These vault fucks had to have left at least one bag of radaway behind. So far, though, he didn’t have high hopes. Everything was ransacked. The bodies that were left behind had been stripped naked and beaten to unidentifiable pulps.

So far, the vaults had at least been air conditioned. If nothing else he was getting a break from the sweltering heat that trailed him on the surface. He’d already tested out one of the sinks down here, their water was still functioning. Maybe he could get some of the blood caked under his nails cleaned out. 

While the air conditioning had been nice, the breeze that was coming from the door across the way would have had goosebumps rising on him if he was still capable of that. His head tilted in contemplation as he stared at it. Above every door was meant to be an indicator of what went on in there. 

There wasn’t for this one, though. And despite knowing better, he had to admit, he was pretty curious. He strode forward, tucking the gun back in his holster and slamming the button on the right side of the door. The second it slid open, whatever had been sealing the noise inside broke. 

He flinched away from the sounds of sirens and covered his ears, cussing up a storm as he slammed the button once more. It clicked uselessly but didn’t send the door down again. “Fuck,” he hissed, stepping inside and grunting as the cold bore down on him ten times worse than before. 

Cryogenics, well, the temperature made sense now. 

He stared at each of the pods, the windows frosted over with cold and making it impossible to see the people within. He took his time examining them, trying his best to see if anyone he knew was in one of them. Despite it all, he held a little hope that he might see Janey, maybe even Barb. 

Without any luck he headed towards the terminal, he could probably get the sirens to shut the fuck up this way. Or maybe just get this door closed again. 

In neon green a warning sign flashed over and over across the screen. 

LIFE SUPPORT: CRITICAL FAILURE.  

He glanced back over his shoulder and scoffed. Rich fucks hadn’t thought to have a back up, or did they really think their buddy Vault-Tec would keep them safe? He shook his head and clicked away the warning. He peered through the list of commands but couldn’t find anything except a list of who was in the pods. 

He figured he might as well see if he spotted a familiar name. If they were alive he might be able to get some information off of them. It wasn’t until the bottom of the list that he saw anything helpful. Your name stood out bright and bold and beside it the message:

LIFE SUPPORT FAILING

RISK OF ASPHYXIATION: 

The colon blinked a few times and he drummed his finger impatiently on the sides of the terminal. Finally the risk analysis loaded and he let out a rough exhale. 

RISK OF ASPHYXIATION: IMMINENT 

REMOVE SUBJECT IMMEDIATELY 

His eyes widened and without thinking he clicked the little button. A moment later he heard something creak open, the seal of the pod broken as air rushed out. He turned around and faced your pod, of course it was the one right beside him. 

He ran forward, catching you just as you slumped out of the seat. Your skin was like ice, your lips blue and face purple from choking. It was all swollen, like you’d been struggling to get air in for a while before he came. He frowned down at your limp form, shaking you slightly as he waited for you to take in a breath. 

“Hey,” he brought a rough hand down on your cheek, the leather striking loudly against your skin.

Your lips parted and you took in a deep breath, gasping as your hands flew up to your throat. You turned over, falling out of his arms and landing roughly on the metal grates of the floor. He took a step back, watching as you hacked yourself back to life, your lungs nearly coming out with how hard you were coughing. 

His head tilted as he observed you. You looked damn near the same as the last time he saw you. The only real difference being the slutty little black slip you had on. He scoffed and shook his head. So that’s where you’d disappeared to, sold yourself out to Vault-Tec for some apocalyptic protection. 

Lot of good that did you. 

You clawed at your throat, air feeling like razor blades as you greedily inhaled. You’re not sure where you are, you can barely feel your extremities, you’ve got an uncomfortable draft on your backside. You wince as you sit up, wiping your blurry eyes in the hopes they’ll clear up, metal digs into your skin as you do. 

It’s like when you get too cold during winter and your eyes frost over a little bit. Except, this doesn’t feel like a little bit. You can’t even see your own hand right now. All you can make out is faint outlines of everything, blurry little clouds of color. 

“Hello?” Someone was here, you could tell that much. You just didn’t know who. Metal creaked in front of you and you scrambled back. They weren’t saying anything. Why weren’t they saying anything? 

You wracked your brain for the last thing you could remember and felt tears building along your lashes. Oh god. “Tom?” You called out hesitantly. Maybe they’d changed their minds. Maybe the men who’d grabbed you had dumped you off somewhere. 

You didn’t want to think about what they’d done while you were asleep. You were slowly becoming more aware of your surroundings and very aware of the skimpy slip you had on right now. Not even close to what you’d been wearing when they grabbed you. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a meager attempt at comfort. 

“That who you fucked, sweetheart?”

Your brows turned down. “Cooper?” He sounded a little rough, his accent more pronounced, but you’d know his voice anywhere. It was as familiar to you as your own. “Cooper, where am I?” The tears were spilling freely now the longer he stared at you in silence. At least crying was starting to thaw out your eyes. 

You could more clearly make out his form now, looming overtop of you like some sort of dark omen. You always felt safe with Coop. When someone pushed you too much or got a little too aggressive, you could go to him. 

Right now, though, you felt like prey in front of a wolf. There was no kindness in his words and only a cruel accusation in his tone. Dear god, where were you? And why would he think you would ever fool around with any of these sick fucks behind his back? 

“Cooper, please, what happened?”

He barked out a laugh and you flinched back, “What happened? Well, lets see what the fuck happened.” You heard more than saw him pace across the metal floors, the spurs on his boots clanking loudly. Had he been at a party and come looking for you?

“You told me you’d be back for lunch and I didn’t see you for another two hundred years.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor, “What?” You whispered. 

He knelt down in front of you. “Your eyes still foggy?” You nodded your head mutely. “Well,” he chuckled but it wasn’t the one you knew. This was something mean and sharp. “When those clear up, I’m not gonna look like you remember me, darling. Should probably get out of here before you realize what you’re talking to.”

He made to get up but you shot forward, blindly groping at the dark form of his torso until you latched onto his duster. “Cooper, please, I’m confused. I-” you looked around blindly, hoping to find something to explain how the last thing you remembered was eating pancakes with him. There’s no way in hell it’s been two hundred years. 

“I went to Tom’s to get the script. He made me come in for drinks. There- there were all these men there, they grabbed me and I don’t remember anything after that. Cooper, please, I wasn’t wearing this when they snatched me. What the hell happened to me?”

There was a moment of silence before he let out a sigh. “You didn’t leave to find some safety in Vault-Tec?”

You frowned and let him go, shoving him away from you with as much force as your frozen muscles could muster up. “Fuck you, you think I’d do that to you? How little do you think of me?”

You reached out for the pod beside you, using it to get to your feet. You felt about as graceful as a newborn foal right now, all gangly limbs and stilted movements. You leaned over, catching your breath as you tried to walk forward. 

“If I were you, I’d get back in that pod and let the world rot away. You’re not gonna do well on your own out here, honey.”

You heard his spurs moving past you and then made out his form as he walked through the doors of the room. “Cooper?” You called out, but you knew it was pointless. He was gone. The man you knew was gone and you had no clue what the fuck had happened. 

He managed to finally find the infirmary, lucky enough that a few bags of Rad-Away had been left behind. They’d only had IV bags, so he’d spent a while trying to find a spot where his skin wasn’t so tough a needle could actually get through. 

She had to be lying. 

He felt himself trying to look at the door, like she’d step through, and forced his head down. He flicked at the IV bag, hoping that maybe it would speed it the fuck up. He needed to get out of here. The longer he stayed, the more he wanted to talk to her. 

He’d changed a lot since they’d last seen each other. Whatever he had once felt for her was gone. The man he had once been was dead. There was no point in hurting the girl by giving her false hope. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to relax some. 

He’d finish this bag, pack the others, and then he’d leave this vault behind. She could figure out what she wanted to do on her own. He didn’t have time for strays or old flames. 

You stumbled around for a while before you finally got your bearings. You managed to make your way into what looked like an office and sat behind a curved desk. A terminal on top sat blinking bright green letters at you. You went through each of the logs, your dread only getting worse the longer you read. 

Tom wasn’t in this vault, that’s for sure. The other names you only recognized from the credits of some movies you’d watched a while back. The men who had taken you from Tom’s house. 

According to the scientist using this terminal, they’d wanted to ensure they had some fun before they went underground. 

You weren’t the only one Tom had sold out. Your entire cryogenic chamber had been filled with other women, each of them dead because of a life support failure. You were meant to be their entertainment while they waited for the world to be ready for the taking. 

You took a break, forcing your eyes away from the screen and staring down at your hands. 

Well, Cooper hadn’t been lying at least. Two hundred years you’d been frozen, you hadn’t even known it. It was bizarre, what felt like only a few hours ago was over two millennia. You’d only just kissed Cooper goodbye and now he was acting like some asshole who wouldn’t even stay to help you to your feet. 

Feeling yourself getting angry and panicked you went back to reading. There was nothing you could do. You’d been screwed over by someone you trusted, you were stuck here. No point in pouting about it. 

The scientist wrote more about the men’s intentions and you forced the bile down as you read. Then he got to what Vault-Tec’s real intentions were. Something about experimenting with cryogenics, seeing how long a body could last, what all it could preserve. You didn’t understand most of it, the language far above your education. 

The men were just guinea pigs, same as you. It brought you a modicum of satisfaction. Barely, though. 

The lead of the whole project gets more cryptic and paranoid the further he writes. Something about Vault-Tec never sending the all clear signal to get the fuck out of here. Security was getting antsy the longer they stayed and supplies were running low. 

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together when you looked at the blood splattered walls and the white coated corpse across the room.  

Underneath the last entry was a fail safe. In case the experiment was going wrong and there were no other options but to abandon it. 

TERMINATE?

The green pointer blinked as you stared at the question. Your mind traveled to the way they’d swarmed you. How ruthlessly they’d taken you like you were nothing more than cattle. The other women they did it to. You could only imagine what had happened while you’d been knocked out. 

That familiar feeling of anger, disgust, and shame welled up in you. You had always been typecast. The sexy bombshell with nothing else going for her. It bled into other aspects of your life, people treating you like you were nothing more than a walking doll, for their enjoyment and nothing else. 

You’d be damned if you let these men survive what the other women couldn’t. 

You hit the button and listened as the sirens quieted down the hall, the hiss of oxygen as the pods killed their inhabitants. You didn’t allow yourself to linger on what you’d just done for very long, you went clicking through the rest of the terminal. 

Most of it was password locked, you only gleamed enough information to figure out what had been going on while you slept. Bombs dropped, the world went to shit, just like you always thought it would. You’d never considered that you might survive it. 

Maybe those men had done you a slight favor, just barely. 

He sighed as he ripped the needle out of his arm, pulling his sleeve down he moved away from the wall he’d been leaning on. He’d definitely been getting cheated out of his caps. Next time he saw that bitch Ma June, he’d show her what he thought about her watered down bullshit. 

A shadow passed by the doorway and his hand drifted down to his holster. He slipped out of the room and took a peek around the corner. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere, even with that ridiculous vault suit on. 

“Hey!”

She jumped and whirled around on him. For a moment he forgot that this was a completely new reality for her. She didn’t know what a ghoul was, she’d never seen one before. Her last memory of him had been his prime. When he’d had a fucking nose. 

Her eyes widened and his grew cold while he waited for the inevitable disgust. He was used to it by now, but he was pretty sick and tired of hearing about it. Especially when the few people who managed to get their hands on his old movies would recognize him. 

The disgust never came, just obvious shock and disbelief. She took a few hesitant steps closer, her eyes darting across his face while she did. He nearly missed her hand coming up, like she wanted to touch him. He caught it at the last second, bringing his hand up to swat hers down. 

She winced and backed up a step, the wonder on her face gone and replaced with hurt. “Cooper-”

He darted forward and snatched her chin in between his gloved fingers. “Now, darling, I’m gonna need you to get this through your fucking head,” he hissed, eyes boring into her terrified ones. “That’s not my name anymore, I’m nothing but a ghoul. I’m not the man you know and I’m never going to be. Let it go and if you know what’s good for you, move the fuck on.”

He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and grinned, she had always been pretty when she cried. “Understand?” When she didn’t respond fast enough for his liking he shook her roughly, “Speak!”

“Yes,” she shouted, clawing at his arm and wincing when her nails scraped across the leather of his skin. “I understand.” He took a moment, looking into her eyes, before he nodded and released her. 

She stumbled back, choking on a sob and glaring up at him. “So, what? Am I just supposed to call you an asshole?” He scoffed, barely laughing. Everything that happened to her today and she could still get a fucking attitude. It was nearly impressive, if not stupid. She didn’t watch who she spoke to and she was going to get killed before the day was up. 

“You’re not gonna call me anything. We’re not working together, you’re on your own.”

She glared at him and rubbed her jaw where he’d grabbed her. Her cheeks were already changing colors, bruises blooming where he’d snatched her. His eyes darted away from her hands and back to her. “Why’d you stop me then?”

He looked her up and down and grinned at the way she shivered, seemed he hadn’t lost all his charm just yet. “That tight little suit of yours is gonna get you killed. People up there don’t take too kindly to people from down here.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “So, what? I’d be safer walking around in what they had me in?”

He shook his head and started walking back towards the door of the vault. “No.”

He heard her huff and race after him. “You’re fucking infuriating, you know that? What the hell am I supposed to do, Co-” He shot her a warning glare but she’d clamped her mouth shut before she could finish the sentence. She still had that stupid hurt look on her face, like he’d kicked her puppy. It kind of made him want to just shoot her. 

“I don’t have any supplies, all I have is this stupid suit. Please, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

He sighed and stopped. She stumbled forward, nearly ramming into his back in the process. “Go to Filly, I’m sure you’ll find something there.”

“I’m supposed to just know where that is?”

He didn’t bother responding to her, there was no point in it. She would be dead soon, anyway. This world wasn’t made for pretty girls like her, especially not on her own. If she was smart she’d just starve herself down here, at least she’d have running water. 

You watched him walk off and felt like your chest was going to cave in. You couldn’t handle this, he was just Cooper an hour ago. Making you breakfast and kissing you goodbye. And despite the odd deformities, you could still see him. Sure, he was missing a nose, but he was still there. Your Cooper. 

Except he wasn’t. 

You couldn’t quite believe he would be so cruel earlier. He was always mean when he was hurt. You figured maybe he was still sitting with the fact that you hadn’t actually left him behind for Vault-Tec. But his eyes gave him away. 

They were cold, devoid of anything you used to know. The man you had known was no longer there. And if he was, he was buried far deeper than you were interested in digging. You watched him walk away and felt your chest squeezing painfully. 

This was not the fucking time to start panicking. If the carnage around you was anything to go by, then the surface had to be so much fucking worse. Cooper seemed to think vaults were safer, but right now you were staring into the gouged eyes of a corpse who’d been killed by a friend. Clearly, nowhere was safe. 

You couldn’t afford to pity yourself or cry. You’d have to keep moving, process it all later. You pushed off the wall and leapt over the corpses blocking your path. Cooper must’ve stepped in a pile of blood because you could clearly make out his footprints. He seemed like he was going to leave, you bet if you followed him you would find the way out. 

You followed the prints up a set of stairs, but they had faded out completely by the time you got up to the vault door. You winced, blocking your eyes from the bright glare of the sun. Barely a second out of the vault and you felt like your skin might already be peeling. 

Whatever had happened while you were out, this was not the world you remembered. The sun seemed bigger, brighter, more violent. If the skeletons littered throughout the sand were anything to go by, everything was more violent now. 

You tripped over a particularly deformed skull of a beast and scrambled up to your feet. You glanced around, spotting a figure in the distance and ran after it. You hoped it was Cooper you were following, but he was already so far ahead of you that he was barely a dot on the horizon. 

You followed the footsteps he left in the sand and prayed he didn’t notice you trailing him. You couldn’t very well stay down there with all of those corpses. There had been no supplies to protect yourself with except a bloodied scalpel. You wouldn’t make it down there on your own and you certainly wouldn’t make it up here. 

You planned to just follow Cooper until you found something resembling civilization. He didn’t want you around him and you got the message, you’re not exactly eager to share his company. He’s a stranger, the only part of him you recognize is his name, and you’re not even allowed to use that. 

You kept your distance as long as you could. Keeping him as far away as possible so if he turned around he wouldn’t be able to realize he was being followed. But you’re already struggling. He’s not showing any signs of slowing anytime soon and you can barely see anymore. 

Your lips are peeling, throat raw and aching for water. Your eyes are completely coated in sand and being damaged by the sun. You wished you had been better prepared for this but it’s been at least four hours and you’re about to keel over. 

You wheeze, dragging yourself over to a fallen billboard and slumping against it. You’re not paying enough attention to your surroundings, or you just don’t care anymore. You find yourself drifting off and you don’t stop it. You’d prefer if the heat stroke took you while you were asleep, at least then you wouldn’t be aware of it. 

Your eyes drift closed and your head slumps forward, the sun bearing down on your neck and burning away at the skin there. 

You cough and splutter, frantically brushing sand off your face and spitting it out of your mouth. Cooper’s standing over you, frowning and glaring, which seems to be his go to expression now. You glance down at his outstretched foot and realize he kicked the sand in your face. “What the fuck?”

“You know,” he tilts his head and rests a hand on his holster, grinning at the way you shrink away from his gun. “I thought you would have lasted at least another hour.”

You wipe your face off and struggle back onto your feet, nearly teetering over as you did. “You knew I was following you?” You groused, glaring up at him. You’re not sure your anger translates well, though. You can barely hear your own voice, your throat too dry to produce any proper words.  

“‘Course I did, sweetheart. I’d be a pretty shit bounty hunter if I didn’t recognize when someone was trailing me.”

You finally manage to get to your feet and glare at him. “Congratulations, you want a prize?”

His smile drops and he darts forward before you can move away. His hand clamps around your arm and he drags you behind him. You’re stumbling, barely able to keep in stride with him. Mercifully, you notice the sky is starting to turn pink in the distance. Soon, the sun will be down and you’ll get a moment's reprieve. 

“Where are you taking me?” You demand, tripping over a rock and wincing as he jerks you back to your feet. He turns around to glare at you like he isn’t the one dragging you around. 

“Filly,” he grunts. He finally comes to a stop, you ram into his back wincing as your nose slams into him painfully. He doesn’t even flinch and you wonder if he felt it. If he can feel anything with how crisped his skin is. 

“I thought you weren’t going to help me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be pushing your luck. If he is helping you, and that’s a pretty hesitant if, you’re sure he’ll be quick to change his mind. Still, you can’t help but push him. You’ve always had that problem, except before he took it in stride and teased you right back. 

Now, your eyes dart down to his gun, you’re not sure he wouldn’t just put a new hole in you. 

“Changed my mind.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, I’m aware. I’m asking why,” you cut yourself off sharply, mouth clamping shut because you almost called him Coop again. Your jaw is still aching from the last “warning” he gave you. You’re not looking for another. 

He whirled around on you and you didn’t even realize his gun was in his hand until it was digging into your throat. “Why don’t you stop asking me so many fucking questions, hm.” He sneered and you winced at the sight of his yellowed teeth. Finally you nodded and backed away from him, he kept his eyes on yours for a moment before he holstered his gun again. “Let’s go,” he started walking and you couldn’t do anything but follow him. 

At least this time you weren’t trying to track a dot in the distance. 

The sky was getting dark quick and the temperature was dropping even faster. You hunched into yourself and ran your hands up and down your arms to try and keep warm. It seemed everything was done in the extremes now, even the damn weather. 

Cooper whistled and you hurried to catch up with him. He stood in front of a decaying old house, nearly all of the roof gone. The walls looked like they might cave in soon and it had clearly been unoccupied for a very long time. He opened up the door and walked inside, letting it slam back into your face. 

You caught it and huffed. You followed after him and saw that he was already setting up his spot for the night. He leaned against the half-rotted couch, his hat over his eyes and his arms tucked under his coat. You glanced around for a clean spot to curl up and laid down on the ground. You winced at all the dirt on the floor but figured it was better than sleeping out in the sand. 

Despite your oh-so comfortable sleeping arrangement, you found it hard to pass out. Maybe it’s because you’d just taken a two hundred year nap or the man across from you. Your eyes refused to stay shut and you couldn’t stop staring at him. 

You told yourself you would process your emotions later but apparently your mind had decided now would be the best time. You could feel the tears trickling down your cheeks again and you tried to wipe them away.

Too much had happened for them to be so easily dismissed. You were struggling with the thoughts of what those men did to you. You’re certain your imagination is worse than anything that happened, but not knowing was killing you. You felt violated, just being knocked out like that and being left vulnerable to them. 

And Cooper. 

Cooper was practically dead as far as you both were concerned. You felt like you were grieving for someone who was lying right across from you. You were staring right at him and he was just out of your reach. 

You sniffled and wiped your nose. A loud sigh came from the man in front of you and he spoke without bothering to tilt his hat back up. “I’m gonna take you to Filly and you’re gonna help me with some business there and then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“What?” Your voice was an embarrassing croak and you winced. 

“They don’t take too kindly to my folk down there-”

“You mean zombies,” you interrupted, propping your head up on your hand. 

He finally lifted his hat up and glared, though it was half-hearted at best. “It’s ‘ghouls,’ sweetheart. Never knew you to be racist.” You rolled your eyes and he dropped his hat back down again. “You’ll get me what I need and I’ll have delivered you to, well, not safety, but as close as you can get out here.” He leaned forward, arm outstretched and grinning at you. “Deal?”

Well, it wasn't like you had any other options. You leaned forward, grasping his gloved hand in yours and shaking, “Deal.”

SERIES TAGLIST: @pixelatedprofilepic @o0mellowdramatic0o @bisasterbisexual @julianmarie @v3n1x @weakling-grace

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[eggsistential-breakdown]

Team Tulpar!!!!!

Highly self indulgent silly Mouthwashing Superhero AU

Led by the esteemed Captain Cosmos, superhero conglomerate Pony Express's Team Tulpar's latest mission is to guard a top-secret mega-important warehouse in the deep recesses of space against raiders and ne'er-do-wells for one year, until Pony Express's client can install a more permanent solution.

Unfortunately, a mysterious accident destroys their only way home and grievously injures their captain. Team Tuplar finds themselves stranded on a faraway asteroid, with only battered pieces of their ship and their all-important super-forbidden warehouse charge to sustain them.

God is not watching.

Notes below the cut, not set in stone:

Pony Express

Known for its cheap and widely available distribution of superhero teams

Common option for emergency time-sensitive threats to capital or goods

Less common option for actual life-threatening emergencies

Superhero teams function pretty much just as security details for hire

Allows a little more individualization than canon Pony Express because of superhero branding

Hence the slightly personalized horseshoe logos and outfits (also for fun)

Going under because of the widespread adoption of automated comprehensive security systems

Dragonbreath's security system just broke down and they're hiring Team Tulpar to safeguard their wares until the Earth shipment of replacement and upgraded parts can arrive in one year

Curly

Gave him a bunch of powers that would be cool in space but ultimately useless against the crash

Edna Mode disapproves of capes for being impractical and dangerous so he's getting one

Debated briefly keeping Curly as his name because it's technically space related but I think it would be a bit too morbid to use as a space related superhero name in universe

Insists his team calls him Curly even on missions

Dissatisfied with his role as a glorified mall cop

Anya

Legally, spacefaring superhero teams need a healer

Legally, Anya cannot be classified as a healer

Pony Express was pretty much the only superhero company willing to take her

Still studying for med school

Her healing powers boil down to keeping you from getting worse and offloading stress on your body in hopes that it can heal you

As long as she's around things at least won't get worse :)

Which is how she's able to keep Curly alive after the incident

May or may not be using her powers to stall her own pregnancy

Definitely the glue holding everything together in canon so wanted to emphasize her importance in keeping everything from going to shit

I'm the iffiest on her superhero name ngl

She can call herself a doctor she deserves it

Tried to throw stripes in her design to reference her canon turtleneck

Daisuke

Useless ray of goddamn sunshine

Basically a very bright flashlight

If he focuses very hard he can create lasers

Can cast movies for entertainment but only as well as he can remember/imagine them

First in his family to have powers, parents pressured him to join a superhero team

Parents also got him a slightly fancier uniform hence the golden accents

Couldn't imagine him without the shirt so he's keeping the shirt

Incorporated a little Swansea yellow

Also wanted him to have a visor to be cool he gets a visor

Swansea

Assigned mentor to Daisuke

Registered his name back in college. Claims it's too much of a hassle to change it now

Keeps shields/helmet/armor? up for the entire time from when the crash happened to when Daisuke dies

He shows the most arm in canon so you bet your ass he's showing the most arm here as well

My friends suggested this name

Wanted him to still get to wield a big-ass axe

Jingleballs

Crashed the ship into the warehouse with Curly in it while Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke were double-checking the warehouse

Wearing a little half cape in part to mimic Curly, in part to try and give him a similar silhouette as his canon short sleeves

Powers pretty much just hurting people and taking from them

When strealing powers, can only use them at 20-40% of the capacity of the power's true owner

"Borrowed" Curly's powers a lot when they were younger under the pretense of Curly should experience gravity for uhh reasons

Had the phrase "there's something 'off' about this guy" when creating his name, also kind of a play on "first 'off'icer", also turning other powers off

Wears the mask and hood up when he wants to obscure his face. Usually happens outside of missions

Misc

Warehouse sits on an asteroid because it's cheap

The crash happens right after a raid, Jimmy accuses Curly of collaborating with raiders

A little less certain that no one will find them, but the crash destroys the location beacon of the warehouse and knocks the asteroid slightly off course

Team Tulpar's ship is a lot smaller, there's no cargo hold

It's also currently partially wedged inside the warehouse and stuck in place with sealing foam

Space is essentially split between the ship with food/medical supplies and the warehouse (mouthwash)

Less of a clear division of roles other than Anya as healer and Curly as leader

I like color coding characters

Had this rattling around in my head for five days please take this

[rdr2gifs]

Each time Arthur has helped someone without expecting payment (that I can remember) because I’ve seen some weird takes circling around about how Arthur only cares about money/doesn’t help people (yet again)

He helped a city photographer take pictures and acted as his protector because he liked him

He helped a doctor retrieve a stolen wagon full of medicine, he wasn’t even asked to do so, he did it out of his own good will

He wanted to make an old cranky man happy and proposed finding his lost trinkets for him

He helped Deborah MacGuiness find dinosaur bones out of curiosity. He didn’t receive any financial reward for it. Just a few trinkets and he was satisfied

He risked his life for Marko Dragic’s experiments (his main motivation in this mission was again, curiosity)

He rescued a boy being held hostage by the gunsmith in Rhodes

He rescued people from being trafficked and gave them a large sum of money (he could’ve kept it for himself) for a better life

He helped Mr. White and Mr. Black gain freedom and even helped them again after they got themselves into trouble

He rescued Charles Chatenay on at least 3 different occasions

He instantly hurried to retrieve Sister Calderon’s cross even though he has never met her before

In his first encounter with Marjorie and Bertram, he helps to calm Bertram down and is understanding even though Bertram gave him trouble. He even puts the bartender in his place after he speaks about Bertram in a degrading manner

He agreed to help a man get rid of nigh folk occupying his property and after he payed him with only a rat pelt, Arthur didn’t get angry and still asked him if he’d be really fine on his own after knowing he wouldn’t be able to pay

He let a homeless man hug him and listened to what he has to say

He helped to save Jamie from becoming a cult member and stopped him from taking his life

He helped a boy look for his lost dog

He saved an injured man’s life after driving him to a doctor

He helped a woman get rid of a body after she claimed she had to kill the man in self-defence

He donated to the poor and even to build a shelter for war-veterans

He taught Charlotte how to survive on her own

He tried to save a crazed village out of his own good will

He helped a war veteran retrieve his prosthetic leg and helped him hunt

He helped a man look for his lost friend in the snowy mountains

He helped Rain’s Fall retrieve sacred items important to his people

He helped to retrieve stolen medical supplies for the Wapiti tripe

He saved Captain Monroe’s life after hearing he was in danger

He helped Beau and Penelope escape from their terrible families

He has saved many hunters from getting mauled, given many ladies a ride home, saved people from dying of poisoning, helped gather herbs, helped a lost New Yorker find his way to the town, helped save many people’s lives (lady being held hostage in her own house in Lemoyne, folk getting tortured by The Murfees or Lemoyne Raiders etc.)

Let’s not forget the fact that Arthur is a provider for over 20 people. He cannot be running around and risking his life for free for everyone he meets. He needs money. Even so, he has helped all the people above for no reward and out of his own free will. When I see someone say that Arthur is only motivated by money and never helps people otherwise, I just instantly assume they stormed through the story and didn’t pay any attention. The encounters listed above make up the majority of chance encounters/side quests and in almost all of them he is helping people. 80% of these are also pre-diagnosis.

He has a hard time accepting any compliments or gratitude for his good deeds and always downplays himself. Even in the main story he is never thinking about himself and he always puts others first.

“You did not ask for anything, you only gave”

The encounters where he does require payment pale in comparison to those in which he doesn’t, and even so they are very justified as they are often dangerous, time consuming or straight up ridiculous. It’s weird to assume Arthur only helps people for money when he doesn’t want to deliver love letters, interview dangerous people and sneak into heavily guarded properties for free.

[thatgirlmendo]

Until the Quiet Takes Us

Prologue - more chapters to come?? Let me know if you want tagged.

Summary: Joel returns to Austin and on the way comes across the reader after she had a run in with raiders. They left her for dead but he takes pity on her and promises to stay by her side until she recovers… he didn’t anticipate enjoying your company quite as much as he does…

Pairing: joel miller x female reader

Word Count: 1273

Content Warnings: Nothing sexual (yet 😏) some gore - but not much. Age Gap - Reader is 20s

Writer Notes: Y’all I AM HOOKED on writing now. I can’t stop. This little story takes place in the area I went to college and grew up in 😬 I’m excited to write about Joel in my favorite place on earth. I have literally been writing all morning. Comments welcome! I need feedback. Have not proof read yet, but I will once completed.

Sometime in the Spring

Your head is spinning. Your tongue feels heavy. Even opening your eyes feels like too much. You squeeze them shut tighter, trying to focus — trying to remember.

You’d been trekking along the outskirts of Austin, alone now after the last of your group was lost to looters. Cautious and careful you were hopeful that you might scavenge enough supplies to get the hell out of this city for good and continue your plan to head west.

You'd heard Austin was abandoned, that it had been picked clean, ravaged, empty.

And you had believed it. You let your guard down, even just for a moment.

You thought, if nothing else, maybe you could find a place to lay your head for the night, somewhere semi familiar.

It had been years since you’d seen the city you grew up in — and the sight of its skeleton hit harder than you expected. The plan had been to keep moving west, toward the hills, hoping to find old prepper bunkers or forgotten supplies hidden deep in the mountains.

But something pulled you back. Something you couldn't explain.

You knew you were making a mistake the second you stepped closer to the old city center. You knew it, and still but you kept walking.

The layout in front of you brought a small smile to your face. You remembered this place. Long ago, you and your dad would spend your weekends here — walking down Congress Street, hauling the kayak out for a lazy trip down the river. It was tradition. Muscle memory brought you back, even through the ruins. Even after everything.

Your family had fled to the Boston QZ when everything fell apart. You'd grown up there, survived there — until you escaped with a ragtag group of kids barely older than you. Jackson or bust had been the dream. But truthfully, there had been no real plan. Just to keep moving and stay breathing.

One by one, you'd watched your friends fall. One by one, you'd buried them in shallow graves or simply left them behind because your plans no longer aligned with theirs. Until you were here, alone. In the place that once brought you so much happiness. Now you were standing on the bones of a city you barely remembered, trying to chase down a ghost of who you used to be all those years ago.

You crouched by the rubble of what you thought might have been your old street.

The house was long gone, buried under concrete and ash.

But if you closed your eyes... you could almost see it.

Almost, just almost, feel it.

That was your mistake.

You heard the sound but too late.

The snap of a boot against gravel.

You tried to whip around, tried to draw your pistol — but something slammed into you hard from behind.

Your knees buckled. The world tilted sideways.

You hit the ground, struggling to sit up, fighting against the darkness closing in —

And then everything went black.

—————————————-

Joel isn’t sure what drew him to trudge through the once busy city center, it only brought back bad memories of before.

Austin’s bones are all that’s left. Nothing but sun-bleached concrete, skeletal high-rises, old shops gutted and dead. He doesn’t usually come this close. Too many memories, too many ghosts. But something about today, something low in his gut, pulled him in. Maybe it was stupidity. Maybe it was penance.

Maybe, just maybe it was fate?

He keeps his rifle slung low, boots crunching over shattered glass, the occasional rustle of wind tugging at the frayed edges of old banners still clinging to the posts that line the old once busy streets. Joel’s learned to listen for the wrong kind of silence, not that peaceful kind, but the too-still, something-ain’t-right kind of silence.

That’s when he hears it, you, a wet, shallow breath. A sound not natural to the ruins around him. He freezes, body tight, hand already at his gun.

Slowly, he follows it with that noise, gun at the ready if something is wrong.

He rounds a corner near what used to be an old coffee shop, and that’s when he sees you. Crumpled near the foundation of what might’ve been a grand house once. Half-covered in dust and debris, blood is caked into your hairline, one arm twisted at an ugly angle beneath you. You’re barely breathing, your chest rising in tiny, pitiful jerks.

Raiders. Joel sighs, he knows the signs. They hadn’t even bothered to kill you, damn them… just left you to die slow, like trash.

He should walk away.

He should.

But he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he walk away?

Something about you, the way your fingers still twitch weakly, as if you’re clawing your way back to life, you want to be alive. Something keeps him rooted to the spot. He curses under his breath, checking the perimeter quickly, then crouching beside you.

“Hey,” he says, voice low but firm. “You with me?”

No response. Your face twitches slightly, but you can’t open your eyes.

Joel runs a hand down his face, grunting. He doesn’t have time for this. He’s supposed to be heading back west, supposed to be done with this goddamn city and everything it represents.

But you’re so small lying there. So broken. And something ugly stirs in his chest when he looks at you — something he can’t manage to shove down.

It ain’t pity. He’s not sure what it is.

He should walk away. He knows he should.

Instead, he crouches down beside you. His hands are rough when he touches you, checking for injuries so he can move you, but there’s a carefulness to him too, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he isn’t gentle.

“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath. “What the hell am I doin’.”

Your skin’s hot to the touch, fever or infection, maybe worse. But you’re alive. Somehow you are still breathing.

Joel glances over his shoulder, scanning the ruins around him. It’s not safe here. It’s never been safe here.

Carefully, he slides his arms beneath you. You let out a broken, helpless sound, and Joel feels something twist deep in his gut — something he doesn’t want to name.

You’re not his responsibility. You’re nothing to him, noone. Just another stray the world tried to chew up and spit out.

But when he lifts you into his arms, it feels final somehow, like a line’s been crossed he can’t come back from.

He holds you tighter than he should. Like maybe if he just grips hard enough, the world can’t take you away too.

“You ain’t dyin’ out here,” he says under his breath, half a promise, half a curse. “Not on my watch.”

Joel doesn’t know why he says it. Doesn’t know why he feels it like a brand on his skin.

But he keeps walking — away from the city, away from the past — carrying you with him, feeling the weight of you settle into something heavier than he’s ready for.

Something he already knows damn well he won’t be able to walk away from.

Its sickening and heavy. But he doesn't stop.

[0phiana0]

Twdg Season 4 Characters reacting to reader that has unnatural colored hair!

Characters included are MARLON, LOUIS, CLEMENTINE, AASIM AND VIOLET!!!

Marlon

When he first saw you stumbling across the border of the safe zone your hair was the first thing he noticed

Having pink or purple hair normally wouldn’t be weird but in the apocalypse it really did stand out

I mean where are you finding the hair dye???

The entire first week you’d stayed at the school he longingly just stared at it

From somebody else’s standpoint he might of looked like a total pervert but no he was just really interested in your hair

He doesn’t have an issue with it although he is pushing for you to dye it natural

Not because he doesn’t like it but because he doesn’t want you standing out

He couldn’t handle letting you get captured by raiders

He cares about you too much to lose you (fuck minnie and sophie though lmao)

Despite him being cautious, he really does like your hair

It kind of gives off punk vibes and he definitely digs that (not in that way sillies)

Bonus points if it’s red!

Louis

Louis LOVES your hair and I mean loves it

It’s so colorful and different!

If your hair has several colors he’ll trace his fingers through your hair and try to separate the colors (he doesn’t even notice)

On occasions you say something stupid in front of him he’ll joke about how the hair dye is seeping into your brain

He’d recommend other colors and hair styles that he’d think you’d rock

Once you do eventually run out of hair dye… (crazy how you managed to get so much in the apocalypse) he might secretly go past the safe zone

He knows that there’s around a .5 percent chance any hair dye expired or not is nearby but he just loves you sooo much!

If Marlon catches him he’s definitely getting watch duty for the next two weeks

Clementine

She thinks it’s awesome

Like really fricking awesome

She’s been cutting her hair ever since Lee told her too and your hair kinda makes her miss how long her own used to be before she was forced to cut it

She likes doing tiny braids in it

When she was younger she used to watch superhero cartoons a lot and your hair kinda reminds her of the female characters (which gives her a strong sense of nostalgia)

It’s not just her that likes it though

AJ is mind blown

He loves it so much

He’s never seen anyone with hair that wasn’t natural

If you stop dying it he definitely won’t talk to you for a couple days

Aasim

When you first met Aasim he was sorta cautious of you

Aasim doesn’t try to stand out

He’s okay with observing and watching his environment

While your hair has the opposite effect

You are most definitely going to stand out

At first he didn’t talk to you and just watched you silently

That was until you were both assigned hunting duty so you had to make small talk and you ended up having a lot in common

Since then you’ve been close

He likes your hair but like Marlon he does push you to dye it back to your natural hair color

He thinks it’s kinda dumb how you dyed it in the first place

He’s just concerned for your safety and doesn’t want you getting hurt

Violet

Violet tried so hard not to like it

She had to make herself focus to try to not look at it whenever you too conversed

She isn’t the type to give compliments okay?

Once she subtly talks about how much she really does like it you offer to do hers

She was really excited

Like really excited

So excited that Louis had asked what you’d done to her

You both talked about different colors and styles that you could do to her hair and even your own

You joke about dying it the color violet and surprise surprise she wasn’t amused

But she really likes it overall

She can’t imagine you with natural hair now

[paulyenvol6]

Heavy Hearts

Joel passes a group of raiders who are assaulting a girl that lives in the attacked village and decides to save her.

Contains: mentions of rape and sexual assault, trauma, angst, anxiety, panic attack, very caring and empathetic Joel

I'm not a psychologist and don't know how a person that has been sexually assaulted typically copes so please don't be mad if you don't like the way I described it.

Wordcount: ~3.80k

Masterlist

Usually Joel wouldn't have stopped.

Usually he wouldn't have even looked.

In situations like this he just tried to pass the group of raiders praying that they wouldn't notice and rob him as well because he was on his own after all and although he was a skilled fighter, he wasn't able to take a whole pack of them. So when he passed a camp or village where he could hear the raiders from afar Joel usually avoided it and quickly made his way past it.

But today it was different. It wasn't a very large group of men, maybe 5 or 6 and Joel hadn't been able to notice them until he was already close to the few houses. Once he did he immediately stopped and hid behind a tree.

"Shit," he cursed to himself and since he had a horse with him he knew that he needed to be very careful now so they wouldn't see him.

At first Joel watched them for a moment and then decided to try and back out until he could take the way around the forest which was a long diversion but it was better than to get killed by them.

He was just about to leave his hiding spot when he heard another noise. A high-pitched anxious voice that stood out compared to the laughter of the men.

He hesitated. Out of mere curiousity Joel narrowed his eyes to make out what was happening at the camp and it didn't take long for him to understand. The raiders were kneeling and standing around a girl and obviously intended to claim her as their prize. This wasn't new to Joel as raiders usually took from villages whatever they desired which included young women and to survive in a world like this one had to grow immune to their suffering.

And yet Joel hesitated again. His brain worked hard while he didn't take his eyes off the scene for one second. As much as he felt for the girl, he couldn't risk his life for her. There were four men around her and he couldn't be certain that he would be able to take down all of them. He had worked too hard, had sacrificed too much to be at this point in his life now to throw it all away for a girl. An innocent girl.

Joel's eye twitched and he chewed on his bottom lip. Her screams cut through the air like knives and each hit him in his stomach with so much force that he almost fell back. He couldn't do it. Jesus Christ, he couldn't save her. This was the destiny of so many women and girls and as horrible and sad as it was, Joel wouldn't change the world by saving her. So many more girls would get raped and assaulted even if he helped her.

He felt his foot getting numb which made him realize that he was already sitting here for way too long. He slowly rose to his feet while still observing the men. He couldn't see a lot but it looked like they were trying to take off her clothes which she tried to prevent. She kicked and shouted for someone to make them stop and Joel couldn't help but feel like her words were directed to him.

There was a thunderstorm inside of him; the urge to hit those motherfuckers who had grown so evil and vicious that they had fun raping girls but the rational side of his brain told him to turn around and never look back. And yet Joel hesitated again.

Maybe he thought that he would find a solution to his dilemma if he only waited for long enough. But then when he heard another heartbreaking sob from far away his emotions took over and he saw red.

Blinded by rage Joel swang himself on his horse and made his way to the house. It was so stupid that he immediately regretted it but now he couldn't turn back. Luckily the raiders only noticed him when he jumped off the horse as they were too busy groping the girl but when they did one started screaming and the other men immediately let go of the girl.

Later Joel couldn't remember the fight very well. This happened often, his adrenaline was so high that he felt like he was in a drunken state and his body and mind were disconnected. All Joel remembered was him shooting the first two of them instantly but then one of the guys managed to knock the gun out of his hand and kicked him in his stomach.

What followed was a messy fight that involved a lot of dirt but in the end Joel was able to take another of them down. At this point though the fifth raider that had been inside the house until now had joined his friends and Joel had to face two more men. It was an exhausting and draining fight, but eventually Joel found himself lying on his back surrounded by two dead and three unconscious men.

One of them had driven a little knife into his thigh but it was nothing that wouldn't heal after a couple of days so he forced himself to his feet well-aware that at some point three of the men would wake up again.

Only now did he perceive the girl for the first time. She was uncontrollably sobbing, had formed herself into a ball and covered her eyes with her arms. Her clothes had been torn off and were hanging loosely around her body. Joel sighed and watched her with a numb feeling. She was young, incredibly young and looked so vulnerable like this. He didn't want to terrify her in any way but knew that they had to leave quickly now so Joel approached her.

"Hey," he whispered while towering over her.

"N-NO," she screamed and tried to move away from him.

Of course. He should've known that it wouldn't be easy to get her to trust him after what she had just gone through. Joel quickly took off his jacket and put it on top of her body.

"Take this," he said but it seemed like she didn't even really listen to him and instead just repeated the word 'No'.

Joel exhaled loudly not knowing what he was supposed to do now. Obviously he couldn't leave her here because then his whole saving plan would've been for nothing but he also couldn't force her to come with him especially when she believed he wanted to harm her a well.

When he heard a noise behind him he remembered the urgency of the situation. One of the raiders had let out a moan and Joel snapped back to reality. Without giving it a second thought he placed one hand under her knees while his other wrapped around her shoulder and then he lifted her from the ground. The girl screamed and kicked with her feet but Joel knew he had to do this now. He wasn't going to hurt her, he was going to save her and he was going to make sure that she could see that.

He swiftly ran to his horse and managed to heave her into the saddle. She was fighting him but seemingly was too exhausted to get off the horse on her own so he had enough time to climb on it as well and took his seat behind her. Then Joel gave his horse the signal to move and tightly wrapped an arm around the girl's stomach so she wouldn't fall down.

"It's okay, it's okay. You're safe with me," he tried to calm her as she was squirming and sobbing so hard that she didn't even seem able to properly perceive her surroundings.

"N-No, please. No, let me go," she cried and scratched his arm that was around her body.

"I saved you, I killed these men. You're safe now. I'm not gonna hurt you."

At first he didn't know if his words even had any effect on her but soon her sobs became more quiet although it also could be a result from her growing extremely tired. Soon her body only occasionally shook and her head had dropped to the side.

"It's okay, I got ya. I promise you, I won't harm you," Joel whispered.

He didn't know if she had heard him or if she believed him but she stopped fighting until they arrived at his house in the midst of the forest.

Joel stopped his horse, climbed off it and then lifted her to the ground by her waist. She let it happen but her glossy eyes gave away how traumatized and far away she was. Her wobbly knees immediately buckled and Joel could only just prevent her from falling to the ground. His hands wrapped around her shoulder and he carefully pulled her with him inside of his house. Perhaps she had already gotten used to the thought of another man assaulting her now because she didn't even complain when Joel sat her down on the couch. Only that he of course wouldn't.

He quickly brought a blanket so she was finally covered and put it on top of her. Then he rushed to the kitchen to search for any food he could give her and actually found some dry and hard bread, milk and an apple. His heart was beating fast although he wasn't sure why. He had helped her and they were safe now so there was no reason to be nervous.

But when Joel looked at her again he knew what gave him anxiety. He didn't have a lot of experience with comforting someone let alone help someone who had gone through something comparable to what she had experienced. How was he supposed to communicate with her without scaring her? She still believed that another predator had just brought her into his home and he somehow had to convince her of the fact that he wouldn't hurt her.

Joel closed his eyes while forcing himself to breathe steadily and then made his way to the middle of the living room. The girl had actually wrapped the blanket around her body but twitched when she saw him. Joel immediately lifted his hand to signalize her to stay calm while slowly approaching.

"It's okay." But she pressed herself closer to the backrest and Joel could see her trembling lip from far away. She wasn't crying anymore but her face was still drawn with so much fear that Joel was scared to make one wrong step.

"Alright. I won't come any closer than this, promise."

He actually stopped but put the food he had brought on the sofa table.

"I have something for you. Are you hungry?"

She didn't answer him and just stared at him with eyes round as coins.

"That's bread over here and I have some milk and an apple. Take it if you're hungry."

Still no answer and now Joel didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to talk to her? Would that soothe her? Or should he leave her alone and vanish into his room? But what if she still assumed that he had nothing good in mind and fled from his house right into the arms of the raiders.

He would try something else, Joel declared and slowly sat down on the ground. Perhaps she would feel less intimidated if he wasn't towering over her.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked trying to make his voice sound as gentle as he possibly could.

"I promise, I don't wanna hurt ya. I know that you're very scared right now but you don't have to be scared of me."

She seemed to actually listen to him this time which Joel considered a progress. Her eyelids fluttered and her pupils searched frantically for any sign of danger on him, but Joel reassuringly showed her his hands.

"I don't have any weapon with me. See?"

He could almost hear her brain work behind her forehead measuring if she could trust him and Joel noticed how her hands clenched around the blanket covering her. A little sob left her mouth but this time only a few fresh tears ran down her cheeks and Joel felt like he still had her attention.

"It's okay. Let it out."

He sat patiently looking down to his hands so she wouldn't feel intimidated by his eyes on her until he felt brave enough to ask her for her name once more.

"What's your name?"

She slowly opened her mouth but at first no sound was escaping so Joel nodded encouragingly.

"S-Sophia," she whispered with a croaked voice but he managed to understand her.

"Okay, Sophia," he said gently and felt very helpless.

But then, and he didn't know why because it was solely based on a feeling inside of him he started to speak again and watched her with warm eyes.

"I had a daughter once. She was around your age." Silence.

"Her name was Sarah."

Her eyes wandered over his face but she still didn't show any reaction so Joel didn't know what drove him to tell this girl about his daughter that had nothing to do with any of this but something about it felt right.

"She had an obsession with insects and snails and all these disgusting animals, it was insane. You know, for her eleventh birthday she wanted to build a snail-hotel and collect them for it but her party guests were so freaked out that it ended in chaos." Joel laughed quietly. "But she hated hiking so she would always demand of me to drive into the forest to search for her animals which I wasn't a fan of."

At this point Joel wasn't thinking about what he was saying anymore and leaned his head back against the armchair.

"I always said: If you want to chase after your little animals and want me to come with you then you'll at least walk there. And then she'd say that she didn't chase after them but saved them."

Joel chuckled and then snapped back from his daydreaming when he looked into Sophia's big eyes that definitely looked a little more calm now.

"My name is Joel, by the way. Joel Miller."

He thought that it was only appropriate to finally introduce himself as well and he could actually see Sophia slightly nod with her head if he hadn't imagined it. And then the girl slowly sat up on the couch and watched the food on the table in front of her.

"C-Can I have a-an apple?" she whispered.

"Yes. Of course," he answered immediately and jumped to his feet which made her jolt.

"Sorry. Just… Take whatever you want."

Her shivering hand reached for the fruit and she touched it almost as if it were made of glass. Joel felt weird watching her every movement but he didn't know what else to do so after she had taken a first bite he decided to just ask her.

"Do you want me to go away? I could go to my room and give you some peace."

She bit her lip questioningly and then shrugged with her shoulders.

"I-I… I don't know, I…"

Tears welled in her eyes again and Joel wondered if he had said something to upset her.

"Okay, it's alright. Just tell me whenever you want me to leave."

She nodded and took another bite of the apple which gave Joel relief and the next few minutes were filled with the sound of her chewing and her heavy breathing. When she was done Sophie questioningly searched for his eyes while holding up the core of the apple.

"Just put it on the table," Joel said and then carefully thought about his next words.

"I… Is there anything I can do, Sophia? Anything to help you? I'm not good at this stuff as you see, but… I wanna help you."

She sniffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around her upper body.

"I-I don't know… I d-don't even know w-what happened," she said but her voice broke at her last words and she started to cry again. His instinct was to approach her but of course he didn't want to do anything that could trigger any more discomfort in her so he hesitated.

But then something happened. Something in her eyes shifted and she slowly lifted a hand.

"P-Please…"

Joel didn't understand at first but soon realized that she was reaching out for him. Still he wanted to make sure he didn't interpret her gesture wrong and frowned.

"Do you want me to come closer?"

Sophia gave him a pained look but then nodded very slightly. Joel didn't know why she reacted like this, he didn't know if he was handling this situation correctly but right now he wanted to serve the girl and her wishes and so he followed her demand and very slowly in order to give her time to speak up in case she changed her mind walked towards her.

He felt awkward standing in front of her and looked to the spot next to her. "Can I sit down?"

Sophia nodded again while trying to make the tears stop that continued to run down her face and even moved to make space for him. Joel sat down, immediately looked at her and felt a sting in his chest. Being close to her he became even more aware of how terrible this girl must be feeling. Her eyes were red and he could see multiple scratches and traces of dirt on her face. Only then did he realize that he hadn't even asked one of the most important questions.

"Are you hurt?"

This time it took her a little longer to reply again but to his relief Sophia shook her head. "N-No. Not r-really."

"But I can still give you a salve for the scratches if you want. Might've some medicine left," he quickly stated while looking at her profile.

"What happened?" she suddenly whispered while still staring into the empty space. Joel chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before he exhaled.

"Do you really wanna talk about it?"

Her head turned so suddenly that he almost twitched.

"I need to know."

What was he to do now? It seemingly was her wish to learn about it but despite not knowing a lot about trauma and how to deal with it, Joel couldn't imagine that talking about it right after it had happened was very healthy.

"Look, I just don't wanna trigger anything," he therefore told her but Sophia let her head fall back against the backrest almost as if she was frustrated which made Joel sigh.

"Do you want me to tell ya? You sure?"

"Yes," she breathed.

And so he began to tell his side of the story but couldn't bare looking in her eyes while doing so.

"I passed the camp 'cause I didn't notice the raiders at first… And then I wanted to turn around and go back but… I… I saw what was happenin' with… you an' so I changed my mind, you know and attacked 'em. I killed two of 'em and the others were knocked out an' yeah, I guess that's it."

During his last words he felt strong enough to glance at her again. She looked like she was thinking but then bit her lower lip.

"And then?"

"What do ya mean?"

Her pupils danced hectically and Joel could see her eyes getting wet again.

"What happened after that? I can't remember."

She pressed her hand on her eyes trying to prevent herself from breaking down again.

"No, no, it's okay. I'll tell ya everything. Just look at me."

She slowly lifted her head and gave him a doubtful look while her hands grabbed the blanket again.

"I gave you my jacket. And then I lifted you on my horse and we came here to my house. You were kinda unresponsive the whole time."

She looked so sad suddenly that Joel once again asked himself if he had chosen the wrong words. Then Sophie brought her thumb to her mouth to nibble at it while sniffing loudly.

"I don't know what to do."

It sounded so heartbreaking that Joel unconsciously reached out to soothe her shoulder but quickly let go of her as soon as he realized.

"Sorry, I… You don't have to do anything right now. You just have to eat and sleep. Everything else we'll figure out."

"I don't wanna sleep," the girl disagreed at once and Joel tilted his head.

"That's okay. But if you're tired you should try an' get a few hours of sleep at least."

Sophia shook her head and seemed panicky all of a sudden.

"Please don't leave me. I don't wanna be here alone, please. I'm scared."

Joel sat up straight and folded his hands in his lap.

"I'm not gonna leave you. I'll be right in the next room. And you're safe here, I promise."

But his words seemed to only upset her further because she watched him with wide eyes and looked very pale.

"But I don't wanna be alone at night, please."

Joel sighed still not sure if he was serving her right by staying with her under these circumstances but she seemed so certain of what she wanted right now.

She couldn't possibly trust him like this already and although he obviously knew that he would never harm her in any way, he still wondered if he might scare her if he stayed with her. She was in an extremely vulnerable position right now and probably felt so horrible that she might get attached to any person that took care of her. But if it was her wish? If she would only feel worse if he left?

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "You want me to stay here?"

"Yes," she said quietly and glared at him looking almost shy.

"Okay. But you can still tell me to leave whenever you wanna be alone, alright?"

"Yes," she repeated and then moved slightly closer to him.

"Can I… Can I hold your hand?"

Joel almost teared up at her words and felt like his airways were blocked. In addition to that the heavy weight on his heart seemed to double in size but then he nodded.

"Of course," he breathed with a husky voice and offered her his hand which she enclosed with hers and then rested her head on top of them.

Neither of them said something for the rest of the night but Joel was busy with listening to her steady breathing.

He didn't know whether she had fallen asleep or was way too upset to even feel tired but he just stayed like this all night.

At some point his hand that Sophia gripped so tightly felt numb but even then he didn't pull back.

He just watched over her until with the first light of dawn Joel also felt sleep washing over him.

[toxicanonymity]

First of all: I love your fics - every one of them - but especially Raider!Joel.

I have a question or idea: how would Joel react if he saw Sweet Pea doing yoga... She could have found an old book with yoga exercises somewhere and tried it out - be it out of curiosity or boredom... I think he would be quite surprised - and would find such poses "stimulating"... Just a little fantasy on the side... ;-)

yoga drabble

1.3k, raider Joel x f!reader 

raider master list, latest: ✨hunger 👅

ty ily 🖤 i can see this happening SUMMARY: just a little PWP - a reprieve from action/violence but kind of emotional. WARNINGS: I8+ Joel POV, Unsafe P in V, he poses you, ass slapping, creampie, brief light anal play/scare (reader flinches), joel's guilt, dark fluff, praise. reader can do some version of downward facing dog and child's pose. no y/n.

You're in the living room--that room Joel never goes in with the bookshelf and busted tv.  Joel can only see your bare feet and ankles from the kitchen. You’re on the balls of your feet. He’s intrigued. He approaches and stops in the doorframe, quietly leaning against it and crossing his arms. Your hands and toes are planted on the blue, threadbare carpet, and your ass is in the air, exposing your panties under your dress.  He lets out a little “Mm,” so quiet you must not hear it.

Damn, it really does something to him, seeing you at a new angle--one he didn't even put you in. He watches the pose for as long as you hold it, getting more and more turned on.  He imagines himself on the floor, lying face up underneath you, reaching up and taking an asscheek in each hand, pulling you down on his face, licking and gnawing at you through your panties like he could eat them right off you.

You walk your hands back on the floor, creating an even steeper angle, and your dress falls down to your arms.  You grumble a rare curse, and he inhales sharply. You look toward the door. Even upside down he sees your eyes go wide when you look at him. You smile shyly as you let yourself down onto your knees, fix the dress, and turn toward him.

“Don’t stop,” Joel murmurs with his eyes fixed on you like an animal. He palms himself over his pants, fully hard. He’s gonna watch you for as long as he can stand it. 

"not really doing anything," you claim and he cocks an eyebrow at you, looking at the yoga book on the floor next to you. "just stretching,” you add. 

“Mm,” his head tilts back. “look good doin’ it,” he murmurs.  You glance around, wet your lips and look down at the carpet then back up at him. He gives a simple nod that says for the love of God, keep going. You stretch out your arms in front of you on the floor as you fold the rest of yourself into a ball. He admires your arms and the cute way you spread your fingers out when you try to reach further. 

He steps into the room, and you lift your head. “I can help you do it,” you offer. 

“Maybe later." He runs his palm over the bulge in his pants. He gets down on his knees beside you, facing your hips. He slides his hand up the back of your thigh, under your dress, and palms an ass cheek. “Mmmm,” he sighs.  His hand nudges you up off your heels a little bit and you let your weight onto your arms as you move your upper body forward. Close to doggy style but down on your forearms. He throws the dress up over your hips, out of his way, and gets behind you, straddling your ankles so he can see it all. He holds your hips and nudges your position so he can look straight at your crotch, and the pretty little hairs that poke out of the panties, and the white and floral fabric where where a tiny damp spot is forming.

“God damn,” he whispers. He scoots forward and presses the hardness in his pants against you, takes a deep breath, then backs up enough to urgently take his cock out. He spits on his hand and pumps it just a little, returning his free hand to your ass. He nudges between your legs and you spread your knees a little for him. You're such a good girl, letting him pose you how he wants.

He strokes you through the fabric and you moan softly and tilt your hips. 

He slips a finger into the crotch of your panties and growls at how wet you are. His cock bobs heavily as he uses both hands to take down your panties. He runs his middle finger through your folds then slips the thick digit inside, and you whimper. He watches your glistening hole as he swirls his thick finger inside it, gathering moisture. He wants his cock inside you more than anything right now, but he can't resist your smell. He craves it. He closes his eyes and allows himself a little lick that makes his cock twitch. He'll get more later, he tells himself. He can go down on you anywhere, but he rarely gets to see you like this. It's so sexy that you put yourself on the floor with no intention to seduce him, and here he is, bending you st his will. And there you are, on your arms and knees with this hard cock behind you.

He gathers more with his finger, wipes it on his cock, mixing it with his precum before notching it at your entrance.

He pushes into you, just slow enough to watch your pretty little cunt swallow his length. You gasp and his cock twitches as he bottoms out.  All the way inside you, he has one hand on your hip.  With the other, he experimentally smacks your ass and you moan. He does it again a little harder and your walls squeeze him. “Yeahhh,” he sighs as he begins to withdraw his length. He holds onto your hips with both hands and pulls you back hard as he pushes into you, then abruptly starts railing you, jackhammer speed. 

“Ohhh,” your moan is broken by his quick rhythm.

He fucks you like that for a minute, grunting and sighing. “look so goddamn good like this,” he pants, glancing at the yoga book beside you. “Feel so damn good.” He smacks your ass again as he pistons in and out of you. He watches the ripple of the jiggle when he smacks it again.

“Ohhh, baby,” he groans. You whimper and twitch around him like you’re close. He slows down and watches the way your body grips his cock, trying to pull him back in.

“Joel,” you whine. “don’t stop.” 

“oh sweet pea,” he sighs and watches you suck him in again. “how bad ya want it?”

"Bad," you whimper. "Please." He slaps your ass again, then speeds up. You whimper and moan, "yeah, like that--ohhh." You clench around him. He pulls you back on him so your ass is flush against his hips while you cum.

“Good girl," he sighs. He retreats half way then groans as he fully sheaths himself in your pulsing cunt again. His balls tighten and he feels a twinge.  He leans forward to reach under you and feel your breast, his other hand braced on your ass.

As soon as you clench on him again, he erupts with a shudder, returning both hands to your hips, holding you tightly against him as he finishes his release, and you finish yours. He curves his body over yours and his beard scratches your bare shoulder. "Good girl," he mumbles again into your shoulder and you meet his eyes with a little smile. He withdraws his cock and some cum dribbles down. He pushes it back in with his fingers.

His finger trails up to your asshole and you flinch. Shame rises to his face remembering the day you escaped. "I know, sweet pea," he coos, gently prodding but not entering your hole. "Ain't gonna. . ." Ain't gonna stuff all your holes like it's a goddamn emergency, like it's gonna fix everything. "pretty hole, though" he mumbles as he abandons it. He pulls up your panties for you, trying not to think about that day, reassuring himself it's not gonna happen again--any of it.

"You're a real good girl," he says quietly, mostly to himself.

He lets your dress back down. He tucks his cock away, and lies on his side facing you, elbow on the floor, head resting on his hand, silently admiring you.

He wonders how you feel. He wonders if you need anything, but he doesn't ask. "K," he whispers. He pushes himself up so he's sitting. You push yourself up into another pose on all fours and he gives a low whistle, then stands up with a groan to leave you alone.

----

Thank you so much for reading 🖤🖤🖤

[sunflower567]

Callsign: Umbra Chapter 12: A Friendly Match

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,370

Edited: ✅

Published: April 25th, 2025

Last update/change: June 8th, 2025

Previous Chapter

Marine Raider Training Center, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina: 7:30 PM

“Thanks to you, it isn’t Captain anymore,” Davis snarled as he grabbed Imani’s arm harder, "I’ve been demoted to second lieutenant.”

“Wow two ranks, such a shame,” Imani replied sarcastically.

“Yeah, have to be here to be retrained, and I have to forfeit one month's pay for two months and not even mention getting a written reprimand on my record,” Davis continued, his voice becoming harder with each word, “I may never see captain rank again.”

“And how’s that my fault,” Imani asked, “You thought with your one inch pecker instead of your brain. Not my problem.”

“If you would have just shut the fuck up and let that little terrorist take the fall, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” He snarled, putting his arm against Imani's neck.

“You have three seconds to get that arm away from my neck or you're going on a one-way trip,” Imani snarled.

Before he could respond, the two heard someone running towards them. Before they could react, Imani saw Soap grab Davis by the back of his collar and toss him to the other side of the alley, putting him in the same position that he had Imani in. As Imani was about to step forward, another arm came in front of her in a protective stance. It was then she noticed those familiar skeleton gloves.

‘Ghost,’ Imani thought. Looking up at the 6’4 man, she tried to look into his eyes, but he kept his eyes firmly on Davis, who was still in Soap’s hold.

“Oi,” Soap growled as he stepped closer, “You have a lot of nerve to come here!”

“It’s the base gym! I came here to work out.”

“So, trying to choke a fellow marine in an alleyway is in the workout, huh,” Soap asked rhetorically.

“Listen, Soap, you just saw something taken out of-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll knock your teeth out,” Ghost interrupted, “You were given clear and strict instructions. What were they?”

“Sir, I-”

“What were they,” Ghost interrupted, his voice hard.

“Unless ok’d, training, or in official capacity, I am not allowed within the same space as Sergeant Imani ‘Umbra’ Barnes.”

“Exactly,” Ghost replied as he took slow and steady steps towards the man, “So please explain this to me.”

Seeing him, Soap stepped aside and let Ghost take over. He and Imani both saw as the man stepped into Davis' space. And based on the terrified look on Davis' face, Soap and Imani could only guess what look Ghost had in his eyes.

“Why the hell did we find you with your arm against her throat?”

Davis couldn’t answer. He knew that Ghost and, by extension, 141, wouldn’t take any excuse. Looking down and clenching his fist, Davis swallowed his pride and let out a small sorry that won’t happen again.

But as he walked away, Ghost gripped his arm like he had grabbed Imani earlier, but with much more force, to the point that he may have caused a mild sprain.

Now, Charles Davis wasn’t a petite guy. He stood at 6’0 and was a good 210 pounds in muscle. So when he felt the grip on his arm and the look up in Ghost’s eyes, he felt like that little boy who witnessed his father’s violent outbursts on him and his mother.

“If I catch you near her again, it’ll be you in the desert looking up at the goddamn sand. Understood,” Ghost vowed, his tone low but filled with authority and anger.

With a slight nod and an even smaller ‘yes, sir,’ Davis walked out of the alley and away from the gym.

“You okay lass,” Soap asked.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Imani said with a small smile, “When was someone going to tell me he was here?”

“We were going to tell you when you got back from your room,” Ghost said, "Why did you come here and not come get us?”

“I did go back. But it looked like you were all in a serious conversation, so I didn’t want to interrupt,” Imani said, “I didn’t see the harm in meeting y’all here.”

“We’re gonna talk when we get back to our hall. Next time, follow instructions,” Ghost said, leaving the two sergeants behind.

“What crawled up his ass,” Imani whispered to Soap, pointing her thumb at the retreating figure.

Before Soap could respond with his sarcastic comeback, he saw Ghost stop from the corner of his eye and did an about-face towards them.

‘Aye shit,’ Soap thought as Ghosts stepped in Imani’s space.

“Want to repeat for me bird,” Ghost asked, his voice low and he leaned his head down a bit to look Imani in the eyes.

“You heard me old man,” Imani replied back with the same energy, giving him a smirk.

“I’m 29.”

“Six years older than me. Key word older. So yes. Old. Man.”

The two were locked in a heated staring contest again, like back in Solunaire. But instead of Alpha in the audience, it was Joan ‘Soap’ McTavish. And he was loving every second of this exchange.

He, Price, who has known Ghost for years, and Gaz, who only knew Ghost briefly, knew that most people keep a safe distance from him. Much less talk back to him. But if you could single-handedly kill 100 men by yourself, you could go up against someone like Ghost.

‘Oh, this is great,’ Soap chuckled to himself.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to whatever the hell this is,” Soap laughed, “Umbra, I’m gonna borrow Alpha and practice in the obstacle course ok?”

“Fine,” Imani answered, not breaking eye contact.

“You got it from here Lt,” Soap asked the tall man.

“Go Soap,” Ghost answered quickly, his voice not losing that sharp edge.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Soap walked away with a chuckle. Walking into the gym, Soap saw Alpha lying by the second door separating the entrance from the actual gym.

“Hey, you old dug,” Soap greeted with a scratch on the top of Alpha’s head, getting a happy thump from the wolf, “You with me for now. Just while mommy and daddy sort out their differences.”

Soap couldn’t help but laugh at that the whole way outside in the gym's outdoor area, just thinking, ‘Like that'll ever happen.’

Since Soap left them, Imani ‘Umbra’ Barnes and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley haven't moved an inch. The two stared at one another, waiting for the other to break.

“Proper full of yourself, ain’t ya,” Ghost accused sternly.

“If that means being confident in my abilities, then yes, I am,” Imani argued.

“Ha,” Ghost chuckled in disbelief.

Grabbing her hand, Ghost began to lead Imani inside the gym.

Stumbling a bit to catch up with his enormous strides, Imani followed closely behind him. But her gaze kept switching from the back of his head to the hold on her hand. It wasn’t as rough or tight as Davis’s grip, but it was tight enough to ensure she didn’t get away.

Looking down, Imani saw how much bigger he was than her. His hands basically swallowed hers, and with the grippers on his gloves, she knew trying to escape his grip would be useless.

As the Ghost threw open the doors, he led Imani to the practice mats and finally released her hand.

“What are we doing firs-” Imani began to ask, but stopped when she saw Ghost take off his sweat jacket.

He wore a simple black short-sleeved compression shirt. Under his uniform, Imani could already tell he was a big guy—she felt it when he carried her back to Croatia. But seeing him now, Imani was able to confirm her greatest theory.

‘He has a muscular dad bod,’ Imani thought with a straight face, but on the inside, she was jumping up and down with a wicked smile. Happy she was right about this mysterious guy.

But, if he wasn’t her lieutenant and an asshole to her a few minutes ago, she’d give these a muscle a test ride. But at last, he brought Imani back to reality with three simple words and threw something at her feet.

“Put 'em up.”

“Huh?”

“Put. Em. Up,” Ghost repeated slower.

Looking down at her feet, Imani saw what the man threw at her. Boxing gloves.

“You want me to spar with you,” Imani questioned in disbelief.

“Does it look like I stuttered you wanker,” Ghost asked, “Put those on and put 'em up.”

‘This dickhead,’ Imani thought, her twitching in rage. Taking her jacket off, Imani showed off her lean build and tight black tank top.

“Fine,” Imani snapped.

Picking them up, Imani put them on herself, anger flowing through each movement. The whole time, she did not take her eyes off of him.

“You love picking fights with subordinates sir,” Imani asked sarcastically.

“Only the ones asking for it,” Ghost replied in a dead tone, kicking off his shoes.

‘I fucking hate this guy,’ Imani thought as she followed suit.

“Fine then. Bring it, lieutenant!”

Simon made the first move without wasting time. Before her fist was even in position, he charged at her. Simon jabs at her sides, connecting each hit. He then tried to aim for her face, but she blocked that and moved out of the way when he tried to hit her side again. But as he went to steady himself again, Imani rushed in and hit as hard as she could to his ribs. A hit that usually had most of the boys with her during basic and special forces training down on their knees. But not Ghost.

He responded with a grunt and didn’t stagger a bit. ‘What the hell,’ Imani thought in shock.

Seeing her lose focus, Ghost grabbed her by her arm and twisted it behind her back, causing her to lean against him a bit and groan in pain. After five seconds, Ghost let her go. The two backed away from each other. Imani’s heart was racing, even hammering against her chest. This was no longer a workout. This was a challenge. And never once in her life has she ever backed down from a challenge.

“First round goes to me,” He said, a noticeable glee in his voice, “Were ya all talk and no bite?”

Now that pissed her off. Imani lunged forward as fast as she could, striking him in his stomach and side. That force knocked the wind out of Ghost for a moment. But he didn’t have enough time to react as Imani kicked one of his legs out from under him.

When he fell to one knee, Imani got behind him and wrapped her arm around his neck. After having him in that bind for five seconds, the second round went to Imani. Much to Simon’s amusement.

“Looks like you finally won one Umbra.”

“For a man who doesn't speak much, you know how to get on someone’s last nerves.”

That got a small chuckle out of him. Before Imani could even process it, Simon grabbed Imani by the arm, still wrapped around his neck, and tossed her over him smoothly like she weighed nothing. Imani landed hard with an unforgiving thud on the mat.

‘Ah son of bitch,’ Imani thought with a groan of pain. As she tried to get up, Simon planted one knee beside her hip and held her hands above her head. Lowering his head, the two of them were only inches from each other. The only thing separating them is that mask.

‘Ah,’ Imani thought as she looked at his mask, ‘This one doesn’t have that outer mask on it. Just spray paint.’

“Are you just gonna lie there like an idiot,” Simon finally asked after a minute of the two staring at one another.

‘I hate him,” Imani thought with an eye twitch.

“Come on,” Simon whispered, gripping her hands harder and leaning in closer, “I thought you could take me?”

“Hmm,” Imani smirks, deciding now would be the perfect time to use one of the words Soap taught her, “What makes you think I’m not into this bonny boy?”

That shocked Simon more than he was willing to admit. He felt like his brain had just undergone a factory reset, even losing its grip on her hands. That was the distraction she needed. Using all her strength and her knee, Imani switched their positions so she was on top and he was below her. She grabbed his hands and held them above his head as tightly as she could with both hands.

“Now look who’s lying on the job,” Imani smiled.

“Getting cheeky are ya?”

“Hmm,” Imani hummed as she leaned in closer, “What do you guys say on that side of the pond? Just taking a piss or something,” Imani whispered as she leaned closer.

Just like before, the two were at a standstill. Their faces were inches apart, hers a little further up since her 5’6 "body was smaller than his giant 6’4 body. But this time felt different. The air around them was thick, hot even. Neither of them knew what to say. They just stared into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to make a move.

As much as he tried to resist, Simon’s gaze trickled down a bit until they reached cleavage. Though his mask covered his face, it didn’t cover his eyes. So Imani knew precisely where he was looking. And for some reason, that had her excited.

“Like what you see, Lieutenant,” Imani teased.

Not liking that tone, Simon broke free from her grip and put her on her back again. One hand holding both her wrists, and the other on her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for her to know that all it’ll take is one squeeze.

“You really do know how to push a man huh,” Simon mumbled.

“Well, yeah, I aim to please. Myself at least,” Imani smirked, “I always enjoy pissing a man off on my free time. It’s actually a hobby of mine. And dare I say, I’m pretty good at it.”

‘This fucking brat,’ Simon thought, an eye twitching like hers earlier.

But as much as this woman infuriated him with her little remarks and snide comments, he had to admit she could hold her own. She was fast, resourceful, and overall tough. Tougher than most men he’s met. But what he hates the most about her right now is just how captivating she is. From the way she smelled to the way she walked. He and everyone else knew she was hiding something, and the thought of the unknown usually made him uneasy. But with her, it was like a challenge he looked forward to completing.

And the same could be said about how Imani felt about him. A man whose name she didn’t know, but somehow, he managed to get under her skin in a way no one has. She knows she could be quick with the quips, sarcasm, annoyance, and even anger. But usually, it’s because she’s dealt with the same bullshit from the same person just on a different day. She’s known this man for less than a week and somehow, someway, he manages to piss her off more than her own twin could. And it excited her that she had the same effect on him. It gave her a high level of satisfaction.

The two didn’t realize how close they actually were. With just one little pull, his body could be pressed against hers. And they both knew that.

Reaching up slowly, Imani grabbed the front of his shirt, never breaking eye contact.

“What do you think you're doin',” Simon asked.

“I don’t know,” Imani mumbled, scanning his eyes to see if he was uncomfortable, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know either,” Simon replied as he took off one of his gloves.

Gently, Simon, moved Imani’s curly hair out of the way. Their eyes never broke once. But as his hand touched her cheek, Imani couldn’t help but shiver.

For all the times she’s been around the man, she’s never seen his hands. An odd thing to say, but something she’s noticed. Being this close to him, she could see a small scar on his eyebrow that peeked out with each blink.

Softly, Imani pulled Simon down so they were both flushed against each other. Ghost hands began to slide down to her leg, bringing it up so he could settle between her legs. But of course, fate had one hell of a sense of humor. Not long after he settled in between her, their loud but lovable Scottishman walked in with her loyal companion barking with him.

“Oi! Ghost! Umbra! You still here?”

Scrambling away from each other before he could make his way around the tall wall that separated the sparring mats from the back door, Soap saw Umbra sitting with her back turned away from him, and Ghost standing with his hands on his hips, looking up at the ceiling.

“Ah, you good mates,” He asked as he looked between the two.

“Fine,” they both replied in unison.

“Okay,” Soap trailed off at the end, not really believing them, “Ghost, you wanna go a couple rounds?”

“Sure,” Ghost coughed.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” Imani chuckled awkwardly. Getting up from her spot on the floor, Imani scratches Alpha’s head and walks into the ladies' room.

“Shouldn’t we,” Soap trailed off again, pointing to the bathroom with his thumb.

“You wanna go to the ladies' room? Really,” Ghost asked, with a raised eyebrow. Soap's response was a quick nod and a yeah, no.

But while the two sparred, Imani threw water on her face in the bathroom.

Looking at the mirror before her, she saw nothing different about her. She was sweating, of course, and she was a little sore due to the hits she endured, but she'll live. And the pain builds character. At least that’s what her old drill sergeant told her in basic. Something they agreed on.

One of her biggest commitments was never to be weak again. Since she was 14, she vowed that she would never feel weak and helpless again. In both basic and special ops training, she proved to herself and everyone else that she was not someone to doubt.

But Ghost. Ghost was different. She knew she couldn’t overpower every man with strength alone. She knew that. That’s why she trained so long to think and move fast in a fight. But with Ghost, it felt like even that wasn’t enough. Was it because she was so used to fighting people who weren’t ever a challenge, or was it something else? She didn’t know the answer to that.

What she did know was how Ghost had her feeling back there. Never in her 5 years in the military had anyone she had met or worked with ever gotten her this worked up.

‘Do I,’ Imani asked herself. She knew she’d be as red as a tomato if she weren't black.

“No,” she mumbled to herself, chuckling, “There’s no fucking way.”

Then she thought about those dark brown eyes. Slowly squinting, Imani groaned in fake pain and annoyance as she realized something she wanted and hoped to have again. Imani Kiara Barnes has just realized that she has not only her second crush on a guy, but that guy was also one of her commanding officers. Slapping herself in the head, Imani just groaned to herself, ‘No! Fuck! Why!’

Splashing some more water on her face Imani began to think to herself, ‘No it’s not a crush. It’s admiration. Yeah that’s all! Nothing more nothing less.’

Drying her face off Imani walked out of the bathroom with that chant in her head, but when she saw Ghost knock Soap on his ass, she realized it may not be all that.

But she and anyone else have these types of feelings, which would be nothing but trouble. So, putting on a fake smile, Imani rejoined the men and pretended nothing had happened.

But deep down, she knew she was only lying to herself every time she looked at Ghost.

Next: Chapter 13

Arthur's Note:

Hey everyone, sorry for the late upload again, but I had a lot to do as I prepare to go on a study abroad trip soon. I hope you enjoyed both chapters 11 and 12!

The tension between Ghost and Umbra is starting to heat up a bit. Both she and Ghost realize now that there's something there, but aren't sure if they should even entertain it.

I thought the part at the end, with Imani realizing what she feels, was too fast or unrealistic. Still, when I asked one of my friends in the Marines how fast relationships start and whatnot in the service while giving him a brief description of what I was writing, he said, 'Do you know how fast people get together in here? It's crazy. So no, you're good. I love him and how he supports my delusions, lol.

But anyway, thank you so much for your time and for giving my story a chance! I'll see y'all next Friday!

[missmarveledsblog]

The Last Of Us

my masterlist of series and one shot mainly of the Miller brothers ( separately ) some outbreak and no outbreak

Joel Miller

Series

Call me cupid (3 parts) outbreak! au :

when Ellie notices  the longing looks joel  gives  the woman in the canteen who does the same when joel isn't looking  she take it as her sole mission to set them up and even has a helper in her endeavours

part one

part two

part three

It's a start ( four parts ) outbreak! au :

when joel is settling into life in jackson there's one thing that has his attention , a woman of the name Y/N . The loner who barely spoke to anyone other than his brother til joel and y/n are sent to find supplies he soon finds out the reason why the girls quiet as he tries to break down the walls she built so long .

part one

part two

part three

part four

I'll show you different ( ongoing ) no outbreak! au:

y/n ( peach ) is learning to be free , learning to be her own woman again. Since life wasn't so easy for girl she ran from one monster into hands of another now back in her hometown back with her grandfather she learns being free is lot harder than she thought but lucky for her there's a couple of brothers help her along the way .

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part 8

part nine

part 10

A stray along the way (ongoing ) no outbreak!au ( Trucker!joel) :

rewriting it because i didn't like what i wrote

Oneshots

Tommy Miller

Series

oneshots

The girl next door : no outbreak!

Tommy miller decides life on road ain't all it crack up to be like he used to it maybe because finds himself absolutely taken with joel's next door neighbour

one

two

Joel's girl ?: outbreak! au

when joel shows up in jackson with a teenager and a young woman , tommy finds himself instantly drawn to the woman and yet he start feeling guilty wanting his brothers girl , but he start hating his feeling grow and his brother joel going for women in jackson til he finds out how wrong he is .

sunshine : outbreak! au

every friday was highlight of the people of jackson's night the one night of normal and reminder of the world before it went south , for tommy miller it was seeing his favourite ball of sunshine ..noticing she isn't herself and the reason why he decides to cheer her up only things never stay good when raiders attack ... will he get his chance or not?

what's missing ?

life in jackson is good , it's stable and it a slice of normal in a world that fell apart , when joel find a ghost on patrol tommy is left feeling things hit him hard and guilt for a mistake he was sure he caused.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling Ch. 13 - Falling

You try to find a way to repay Joel for all his kindness. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-12 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 5.9k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

For a change, you wished you’d paid more attention to your mother. 

She’d tried to teach you how to sew. She’d tried to teach you plenty of times. She had this antique notion in her head that you should know how to embroider shit, that you should be able to repair your future husband’s shirts and socks and jeans and make your future babies little onesies. She’d tried to teach you to hand stitch and use a sewing machine and every time you counted the seconds until you could go do something - anything - else. Ride horses, play music, read. Hell, math homework sounded better than stabbing yourself in the finger with a needle for no damn reason. 

Besides, with a Wal-Mart in every town, who even needed to sew anymore? 

You regretted that at the end of the world.

You’d had to figure it out when you were living on your own in the wilderness. You’d traded for more clothes and the things to keep them in good working order but that didn’t get you far when you couldn’t actually sew. The first repair you made didn’t hold well and you had to redo it again and again. Eventually, you could at least keep your clothes functional without wasting your precious few materials but you’d never done a particularly nice looking job. The stitches were never the same size or evenly spaced and doing any kind of design was completely out of the question. 

You wished it wasn’t though. 

“Ow,” you muttered to yourself, stabbing your thumb with the needle yet again. You sucked the bead of blood off your fingertip. “Fuckin’…” 

You were going to have to call it good soon otherwise you’d never actually finish this damn thing. You’d already spent far too much time on making something as simple as a guitar strap out of canvas, flannel and denim from the scrap pile and leather from saddle bags damaged in the raider attack. If you’d actually bothered to learn how to properly sew, you were certain that you’d have finished the fucking thing weeks ago. And that it would look much better than it did after all that extra work. 

But at least it was useable. And it looked like something Joel would like. Or you thought it did, anyway. You hoped it did. 

It was, in fact, hard to figure out what to give someone at the end of the world. It’s not like you could go to the mall and browse and, while you were closer to Joel than you were to any other person in town, you didn’t know him intimately enough to know things that he deeply longed for or needed but wouldn’t get for himself. Even though you were starting to think you wanted to know him in that way. A thought that made your heart flutter and head get light. 

But you’d watched him play guitar enough that you thought he wanted a strap for his guitar and you were pretty sure he didn’t have one. So you’d gathered the materials and started piecing it together, just making up everything as you went along. It’s not like you had a pattern or much of a plan to speak of. You just found ways to make even cuts, pinned it all together and did your best to make it look like someone besides a clumsy toddler had sewed the damn thing. 

Overall, you were pretty happy with how it was turning out. Had turned out. It was done now if you could just stop fucking with it. You held it up, looking it over, eyes catching on every flaw in the stitching. 

“Think he’s gonna like it?” You asked no one, an old habit that was hard to break after spending years with almost no interaction with other people. “Fuckin’ hope he likes it.” 

You’d tried to make it something special, something that would speak to Joel somehow. The outer layer of fabric was a subtle plaid flannel, one like he wore so frequently you figured he had to like it. The underside was thick, sturdy denim, the leg of a pair of pants that had one side shredded by barbed wire while the other was left intact. You’d brought the scrap leather around the bottom and even burned Joel’s initials into it using nails that you’d shaped into the letters yourself. 

You’d found Tommy working on building something in town one day and you picked up a few bent nails off the ground. 

“What’re you tryin’ to get away with?” He called after you as you headed back home. “Know you’re itchin’ to cause trouble…” 

“Makin’ a voodoo doll so I can fuck with you when you’re not around,” you replied. “Needed somethin’ sharp.”

“You would,” he laughed. “Gonna get you back one of these days, Bambi!” 

“Lemme know when you got the brain power for it, Miller!” 

It took a surprising amount of force to bend the nails into the right shape but you got them eventually, the M in two parts because doing that many bends in one piece of metal wasn’t going well. Then, you heated them up and burned the letters into the leather, ignoring how your hip itched where you’d been branded years earlier as you worked. You anchored the ends of the fabric into the leather and added loops to hook onto the guitar. 

You still felt strangely nervous as you wrapped the guitar strap in paper and tied string around it even though you knew you’d done everything you could and it wasn’t going to get any better. The strap was holding together well, the stitches were at least in fairly straight lines if not equally spaced and evenly sized - and you doubted Joel would even notice things like that - but it still made your chest tight. It had been a long time since you’d given someone like Joel anything at all. But you wanted to. 

The night he’d returned from hunting Simon, he’d walked you home with his arm around you, holding you to his side. His knuckles were bloody and bruised as he pressed his nose into your hair. When he went to leave you on your porch, you caught his wrist and held him there, feeling his heart beat below your fingertips. 

“Stay,” you said, knowing you were all but begging him not to leave but you didn’t care if it was pathetic. You didn’t want to be far from him. You didn’t want to try to rest without him. “Please.” 

He slept next to you again, his damaged hand gently cradling your face in the dark, the steady rise and fall of his chest so close to yours comforting you enough that you could relax for the first time since you’d watched him ride away. 

You weren’t sure how to repay him for that kindness. 

It didn’t help that you weren’t sure what you were to Joel, what he was to you. It was the end of the world, after all, labels seemed silly at a certain point. Besides, what did you call someone you sometimes shared a bed with but were too afraid to go into their house? Whose touch you longed for but just the thought of him undressing you made you very nearly panic? Who you wanted to be around all the time but couldn’t bring yourself to tell the things that hurt you most? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure what he’d want to be, either. 

But you wanted to give him something. You had for weeks, wanted to do something after for letting you play his guitar, for helping you through the pain of finding your home burned to the ground, for giving you who knows how many shirts now, for being a good and decent man in a world where it seemed like there weren’t any. 

Then, he’d saved your life. Again. And killed the men who’d tried to hurt you, the man who’d possibly sold you out to the people who had taken everything from you, to keep you safe.

You couldn’t repay all that. You wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

So you finally finished the fucking guitar strap. 

Joel opened his front door before you’d had a chance to knock and smiled. 

“Hey,” his eyes were so soft and the edges of them crinkled when he smiled like that. “Was just about to make some tea, want some?” 

“Sure,” you said, trying to smile back but you weren’t sure you managed it, your heart in your throat. You thrust the small, paper-wrapped package forward and stared at his chest instead of his face. Or you tried to, anyway. You still glanced up at him and caught him frowning, brows scrunched together in question. 

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it from you and turning it over in his hands. 

“Nothin’ crazy, don’t get excited,” you stuck your hands in your back pockets. “Just somethin’ I thought you might need so I made it…” 

“You made this?” He asked, smiling again as he held the package up. You nodded, cheeks getting hot. 

“Like I said, It’s nothing crazy…” you muttered, clenching your jaw as you looked off the porch, anywhere but directly at him. 

He properly stepped outside, going for the stairs and sitting on the top one. You sat next to him, your nerves calming a little bit now that you were in this more familiar setting. You’d still never been inside his house but you were starting to want to. Want to go behind closed doors with him, be truly alone with him in his space, be that close to him, know him that well. 

He unwrapped it slowly, pulling it free of the paper, a confused frown on his face at first before he gently, almost reverently, unfolded it. 

“You made this?” He asked quietly, looking at you with raised brows. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged awkwardly. “Look at it too close and you wouldn’t need to ask that…” 

“This is incredible,” he cut you off, running his fingers over his initials in the leather, a sense of almost awe in his voice. “I love it, this is…” 

He looked up from the guitar strap to look at you for a moment, his eyes ranging over your face. 

“Would… would you let me try somethin’?” He asked. 

You weren’t sure if you could speak, your heart in your throat. Instead you just nodded. 

He reached one large hand forward slowly and gently took your cheek in his hand before pulling you - slowly, gently - toward him, until his face was aligned with yours. You froze, your breath catching as his lips pressed softly into your temple. It took you a moment to remember to actually breathe and you took a shaky inhale as he held you close, his mouth against your skin. 

He pulled back as slowly as he’d touched you, looking over you again like he was waiting for you to bolt. Which, you figured, was a fair thing to worry about, given your track record. But instead of relief at the distance, you resented it. He was only inches away but it was too far now. Your head dropped to his shoulder, the skin he’d just kissed pressed against him as you moved closer until your whole body was against his side. 

That was better. 

“Really love it, Sweetheart,” he said softly, his thumb running over the leather again. “I’ve been wishin’ I had one of these and this is so much better than I could have hoped for. Thank you.” 

“Glad you like it,” you said, staying close to him.

“Not some occasion I don’t know about is it?” He asked, voice light, teasing. 

“You’ve just done a lot for me,” you shrugged. “Wanted to do something for you. And I realized that I’ve known you the better part of a year so there’s a good chance I missed your birthday.” 

He chuckled. 

“Haven’t missed that,” he said. “Don’t really celebrate it but… didn’t miss it.” 

You frowned. 

“You should,” you said. “Celebrate it, I mean. When is it?” 

“September 26th.” 

“Oh shit,” you laughed once, darkly. “Yeah, alright, can see why you might not want to throw a party.” 

He laughed a little. 

“Yeah, hard to want to celebrate the worst day of your life,” he said. He paused for a moment before he pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. “When’s yours?” 

“November 1st,” you said. “It was great when I was a kid, my parents let me stay home from school so I could be out late for Halloween. Always ate too much candy with my friends the night before and then spent the day of with my horses.”

“Little different now,” he said. 

You laughed and pressed closer to him. His arm went around the back of you, his hand going to your hip, holding you to his side. 

“Just a bit.” 

You sat there with him for a moment, just listening to him breathe, the birds chirping in the trees nearby. It was comforting, the sound and feel of his existence. 

“Should go get the guitar,” he said quietly. “Try this out.” 

“In a minute?” You asked, adjusting slightly to see part of his face while still being pressed against him. 

He was quiet for a second before you felt his lips in your hair again, his nose nuzzling against you. 

“Course. In a minute.” 

You stayed like that for what felt like a while, quiet and tucked against him, his thumb slipping below your shirt to brush the skin at your hip. You closed your eyes and breathed deep, focusing on the breeze on your skin, the heat of Joel at your side, the woodsy musk of him, the sound of the wildlife just out of reach. It was like you could feel everything within you, the way your lungs moved, your heart beat, your blood flowed, in tune and safe with Joel beside you. 

Eventually, you sat up slowly and opened your eyes again, the side that had been against his feeling oddly cool with the space between you. 

He turned to face you and leaned into you, his forehead against your temple, his nose brushing your cheek. He took a deep breath against you before sitting up again. 

“Right back,” he said, voice oddly gruff. 

He took a little longer than he usually did to get the guitar but, when he came outside with it, the strap was attached. He went to drape it over you but you leaned into the railing of the stairs, stopping him. 

“It’s for you, you have to be the first one to use it,” you smiled. “That’s the rule.” 

He smiled back, making his cheek dimple. 

“Alright,” he put it on and sat down, admiring the leather and running his thumb over the stitching on the flannel before looking at you. “Any requests? I’ll play if you sing.” 

You thought for a moment. 

“Know Just Like Heaven? The Cure?” 

You hummed a little. He laughed. 

“Yeah, know that one,” he said. “Just gotta swear you won’t show me up with it when I give the guitar over.” 

“Promise,” you smiled. 

He tapped out the time on the body of the guitar and then started to play. You just listened for a moment, all but forcing him to loop back around on the intro before you came in with the lyrics. 

“Show me how you do that trick…” 

Joel handed the guitar over after one song, before you were really ready for him to. You liked making music with him, there was an intimacy to it that you hadn’t found in anything else. You’d never done much of that in the past, never wanted to perform so never taken up with a band in your youth. Your music had always been just for you. Joel was the first person you’d ever known that you wanted to share it with in that way. 

He chuckled when he handed the guitar off to you and you frowned at him. 

“Promised you tea,” he said. “’Sides, rather hear you play for a bit.” 

He joined you on the porch again later, you just playing whatever chords popped into your head, no real melody to it. Joel put the cup of tea beside you and sat on the step below you, stretching his legs out, leaning back against the railing and closing his eyes. It looked comfortable, so you did the same, facing the other way so you could look at him, the shadows and filtered sunlight from the leaves of the nearby tree dappling over his skin. 

You liked to look at Joel. You hadn’t ever really had the excuse to do it for a long period of time before but it was easy to fall into it now that you had the opportunity. Your eyes traced over his face, the creases around his eyes, the arch of his nose, the graying hair and beard, his features soft and relaxed as he sat, arms crossed, listening to you play. 

For a second - a split second, one that you doubt you’d have paid much mind to even just five years ago let alone before the world ended - you wanted to kiss him. Wanted to put the guitar down, find your place on this thick legs, lean your body against his and press your lips against his own. You wanted to feel his mouth on you, feel him breathing, slip your tongue past his teeth and see just how he tasted. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair and hold him against you and find out where his hands would find a home on you. 

You froze for a moment, a thrill of fear running up your spine the second you actually processed what that would mean. That you’d be that close to someone, that out of control of your own body. It made your chest get tight. Joel opened one eye, frowning a little. You’d stopped playing without really realizing it. 

“Everything OK?” 

“Fine,” you said, looking down at the guitar. Looking at him was apparently dangerous. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Course.” 

“If you don’t got other shit to do tomorrow afternoon, I need to take a few of the new horses out and try to open ‘em up in a less controlled environment,” you said, absently plucking quiet notes on the guitar. “Could use another set of hands. If you’re up for it.” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“Make you a deal.” 

“Really gonna try and barter?” You raised your brows. 

“Movie night tonight,” he said. “You go to that, I’ll help tomorrow.” 

“What movie?” You frowned a little. 

“Pretty Woman, I think.” 

“Pretty Woman,” you snickered. 

“What?” 

“You’re gonna go watch Pretty Woman?” You were skeptical. “Just on your own if I don’t go, you’re gonna go watch Pretty Woman.” 

“Maybe I will,” he smirked. “Before you agree, you gotta actually sit down for it. We can sit at the back and I’ll be there but no standin’ back against the wall.” 

You made a face. 

“Bambi.” 

“Fine,” you groaned and kicked his thigh lightly. “Gettin’ to be just as bad as Tommy, making demands and shit.” 

He laughed a little, the arm closer to you going to rest between your calves, his hand finding your knee and he closed his eyes again, a small smile on his face. Your heart beat a little faster.

“You were going to help me even if I didn’t go, weren’t you.” 

He shrugged. 

“Never know now, will ya?” 

You laughed a little and took a sip of tea before going back to playing. 

Joel put his arm around your waist to walk to movie night and it stayed there as people milled around, picking seats. 

“Want to sit away from an aisle or next to one?” He asked, holding you to his side. 

“On an aisle,” you said quickly. That would make it easier to run. If needed. Joel just nodded toward two seats on an end and let you pick first. You took the inside one and Joel took the seat on the aisle, draping his arm over the back of your chair and, as the lights dimmed, you sank against his side, your head going to his chest. For a moment, before the movie started, you could hear his heart beat. You could have sworn it got faster when his nose brushed against your hair. 

***

Seeing you with Ares made Joel nervous. 

Consciously, he knew it shouldn’t. It wasn’t the horse that was the problem before, it was Simon. And Simon was no longer an issue. Joel had made sure of that. Ares was just another animal and you were nothing if not an expert with animals. 

But it was still a thing that had damn near killed you. And watching you saddle him up, pet him, speak in that soothing voice to him made Joel uneasy, his stomach knotting as he clenched his jaw. 

“You’re sure he’s ready for this,” Joel was skeptical. You gave him a look and he ground his teeth a little. “Look, I know he’s had problems…” 

“He was just stubborn,” you reached up and gave the massive horse’s head a scratch. He leaned into your touch, his large head nudging your chest. “He knows we’re on the same side now. Don’t you?” 

The horse dragged a hoof along the stable floor and you smiled. 

“See?” You looked at Joel, your face bright and open, always looking your most relaxed around animals. “We’re good.” 

You had Joel ride a calmer mare, Cassiopeia, while you took Ares. You led a third horse, Hera, behind you and Joel watched as you took a deep breath as the two of you left the town’s walls and headed out into the wilds. 

“Promise not to laugh at me?” You asked, your smile broad under the shadow of your straw cowboy hat now that the two of you were about a mile out of town and truly on your own. You had on one of Joel’s shirts, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and the bottom of it tied around your waist in the heat. 

“Can’t help it if you say somethin’ funny,” he half smiled at you. You ignored him.

“Any time I work with more than one horse, I always want to do Roman Riding,” you crinkled your nose as you said it and Joel frowned. 

“I don’t know what the fuck that is.” 

You laughed and shook your head a little. 

“Forget that you weren’t a cowboy before,” you said. “Just seem like you would have been. It’s trick riding, where you ride two or more horses at once, side by side, each foot on a different horse.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel shook his head and smiled. “Was your hobby tryin’ to get yourself killed?” 

“Sometimes,” you smirked. “One trick is called a suicide drag after all…” 

“It’s a miracle you survived to the end of the world,” he said. 

You laughed. 

“And just think, that’s the only riding my mother was OK with me doin’,” you said. “But it worked out. That’s the only reason I was able to get up on Samson the day he threw Ellie and who knows what would’ve happened then. Been a while but I remembered how to get on a runnin’ horse.” 

Joel looked at you for a moment. He’d brought you to Jackson to save your life. He hadn’t expected anything more from you except to survive. But instead you’d become a part of the fabric of life there, your work with the horses essential to the survival of the place he’d come to love. 

You’d become essential to him, too. This core piece, he’d realized, something that couldn’t be pulled away without critical damage. 

It had been so long since Joel had felt anything like this for a woman. Most of his life, really. 

Before the outbreak, his life has revolved around his daughter. He worked more than he wanted to give her a good life and, when he wasn’t busting his ass at a job site, he just wanted to be with her. Friends were already too much of a time commitment let alone a girlfriend. There were occasional lovers, a few casual dates and sex or even just a woman he picked up at a bar on nights Sarah spent at a friend’s, a woman who wasn’t interested in anything more than a night of satisfying sex. He hadn’t been looking for love and it certainly never jumped out and bit him in the ass. 

After the outbreak had been worse. 

He had no desire to want anyone, care for anyone at all let alone love them. He fucked women when they offered - the world was over, why deny yourself what little pleasure there was left in it - but the thought of feeling something for anyone was horrifying. 

Tess changed that. He’d come close to loving her that way, or he thought he had, at least. He’d cared about her more than he had anyone else but he was never able to love her, not in the way he thought he should have been able to. He wasn’t stupid, he saw what she felt. But any time he even considered falling into that with her he’d shock away from it. Falling was the exact word to use, something that he’d have no control over and could kill him when he hit the bottom. He’d stood on the edge of that cliff with Tess, caring enough to want to jump but too afraid to do it. And then she was gone because he’d failed to hold up his end of the bargain. He’d failed to protect her. 

You were different. Maybe it was because you appeared in his world after he’d loved Ellie. Maybe you were so inevitable that he’d have fallen regardless, tripped over that cliff’s edge and plummeted toward the bottom, all but welcoming what he’d find there. He hadn’t intended it, hadn’t wanted it but you were just… you. Beautiful and brave and smart and so damn alive in a world that, for so long, had been so dead. He hadn’t been able to help it and, once he’d started falling, he couldn’t stop it any more than he could stop hurdling toward the ground after tumbling off the cliff. 

And he was in it now. The incident with Simon in the barn had proven that, the fear that gripped him stronger than anything he’d felt in so long. It was worse than when his own life was under threat, far worse, akin only to what he’d felt when he knew Ellie had been hurt. What had been an amorphous thing hanging on the edges of his consciousness was suddenly clear and at the forefront: He loved you. Without meaning to, he loved you. Without wanting that kind of connection with anyone, he loved you. Without thinking that would ever be possible, he loved you. He would do anything and everything for you if it would keep you safe, make you happy because he loved you.

But there was a sense of guilt with it, too. You hadn’t told him what happened to you but he could hazard a guess. You didn’t want to be touched - though you said you liked his touch - but touching you was sometimes all he could think about doing. Ranging his hands to feel every inch of your skin - you would be soft, he knew you would be so soft - and pulling you close to him to kiss you. Really, properly kiss you, taste you, have you tight against his body as he swallowed every delicious moan and whimper you let slip from you. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted it so much it was almost painful. 

He was starting to think that you wanted it, too. The way you fit yourself into his arms, the way you’d guided his hand to your body, the way you relaxed into his lips when he brushed them against your skin. But Joel couldn’t ask you for more. Not when it could hurt you. Even if he wanted it, even though sometimes that felt like all he wanted, what you wanted was more important. 

“Challenge for you, Miller,” you smiled, almost smirking, watching him as you pulled him out of his own head. 

“Shoot.” 

“Race you,” you said. “Out to the trial head and back to where we tie out the third horse.” 

Joel looked at the distance, probably half a mile round trip. 

“I’ll make it interesting,” your voice had a teasing edge to it. 

“You’ve got my attention,” he smiled a little. 

“If I win, you have to make me more of those chips,” you said. “Say… four times. Whenever I want.” 

“And what do I get if I win?” He asked, brows raised. 

“What do you want?” 

You. 

He didn’t say that. 

“Two movie nights, two bar nights,” he said. “Have to sit down for the movies and dance at the bar.” 

You scrunched you nose for a second. 

“You drive a hard bargain, but done,” you said, slipping off Ares to tie Hera off. Joel smiled a little, watching you. You climbed back on the horse and settled into the saddle, cracking your neck and loosening up your arms. “Ready to lose to a girl?” 

“Don’t think there’s much shame in losin’ to you, all things considered,” Joel laughed a little. “But don’t matter, not going to lose.” 

You patted Ares’ neck and shook your head a little before adjusting your grip on the reins. 

“Ready,” you said, staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, your horse in alignment with Joel’s. “Set. Go!” 

You shot forward, Joel half a second behind you. He pushed Cassiopeia faster, harder, but it was no use. You were just better. There was a lag between Joel’s action and Cassiopeia’s reaction, time for her to understand what he was asking of her. But that didn’t seem to exist with you and Ares, his movements and yours in perfect sync. 

He caught a glimpse of your face just as you turned to run back the other way, smiling like you were having the time of your damn life, eyes wide open and eager instead of cautious and afraid. 

You, smiling and happy and secure, had quickly become Joel’s favorite sight in the world. He’d seen it the night before at the movie, too. It took some time, your body stiff against his for the first half hour or so. But, after a while, you relaxed into him, smiling and laughing and making snarky little observations in his ear and he’d do anything you asked of him, anything at all, to make you feel that happy and safe all the time. 

You reached Hera a few seconds before Joel, bringing Ares about to watch him close the gap. You just shook your head, pulling your horse alongside his, facing the opposite way. 

“You let me win!” You shoved him playfully. 

“No I did not,” he laughed. “You beat me fair and square I’m afraid.” 

“Damn,” you were still smiling, leaning forward in the saddle to pat Ares’ neck. “And here I wanted an excuse to go with you to the bar.” 

The two of you led the horses down trails at first, their first time going through anything but open land with a person on their backs, and then moved to winding through the woods off trail. You switched out horses regularly, each of them disconcerted by navigating the more crowded, natural environment while taking commands at first. But you got them to be more comfortable with it and, by the end of the day, they were taking your commands just as easily as they did in open country. 

“Trade me,” you said, dismounting from Ares. Joel frowned. 

“Sure it’s a good idea…” he began but you waved him off. 

“He’s fine, Joel,” you laughed a little. “Really. Wouldn’t let you get on ‘em if he wasn’t safe.” 

“I get thrown off this damn horse…” He got off Hera and went to Ares, standing so close to you in front of the horse that he could feel you beside him. 

“Then I’ll watch however many movies you want,” you looked up at him, teasing. 

“Alright,” he sighed, offering the larger horse his palm. He sniffed it, skeptically, paying closer attention to you than to Joel. 

“You know him,” you said, voice soothing and soft, dragging your nails gently over the underside of Ares’ long jaw. “He’s a friend, he’s good, we can trust him…” 

Joel watched you, almost feeling like he shouldn’t, like he was intruding on a private conversation with a dear companion. But even if he were, he wouldn’t have been able to tear himself away. He loved what you were saying too much to turn away from it, his heart swelling with it. You trusted him. Of everyone left in this godforsaken world, you trusted him. 

Ares pressed his velvet muzzle into his hand. 

“Good boy,” you kissed the horse’s massive head and took better hold of the reins, turning your attention to Joel. “See? He’s harmless. Hop up.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel smiled - couldn’t help but smile - and climbed onto Ares. 

You were right, Ares was fine. You took over Hera and led Cassiopeia as the two of you worked your way through the forest back to a trail and, eventually, back toward Jackson. Ares responded well to Joel’s commands, calm and trusting, nothing like the horse that you’d cautioned him against touching so recently. You’d done just what you’d said you’d do, made it so he would be a good, reliable mount for patrol, no longer the wild creature he once was.

The two of you were almost back to the trail when your face fell. 

“Joel?” You said, the tension obvious in your voice. He rode alongside you and you nodded toward a tree. There was a clean, clear x cut, about shoulder height, into the trunk. Like someone marking a location. “Look like something anyone from Jackson might do?” 

“No,” Joel shook his head, brows drawn together. “No, it doesn’t.” 

You looked at him, the relaxed joy he’d seen in you all day entirely gone. 

“We’ll report it,” he said, nudging Ares a bit closer to you, as close as the horses could really get. “Get a team out here…” 

“We don’t want to check it out now?” You asked. Your whole body was stiff. Hera stomped her feet below you and she chuffed unhappily. 

You were afraid. 

“No,” Joel said. “We’re not equipped to go huntin’ anyone down. We go back. Nothin’ that says they’re here now, not going to risk you. We go back, tell Tommy, make sure we’re equipped to handle whatever it is.”

Your eyes searched his, wide and vulnerable, and he wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close. Close enough that he knew you were safe. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said, holding your gaze. “I promise. I’ll keep you safe. Promise I will.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeeeek!

Y'all. They are so close. I promise. Next chapter ramps everything up and I've been looking forward to writing it for a while now. I hope you'll enjoy reading it, too!

Thanks for sticking this story out! I know it's been a hell of a slow burn but I've loved getting to settle Joel and Bambi into this comfortable place and building their trust and relationship before we move on to the next part.

I do have an updates blog. Follow and subscribe for post alerts to get an alert whenever I post a new chapter! I promise I won't spam ya!

I so appreciate you all being here and I love you more than words can express. Thank you thank you thank you!

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[nothing2seehere22]

I thought I lost you

Hancock x reader (fluff/angst)

Warnings: mentions of blood, guns, violence, and death

———————————————

The sound of gunshots is what woke you. Your husband jumped up and grabbed his gun, ordering his men to get outside. Goodneighbor was under attack.

You had never gotten dressed so quickly in your life. Racing down the stairs with your gun, you quickly shot down the raiders that had been trying to get into the Old State House.

You scooted against the wall and peeked around the corner, you spotted your husband and K.L.E.O fighting with a group of raiders.

While you were figuring out how to get to your husband, you didn’t notice a small group of raiders coming up behind you. They grabbed you, taking your gun. You screamed for your husband as they dragged you away.

Hancock came running, only to be met with a grenade being thrown at him. Luckily he wasn’t injured, just knocked back. When he came to, you were gone and the fighting had stopped.

————

You sat in a bunker, you had no idea how long you’d been down there. It could’ve been hours, days, maybe even weeks.

As the weeks went past, you studied the group that had taken you. There were six of them. After three weeks, you feared the worst that everyone in Goodneighbor was dead and help wasn’t coming.

————

“WEEKS! It’s been WEEKS since she was taken and not one of you has been able to find her!” Hancock screamed. He had searched everywhere, put out a radio message, and even contacted the minutemen. You were gone without a trace.

“Sir,” a guard approached, “I, along with a few others, think it may be time to consider the possibility that she may not be alive, it’s been three weeks, raiders don’t normally keep their captives alive this long.”

Hancock slowly turned and stared at this guard. He could feel his blood boiling. He threw a punch at him, knocking the poor guard out. “She’s alive, I know she is.”

————

You were able to lift a knife off of one of the raiders while he was passed out. Your heart pounded, if any of them woke up, you wouldn’t be able to fight them all off.

The sandman kills went easier than expected, none of them made a sound. You grabbed an old backpack, filling it with supplies, you grabbed a gun with plenty of ammo and opened the door to the building quietly.

Looking around, you tried to see if there were any other raiders around. Only one at the entrance of the facility, it was a tiny bunker, a hideout you guessed. Quickly getting rid of said raider, you tried to figure out where you were. You wandered a bit, coming to a vault, it was hard to see in the dark but the letters read a clear 111. Your eyes widened in realization, you were near Sanctuary.

You started running and ended up tumbling down the hill towards Sanctuary. You got up and ran, finally coming face to face with Preston Garvey. “Y/N Hancock! Where have you been? Your husband put out a radio message to see if anyone had seen you.” You explained how Goodneighbor was attacked, how you had been kidnapped, and snuck your way out of the tiny bunker.

Preston called in a few minutemen who were able to escort you to the front gate of Goodneighbor.

————

Hancock was buying chems from Fred Allen outside of Hotel Rexford when he heard it. “JOHN!” He froze, instantly recognizing the voice that called his name. Dropping his chems, he turned around to see you running from the entrance. He had never run so fast to get to you. Tears streaming down your face, you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly.

You stayed like that for a while before he asked what happened. He started walking to your home, you explained what happened as he carried you up the stairs.

“I saw blood, and then I had a grenade tossed at me, which knocked me out. When I came to, you were gone and I was scared, I thought I lost you.”

You shed a few tears as you kissed him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, rubbing your back while you kissed. The next few minutes felt like you were in slow motion. You stared at each other for a while, you yawned, signaling it was time for a nap. You were exhausted and hadn’t slept properly in the last few weeks.

Hancock lifted up the blankets, tucking you both under, he pulled you close until you were resting your head on his chest. “I promise no one will ever take you from me again” he said as he rubbed your back.

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Sheep Days with Joel (post outbreak)

Word count: 5.9k (im so sorry i genuinely can't believe I wrote this much about an old man taking care of livestock) Rating: swearing, descriptions of an animal birth (I tried to make it not too gross or explicit), traumatic animal birth, discussions of labour and stillbirths Summary: At Tommy and Ellie's insistence of him finding a routine, Joel is appointed as the sheep caretaker in Jackson. After all, sheep are quiet, and do what they're told. How hard could it be? A/N: this is purely self indulgent, peepaw playing with animals. No romantic interest or pairing, just wholesome father daughter interactions, along with some other characters. Something about the holidays made me think about that conversation that Joel and Ellie had over the fire, and his dream of owning a sheep ranch, and before I knew it 5k was written. If you have read all of this, please know that I love you so incredibly much and you make it worth it to keep writing these silly little stories that bring me so much joy. main masterlist

Life in Jackson had a way of moving at the speed of molasses, while also propelling itself further into the future at the speed of light.

Some days were syrupy and slow, thick with palpable moments of survival, tension and freedom. Memories of what life was like before the outbreak. Other days however felt like the course of an electric current, with glitches and shocks jumping from one event to another, one threat to another in the span of a few hours in a day. Attacks from raiders during ambushes in the early morning, a group of coordinated clickers just outside patrol borders when dusk set in.

Even just the day to day events in Jackson could make one feel that life seemed to pass by at a static, yet dynamic pace, regardless of what routine you had fallen into in the modest settlement.

Joel was still getting used to it. The staticity, as well as the dynamism. Life before Jackson was nomadic. Rootless. Constantly on the run.

Endure and survive. That’s all that really mattered at the end of the day. The words bore a penultimate weight akin to the wartime motivational phrase, ‘keep calm and carry on.’ 

Well, that’s all Joel knew how to do.

Carry on.

Not so much the keep calm part, but he was no stranger to putting his head down and pressing forward when things got tough. Carrying on also meant being strong for others. Something which Joel is constantly reminded that he need no longer do now that he and Ellie are in Jackson. Now that they are safe.

And there is no shortage of people who tell him the same, including Tommy and Maria, and even Ellie.

“You gotta find something to do, man,” Tommy sighed and crossed his arms, leaning into the doorframe of the kitchen. “Something to help you get into a routine y’know.”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “The hell d’you mean I gotta find something, Tommy? I already have a routine.” He scowled and shifted his jaw.

This is the 3rd or 4th time the subject has been brought up and Joel’s just about had it. He doesn’t get it. He does things. He does stuff around the commune. He goes on patrol shifts, helps with the woodworking and labour jobs. He goes to some of the community events, like game nights held at the dining hall or movie nights- even though it takes a good 30 minutes of Ellie’s begging for his resolve to crumble, and he grumbles throughout the entire movie. 

As if Tommy can read his mind, he responds. “Going on patrol doesn’t count as routine, Joel.”

Puffing out his chest and mirroring Tommy’s body language, Joel glares at his younger brother.

“And here we go again,” Ellie quips from her seat at the kitchen table.

There’s a smirk plastered across her face despite her gaze, focused intently on the weathered pages of an old astronomy book.

“You stay outta this.” 

Joel’s clipped tone brokers no room for negotiation, Ellie’s known him long enough to recognize that. But that doesn’t stop her from pushing him, just because she can.

“You stay outta this. Rah rah rah. I’m Joel and I hate everything.” She mocks his deep southern drawl with exaggeration, continuing to look down at her book. 

“Tommy’s right, Joel. Say whatever you want but you can’t just fill your days with the odd jobs around here. And going on patrol. And hanging with me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Joel exhales, his nostrils flaring. “Ellie-”

“Look, dude,” she cuts him off, “I love you, but it wouldn’t kill you to find something else to do with your time. It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it is but c’mon. It’s like you’d rather get killed by a fucking clicker than step outside your comfort zone.”

At that, Tommy snorts and shakes his head. 

“It’d be a hell of a lot less painful than this conversation, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” Joel huffs and puts his hands on his hips. 

“There’s lots of other jobs in the commune that you could help out with. Jobs that you don’t even need skilled labour experience for.”

“Like what, Tommy? Teachers at the school? Volunteers for movie night?” His scowl deepens, as does the crease between Joel’s brows. 

“Like training newcomers on patrol shifts, working at the clothing shop, working with the livestock-”

“Livestock? What kinda livestock?” Perking up in her seat, Ellie pushes the book away and turns to face Tommy. 

“Just for the horses, chicken, sheep and pigs. Well, it’s really for the sheep ‘cause we came into a decent sized herd in the last couple months, and they’re a bit tricky to look after.” 

Tommy runs his hands through his raven curls and chuckles. “No one’s been able to quite figure them out yet, and they don’t trust Jake- the caretaker for the horses and pigs.”

“Sheep?” Ellie’s mouth gapes open, her bright mischievous eyes finding Joel’s.

“Joel. Sheep.”

Already knowing where the conversation was headed, Joel tips his head back and looks up at the ceiling. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” 

__________________________________________________

And that is precisely how Joel finds himself knocked on his ass, after getting headbutted by one of the older lambs, in an attempt to get their halter on and bring them into the barn.

“You little shit, get back here!” he barks at the young sheep as it trots away from him towards the food trough. 

Rubbing the right side of his jaw and grimacing, he sits back on his hands, looking at the rest of the herd a few feet away from him. “I’ve a right mind to tell them to serve lamb for the rest of the month at the dining hall. How’s that sound?”

A few sheep at the hay bale turn to look his way, chewing absentmindedly before ignoring him again.  It had been about ten days since Tommy enlisted Joel as the sheep caretaker, or as Ellie had so lovingly called him, Jackson’s resident shepherd, and Joel had to admit, the job wasn’t half of what he expected. 

It turns out sheep weren’t quiet, and they certainly didn’t do what they were told. Sheep were actually a pain in the ass to keep. A royal pain in the ass. Much different than cows and horses, despite being herd animals. 

Not to mention that they were creative, escape artists, always jumping over the fence of the pen or squeezing in between the slats of the fence. It was a regular occurrence to hear the phrase ‘loose sheep’ or ‘the sheep are out again’ being hollered across the main street, as a handful of them skittered across the main road, Joel out of breath as he jogged after them, the stitch in his side burning through his abdomen, while he knees ached incessantly.

His first week was spent just getting close enough to them so that he could tag their ears for the breeding records. Not that he could manage to even get a hand on any, especially the young lambs.  As soon as he got within 8 feet of the herd they would scurry away, kicking and bucking into the air, or run right past him, as he keeled over trying to catch them. Needless to say, Joel didn’t manage to avoid getting headbutted and kicked a handful of times during those days. 

Cursing, he dusted off his pants and leaned against the fence of the pen. 

“How’s it coming?” Tommy’s voice called out to him from the opposite end of the pen.

Narrowing his eyes in response, Joel hunched over to rest his hands on his knees.

“Easy my fuckin’ ass you liar. These little shits are demons.”

Stifling a chuckle, Tommy rests his arms over the fence and looks down. “Like I said, it takes some time to get to know ‘em. 

It was wrong to laugh at his brother’s misfortunes but he couldn’t help it as he watched Joel’s hulking figure tentatively approach the herd again before pausing as they all scattered around him.  

“S’that why you haven’t been able to recruit any other unfortunate souls for this torture?” Placing his hands on his hips, he shifts his weight from one leg, appraising the herd. 

“No,” Tommy huffs out an exhale, “most folks don’t have the time to commit or they don’t have an affinity for animals.”

He looks out at the horizon, scanning the snow covered peaks of the mountain range bordering the settlement, before his gaze returns to Joel. He smirks as that familiar scowl settles onto Joel’s face. 

“I do not have an affinity for animals.”

Snorting, Tommy looks down at his feet again, nudging the toe of his boot into the hardened ground. “Is that so? That why no one else has been able to ride Callus out on patrol?”

Joel grunts. “That’s different. I wasn’t taking care of him, I was only riding him cause everyone else had their designated mounts.”

Lying through his teeth was easier than admitting that Joel actually loved having a special bond with the chestnut gelding that seemed to hate everyone else. 

It took time.

Lots of hushed murmurs and praise for the gelding to learn to trust again. Not to mention that Joel seemed to have endless patience for the imposing gelding, never getting frustrated with him or upset when their progress seemed to regress. Plus, he had that quiet commanding authority that seemed to ease Callus’ nerves whenever he became frantic and anxious.

Before he knew it, Callus was following him around the paddock, poking his head out of his stall and nickering whenever Joel stepped foot in the barn. 

“Whatever you say, Joel. Whatever you say.” The younger Miller shook his head and stepped back from the fence. “I’ll let you get back to it, since you got your hands full,” Tommy squinted and peered around Joel’s figure, “or, rather, your pockets full, I should say.”

Before he can even glance behind him, Joel feels a harsh tug on his back pocket, stumbling backwards as one of the young lambs tears a shred of the bandana in his pocket.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Gimme that back you piece of-” he bellows as the lamb prances away with the scrap of faded red cloth in its mouth, echoes of Tommy’s laugh fading into the background as he walks away.

_____________________________________________

A couple months later …

It had been roughly over a month since Joel started taking care of the sheep. Their upkeep became somewhat easier as Joel figured out their quirks and tricks to working with them, but the real difference was that Joel did indeed fall into a routine with them. 

Everyday he got up before Ellie had to be up for school, and headed over to the barn to give them their morning feed. Then, he’d come home, eat breakfast, and walk Ellie to school, shortly before returning to clean their pen and stack hay bales in the barn loft. Sometimes he would even shear some of them when their coats became too thick. At the end of the day, he’d pick Ellie up from school and they’d have dinner together in the evening, then he would pop out again to feed them dinner and do a final night check before lights out. 

They were surprisingly curious creatures, and smart. While he would mill about his different chores, they would follow him as he walked around the outskirts of the pen. When he was cleaning up the pen, they would nudge the wheelbarrow, knocking it over in the process.

Eventually, they stopped running from him and would eagerly approach as he walked through the barn into the outside pen, carrying a heavy hay bale for their breakfast or dinner.

When he’d get lost in his aimless thoughts, or stuck on paralyzing flashbacks, a panic attack brewing under the surface, he’d feel a tug on his sleeve or the back of his jacket.

Pairs of deep brown eyes surrounded by a halo of soft cloud like wool would simply stare back at him. Calmly grounding him back to reality. Not that he encountered those very often. What was even more surprising to Joel was that he had panic attacks way less often these days, his brain seeming to allow him some rest and solace from its usual fight or flight status. Even Ellie and Tommy noticed too, with Ellie pointing out that he was ‘less of a grumpy motherfucker than usual.’

He never named them, though. He wouldn’t allow himself that liberty.

They were just animals. Creatures.

Creatures, who in the beginning were ‘little shits with crack for brains and body padding like the Michelin man,’ according to Joel. Soon, however, ‘little shits’ turned into ‘little devils,’ which eventually turned into ‘little buggers,’ with an affectionate lilt behind the nickname. 

It was Thursday today and the vet was coming by to look after the horses and give them their seasonal shots, along with the sheep, too. With temperatures dropping, the animals had to be prepared for the harsh onslaught of cold weather that was native to Jackson winters. Although the commune was prosperous and there was no shortage of food and supply, or need to ration, the animals were always of high concern. 

“How much are you feeding them nowadays?” Dr. Joyce, the local vet, asked as she placed her stethoscope to the belly of one of the mature ewe’s.

“‘Bout 25 pounds of hay a day, and 15-20 pounds of grain on top of that.”

She hummed contemplatively as she shifted the stethoscope knob throughout the mass of wool covering the sheeps’ belly. “That’s quite a bit considering the size of the herd you have here.”

She nods to the rest of the herd munching away at their breakfast in the pen.

Joel shrugs in response. “That’s what Jake was feeding them beforehand but he suggested I up it as we come into winter, to help ‘em keep weight on.”

“Well, he’s certainly not wrong.” She reaches into her kit to pull out a packaged syringe, ripping open the wrapping and flicking the end of the needle two times. Small droplets of liquid ricochet out as she pinches the skin of the ewe’s neck, not covered in wool, and gently inserts the syringe. 

“Is there anything else I should be doing? Or anything else I could do to help them more when winter hits?”

While Joel would admit that he still really has no idea what he’s doing taking care of these animals, it doesn’t mean that he won’t give his all in providing care to them. He’s come to realize he actually likes learning about the sheep, aspects of their care, behaviour and physiology. It scratches parts of his brain that were only really activated when he was contracting, woodworking, or other technical jobs. And he doesn’t half ass jobs, no matter the nature of them.

Dr. Joyce swiftly removes the needle within seconds, and smiles warmly at him. 

“Nothing in particular, Joel. You’ve done a great job taking care of these guys so far, I know they’re not easy to look after.”

At that he chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans against the stall door. “You could say that. There’s been a deep learning curve with ‘em that’s for sure.”

She nods and opens the back stall door that leads out to the pen, the ewe trots out to return to the herd. “Well, like I said, you’ve done a good job so far. Aside from keeping up with shearing them, although you won’t have to worry about that too much come winter, they’re pretty low maintenance. Keep them on lots of hay throughout the winter, and give them more grain to supplement for the colder weather. And some of them may need more than others, especially the pregnant ones.”

He nods along, running through the mental checklist of things he’s already been doing to increase their food supply, when he looks up at the vet.

“Pregnant?”  His brows furrow and he frowns. 

“Oh boy. I guess Jake left that part out when you took over?” The vet chuckles again as she takes in the dazed look on his face and scans the herd briefly.

“You do have a couple pregnant ewe’s here, probably at least 3 or 4. But that one,” she points to a particularly large sheep under the shelter that’s lying down, unkempt wool and hay covering half her face. “That one, 1633, she’s the furthest along. Probably another week or two before she pops.”

“A week?” Joel repeats it, disbelief still laced in his tone. “Shit, I thought she was just really fat. And lazy.” He narrows his gaze at the ewe, tilting his head slightly as he takes in the obvious rising and falling of her midsection, her legs barely tucked underneath her. 

“Don’t worry, Joel, I know easier said than done,” she reassures him after clocking the worry etched into his features. “But sheep births are often fairly quick and easy, not as intense as horse or cow births due to their smaller size. I’ll be on call over the next week in case anything happens but just put more bedding in the stall here during the evenings for her, and keep her feed the same. She will handle the rest.”

Inhaling sharply, Joel nods, processing it all. She tells him what signs to look out for that indicate early labour, and gives him a brief list of things he can do to prepare, as well as supplies that could be helpful during the birth and afterwards. At least the doc will be there to help out so that he’s not completely on his own, despite being very out of his league. 

“Sounds good, doc, I’ll call ya if I notice any changes in her or when she does drop.”

“Please, do. And I’ll see if Jake can come in for an hour or two during your off hours in the event she does go into labour then.”

__________________________________________

Three days after Dr. Joyce’s visit, 1633 goes into labour. Nearly 10pm, just as the settlement tucks in for bed and night shift patrols begin. Dr. Joyce was busy with another animal emergency, of course. Just his luck. 

So, he recruits the next best thing, and gently wakes Ellie up after rushing back to the house after a night check. He hands Ellie the list of supplies that Dr. Joyce gave him and she blitzes throughout the house, gathering the different things in a box.

Of course, the curiosity, fear and excitement over an animal being born was not lost on his teenage daughter. She fired off a barrage of endless questions as she was right on his heels, following him throughout the house.

“Has her water broken? Is she in pain? What direction is the baby gonna be facing when it comes out? Did you call Dr. Joyce?” 

“You bleat more than the damn sheep these days, y’know that? C’mon just get that stuff together for me.”

Joel huffs as he grabs a bucket from under the kitchen sink, thinking of what else he could grab. It had to be the night when Tommy and Maria were both out on patrol as well, leaving just him and Ellie. 

God help him.

When they returned to the barn, the ewe was in the stall, lying on her side, bleating out her obvious discomfort. He quickly takes his thick jacket off, hanging it on a nearby post before stepping into the stall. 

“Alright, honey, alright, it’s okay.” The low murmurs of his voice only seem to agitate the ewe more, as she bleats repeatedly while he approaches and crouches down beside her. His eyes never leave the ewe’s body.

“Ellie, hand me a couple big towels.” She reaches into the box of supplies and hands him two fluffy towels, crouching down beside Joel slowly. The ewe continues to let out loud long bleating groans, huffing as her body starts preparing for labour and her water breaks with an audible slosh.

“Shit. Well, there goes her water.” He huffs, his mouth pressed into a straight line as he tries to peek and see any signs of a muzzle or cloven hooves coming out. 

Gagging and turning away slightly, Ellie groans.

“Ugh, okay that’s fucking gross!” 

He gives her a disapproving frown. “You’ve seen worse before, calm down.”

“A clicker brain and exploding guts is not nearly as gross as this. How are you not freaking out? 

Suddenly, the ewe lets out a long bleating groan again and thrashes her hind legs, in an attempt to get up frantically. 

“Shit. Whoa, whoa, whoa, mama. Easy there. Y’can’t get up just yet.” He hovers over the sheep and tries to coax her back on the ground.

“Ellie, come around here, help me keep her on her side.”

She shuffles around to Joel’s other side and buries her hand into the soft thick wool, gently pressing down. “Have you ever done this before?”

Joel grunts while he tries to contain its flailing legs, preventing the ewe from rolling over or getting up.

“Nope,” he strains. “I’ve seen one or two cow births, long time ago when I was growing up in Texas.”

“Shouldn’t be too different,” he says breathlessly, saying a silent prayer as he pulls the sheep away from kicking at the stone wall of the barn. “As long as she stays on the ground like this, she should be okay, she can’t get up or roll over though ‘cause it could hurt or suffocate the baby.”

“Okay, okay,” Ellie exhales shakily, wincing as the sheep bleats loudly.

“Hey,” he turns to gaze down at the teenager, his voice quiet but authoritative. “It’s gonna be okay, look at me.” Her dazed gaze snaps from the ewe up to meet Joel’s big brown eyes. Anxious. Focused. “It’s gonna be okay alright? She’s gonna be okay?”

Ellie nods her head, the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she looks down at the ewe again. “It’s okay, momma, you’re okay, just breathe.”

No later than 5 minutes after do a pair of hooves and a muzzle appear. Ten minutes of pushing after that, the tiny lamb is lying sprawled out on the ground, Joel rubbing the remnants of placenta off its body and face.

“Joel.” 

It’s barely above a whisper as Ellie hovers over the baby, crouched on the balls of her toes. 

“Joel. It’s - it’s not breathing.” 

She inhales sharply and leans her head over the mouth, trying to feel or hear for a puff of air. 

He’s silent for a moment, and leans back looking at the tiny body covered in bodily fluids, and realizes there’s no movement coming from the lifeless body. No rising of its stomach, and its eyes are barely opened.

All of a sudden the vastness of the chilly barn shrinks to the size of a shoebox. The air suffocating, as if all the oxygen was sucked out of it.

“Fuck. Fuck. Get me another towel.” 

Rushing over to the box of supplies, Ellie hands him a smaller towel, as Joel leans down and wipes at the lamb's eyes, and around its nostrils. He tries to open its mouth to see if there’s any fluid trapped there but he can’t see.

“Get the baster. Hurry.” His clipped tone betrays his panic as Ellie places their turkey baster in his hand. 

It’s a poor substitution for an actual proper bulb syringe that is used to remove mucus and fluid from newborns’ mouths. He opens the lamb's mouth and inserts the baster roughly, pressing down on the bulb, as murky liquid is drawn through the clear pipette. He squirts the remnants of the baster out onto the ground and reinserts it into the lambs mouth, drawing more mucus and crap out a few more times until it’s empty.

They both wait a beat, panting heavily to see any sign of life on the little sheep. 

“She’s still not breathing. Fuck.” Ellie’s voice trembles. “She’s not breathing, Joel!”

“Okay, go into the feedroom and fill up the hot water bottle with warm water okay? Warm water, not hot, I’ll try to swaddle it in more towels, get some heat going.”

Immediately, she races to the feedroom with the rubber water bottle. As Joel hears the water running in the background, he wraps the lamb in two big towels. The ewe is now up and pacing frantically around Joel, sensing something is wrong. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon,” he rubs the covered lamb firmly, pressing his palm down slightly against the ribs and chest of the baby and shaking slightly. Nothing though, no sounds, no movement.

The ewe is now crying and bleating repeatedly as she paces circles around Joel, wanting to get to her baby. “I know, momma, I know. I’m trying. Fucking hell.”

The edges of his restraint and control start to fray. His heart is racing, chest tightening under the crushing realization that the lamb is a stillborn.  He cradles the lamb, swaddled in a mountain of towels now, squeezing his eyes shut and holding the tiny limp weight against his body. 

Moments later Ellie reappears at his side, sinking to her knees with the water bottle in both hands, the sloshing sound of the water drowning out the ewe’s crying.

Joel opens the folds of towels up so that she can place the flimsy warm pouch over top of the lambs side. Wrapping it up like a burrito again, he holds it up against his chest as if he was holding a baby, firmly patting and rubbing the little lump in his arms. Ellie fruitlessly tries to calm down the mother ewe but it’s no use as she continues to trot circles around Joel, weaving back and forth and trying to nose the little lump in his arms. 

He places the swaddled lamb on the ground, into the cushioned nest of shavings and straw bedding. Hovering over it on all fours, he places his palm over the swaddle again, applying pressure to the lambs back and rubbing circles, while opening its mouth with his other hand. 

“C’mon, little one, c’mon. Gimme something, c’mon. Please.” Joel leans down, his lips pressing against the towel as he murmurs.  The sound of his warm, deep voice breaking is barely muffled by the damp fabric as he squeezes his eyes shut. Another set of warm, small, clammy hands overlap his, as Ellie kneels beside him.

They huddle together over the lamb for another minute or two, the soft swishing of straw and shavings strewn about as the ewe continues pacing is the only audibly sound. Her cries for help softened to brief bleating.

Ellie intertwines her fingers with Joel, squeezing tight as she let’s out a quiet sniffle.

Then, a muffled sound. The smallest hiccup. 

“Joel.” She whispers and squeezes his hand again.

“Joel, look.”

He raises his head slowly, holding his breath as he hears the small noise again, before he carefully unwraps the swaddled material.  He cautiously rubs the lambs back again, as they watch as its bleary eyes blink open, slowly but surely.  It raises its head ever so slightly, dazed, before letting out the smallest bleat.

Choking out the breath that he had been holding in, Joel rushes to wipe around the lamb’s eyes and mouth again.  “There she is. Hey little one,” he coos at the small animal, afraid to speak above a hushed tone.

“Holy shit.” Ellie huffs in disbelief with tears in her eyes. “Dude, you fucking did it! Oh my god, look at her!”

She clutches the sleeve of Joel’s shirt, exhilarated and bouncing with adrenaline. “Do you think it’s a girl?”

Smiling to himself, he shakes his head, “not sure, but it doesn’t matter, s’long as it’s healthy. Right, little one?”  He slowly strokes the lamb as it starts bleating with more fervor, when he feels a bigger muzzle shoving his hand out of the way .

“There ya go momma, there she is.” 

He gets up, ignoring the groaning protest from his knees and steps back so that the ewe can see her baby, gesturing for Ellie to follow. 

“Here, Let’s give ‘em some space to breathe. Go grab the space heater and we’ll get ‘em nice and warm.”

Shooting to her feet, she scurries back to the supply room to retrieve the heater. Joel sits back against one of the stall walls, his head tipping back till it hits the wooden slats with a dull thunk as he takes the deepest breath he’s taken all day. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins but he feels fucking exhausted all the same. Defeated but elated, he watches the mom lick and nudge the little lamb, before a voice rings out from behind him.

“Well, well, well, looks like we got a full house in here tonight!”

Joel turns to see Dr. Joyce striding through the aisle, a bright twinkle in her eye as she stops in front of the large stall, already stretching a pair of latex gloves over her hands. 

The corners of his mouth pull up into a small smile as he nods in her direction. “Hey doc, how’s it going?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” she chuckles with warmth, shimmying around the stall door slowly. “You’ve had quite the night from what I can tell. I saw the lights on at this hour and I could only assume it had finally happened.”

Snorting, he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s one way of putting it.” He nods his chin as Ellie returns with the space heater in hand, “couldn’t have done it without this one’s help of course.” 

Ellie grins and hands the space heater to Joel. “If I’m being honest, it was probably one of the coolest and scariest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Especially when she wasn’t breathing. But it was all Joel, really. He brought her back, I just tried not to get in his way.” 

Rounding Joel’s other side, Dr. Joyce crosses the stall and crouches down and pulls out her stethoscope, winking at Ellie. “Is that so? Do I sense a future vet tech assistant that can help me with house calls?”

“Shit. Are you serious?” The teenager’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as a massive smile stretches across her face. “That would be fucking awesome!”

Joel doesn’t even have the energy to reprimand her for swearing, his mind and body drained as he snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey! Is there room for two more at this welcoming party?!” Another booming voice echoes throughout the large stone barn, similar in its Southern drawl to Joel’s but not as deep. 

Tommy and Maria round the corner with huge smiles, still in their riding clothes, fresh off the night patrol. 

“Just so long as y’all can keep quiet.” Joel grumbles, still sat leaning against the stall wall with his arms crossed, legs kicked out from underneath him. He looks over at the scene in front of him, warmth etched into his features as he watches Dr. Joyce check the lambs vitals while the ewe finally starts to munch on hay again.

“We couldn’t believe it, we had to come right away. Hell, I had half a mind to cut the patrol short when we found out.” Maria nods at Joel with a smirk. She glances over to the little sheep who has started to stand on all fours and nurse from its mom, wobbling on its nimble legs. 

“What’s the verdict Dr. Joyce?” Tommy sidles over to Joel, crouching down beside him and grinning. “All working organs? All ten fingers and ten toes?”

Joel sighs gruffly. “They’re hooves, not toes, genius. Jeez, you sure you’re expecting soon?”

Maria only smirks in response as Tommy mumbles and shoves his older brother in response. 

“Everything’s in order Joel, don’t worry.” Dr. Joyce smiles, taking one ear bud out of her ear as she continues to check the lambs pulse. “Her oxygen levels seem good, despite the rocky start and her lungs are clear of fluids, and she’s warm. You couldn’t have done a better job, really, you should be proud of yourself.”

He tries to hide his beaming smile he really does, but Joel grins. His bright eyes crinkle and his dimple pokes through his right cheek. “Thanks doc. I appreciate ya comin’ over here as soon as you could.”

“Her?” Ellie’s eyes widen as she clasps her hands together. “So it is a girl?!”

“Yup, definitely a girl.”

“Think she deserves a name, don’t you?” Tommy nudges Joel in the arm again.

Joel’s smile falters immediately. He shakes his head and looks down. “No. I don’t name ‘em, besides it’ll only be a couple of days before she’s gotta get tagged and registered in the breeding books too.”

“Oh come on Joel, please? She deserves one. After everything she’s been through…” Ellie’s voice trails off. 

Everything they had been through. She doesn’t need to say it for him to know. 

When she doesn’t keep going he looks up at her. Her eyes pleading, welling up with fragments of the pain and haunted memories that they endured over the last year.

He looks at Tommy and Maria, his eyes then falling on Dr. Joyce as she tends to the lamb. 

“Ellie’s right Joel. I know y’all don’t normally give them names, especially the young ones, but given the circumstances, this little lady oughta have a name.” The vets eyes are soft as she gives Joel a sympathetic smile. 

He’s silent for a moment, shifting his jaw. His gaze drops to the tiny lamb, white as snow, now that she’s been towel dried and cleaned, listening to her tiny bleats as she headbuts her mom for more milk. Instantly, his gaze softens, his big eyes rounding at the newborn.

New life. 

A breath of fresh air into the looming hollowness of the barn. A pulse. An electric current, melding into a comfortable, viscous, energy as Jackson’s population, well four-legged population, increases for another day. 

Sighing, he tilts his head in adoration. Filtering through the vestiges of his memory, he thinks back to the conversation that prompted this whole sheep herding fiasco. Him, Ellie, their tiny fire amongst the vast expanse of snow covered country, with nothing but the moon overhead. The comforting solace provided by its glowing illumination, letting them know they weren’t alone in their travels. 

“Well, she is a bright light, figuratively and literally,” he peeks his head out of the stall to find the moon, beaming down on the tiny settlement, before glancing down at the lamb again. 

“How does Luna sound?”

In that moment, the lamb trots over to Joel on its spindly legs, getting braver by the minutes after its birth. She bleats in his face loudly and headbutts his arm affectionately before circling back to her mom, stumbling over herself in the process.

“Well I’ll be damned, I think she likes it.” Tommy chuckles as Maria comes to stand beside him. 

Ellie snuggles up to Joel, her eyes starting to close as the evening's events catch up to her.  “It’s perfect,” she yawns and nuzzles into his broad shoulder, “our little Luna.”

Luna approaches Joel with more curiosity again, as he stretches his hand out towards her, letting her sniff and lick him. 

Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the panic, and near crisis with his first lamb birth, for the first time in a while, Joel feels whole. Fulfilled. Right where he's supposed to be, in this new world, this new life.

Rooted.

A lopsided smile stretches across his face, as his dimple pokes through his cheek. ��Yeah, I suppose it is. Our little light, Luna.”

[home-on-the-wastes]

Hell of a Ride (3/?)

When someone finally makes it through the Gauntlet, Gage's relieved that they might finally have a candidate for Overboss--until he sees that the contender's just a kid. Still, she's the first who's gotten this far in a long time, so maybe there's some merit to her skills, and would be a good fit for the role after all. Besides, kids can be bossed around, right? See Part 1 for additional tags. Part 1 // 2 // 3

In the past, Gage worked with shittier circumstances. Too many came to mind if he thought too hard about it, and while they were nice reminders that this wasn’t the worst-case scenario, it didn’t mean he was happy with what he had to work with.

Most dumb kids excited to join up with them didn’t last long, or were shoved to the lowest ranks of one of the gangs. For the few who were duped into going through the Gauntlet didn’t make it far, with the last one only making it as far as the access tunnels. If Gage had gotten an actual fuckin’ adult to be the new Overboss, like he had planned for, he would have told the new guy to take some time, wander around, and get a feel of the place before they got down to business. It would be a way to show that the new boss had some actual agency, and that Gage wasn’t just in the background, pulling the strings. He wasn’t stupid–he heard how a lot of folks talked when they thought he wasn’t listening.

A kid—okay, technically a teenager—was a possibility he hadn’t even considered. The gangs didn’t need another Colter, or some kind of wuss without a backbone. They needed someone strong and tough as nails, but also had a delicate touch to deal with the fragile situation they were in. In Gage’s experience, most kids were unpredictable. Too many flipped him the bird and ran off to do something half-cocked, only to get shot up, blown up, or chewed up by ghouls.

This kid could go off and do her own thing, listen to no one, and fuck everything Gage’s been working towards in a way no one could predict. The other gang leaders could worm their way into the kid’s good graces. The kid could kill herself when he wasn’t looking; there were plenty of guns, a shitload of ammunition. She could try and kill him, when his back was turned or while he slept. Maybe even in broad daylight, just try and take a shot at him.

But Gage was getting ahead of himself.

He led the kid towards Fizztop Grille after a bit of coaxing and promises to be fed, showered, and find a clean change of clothes. Word spread fast through Nuka-Town and the raiders who didn’t see the fight gave them a wide berth. No one wanted to approach while she was drenched in blood, soot, and probably giving off the faintest traces of radiation thanks to the fusion core explosion.

And the kid was so damn quiet. When she wasn’t looking around at the place, taking it all in, she went back to staring at the ground and worrying her busted lip. She jumped a little when they took the lift up to the Grille itself, and hesitated before stepping onto the safety of the solid patio. Gage gestured towards the double doors towards the workshop.

“Clean up and I’ll meet you here, on the patio. There’s a shower in there.”

The kid’s gaze trailed back to the lift, and then to the heavy double doors.

“No funny business. Got it?”

She nodded, and Gage left her standing by herself. She eventually let herself in, bringing her bag inside with her, and left Gage alone with his thoughts.

To prevent overthinking, Gage tried to settle in on the patio, sitting on the sofa near the coffee table. He helped himself to a Nuka Cola and some chips, left on the table by Colter that morning. Gage spent more time than he would have liked in the Grille over the past few months, trying to get Colter to get his shit together. Lots of time fantasizing how easy it’d be to kill the fucker in his sleep, mourning the opportunity they could’ve had if Colter had just upheld his end of the deal, plotting the gangs’ next steps. 

Gage jumped when the shower valve squealed in the distance. The familiar thumps of old pipes trying to ferry water to the bathroom sounded like heavy boots or power armor clomping against tile.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have the new Overboss shack up in Colter’s old pad.

No, he thought, Colter’s a bloody mess in the Gauntlet now. He ain’t comin’ back.

To emphasize that thought, Gage put his muddied boots on the coffee table. He didn’t have to worry about it anymore. He could disrespect the guy all he wanted now.

When the door swung open, he instinctively put his feet back on the ground.

The kid surveyed the patio cautiously, until she spotted him. The shower had done her some good, even if she was still staring at him with the same amount of trepidation as before. The beginnings of bruises were more visible now with the blood washed off. The kid’s nose was definitely busted and her lip would probably swell up like a balloon if she didn’t stab herself with a stimpack. As she made her way toward him, Gage spied spots she missed in her washdown—blood under the fingernails, flecks near her ears and the bruises that were gonna hurt like hell. She had also assembled a new look from what was from Colter’s stuff and her own belongings. Nothing fit right; she haphazardly tucked a faded Nuka-World t-shirt into a pair of pants from some Gunner fatigues, and the cuffs of the pants were tucked into a pair of combat boots one size too big. She tucked her damp hair underneath a well-worn beanie. The belt—probably her own, he guessed by the make—was working overtime, holding the ensemble together and serving as a holster for her machete.

She looked so small.

Doesn’t matter, he thought. The plan’ll still work.

“Welcome home, boss. The digs are yours, now–hope you like the new look.”

She joined him at the coffee table, not sitting down, choosing to hug the wall. “It’s…something.”

She was being too damn polite. Where was that bite, that vigor, from the Gauntlet? There was no way she washed it all down the drain. Gage shrugged. “Colter had some peculiar tastes. But what about this view, huh?”

The kid looked at the horizon, and then down, watching the raiders. A few were in the pool below, sifting through the water for random junk and caps. Noises and music drifted up from the Nuka-Cade and the market. There was occasional arguing, gunfire. Someone was frying up a steak nearby. Then the kid shrugged, folded her arms on the windowsill, and leaned on the glass.

She was stupid, trusting, or both. It’d be easy for someone to run over, push her over the edge, watch her tumble to the ground. He’d have to work on that.

“All of this is yours. See, now that you’re in charge–”

“Is this how y’all usually pick leaders? Have someone come along, kill the old one, then crown the new one the winner?”

There it was. Gage didn’t know to smile or scowl. “Listen, our former Overboss was a fuckin’ asshole. That’s me being nice. So check your fuckin’ attitude.”

The kid started chewing on her thumbnail. After a second of grinding her teeth and systematically trimming a split nail, she asked, “Why should I? I know I’m not your first choice, not for whatever the fuck’s going on with this.”

“Way I see it, surviving the Gauntlet means you got what it takes—or at least the potential. We need someone who can get shit done, make real progress. Your show, back there? That was progress.”

“I don’t want any of this.” She spat out the nail, and gestured toward the view. Her thumb was bleeding. Her free hand settled on the machete hilt. “None of it.”

Sneering, Gage rolled his eye and stood up. He towered over her now and the threat was clear; she flinched away and curled in on herself, but didn’t step away. “Don’t be a little shit. You try to leave now and this ain’t gonna go so well, you know that.”

The kid’s eyes flickered to him, and then to the gun at his waist, and then back again. Gage was suddenly aware of a lot more—how his own weapon sat at his belt, how she shifted to move and crack her neck as she stood straighter. The kid moved slow and cautious, trying not to spook him.

He wondered what the kid was thinking, and then imagined it: the kid lunging, trying to go for the gun—or grabbing her machete to stab him and make a run for it. He could easily fend her off, already having size and strength to his advantage. But she moved quickly against Colter, and had a creative streak. Maybe she had something more dangerous hidden in those pockets, or down her boot. Still–what got Colter killed was her element of surprise, his overconfidence, and Gage’s help. She had none of that here.

They held each other’s gaze, until the kid relented and looked away.

“If it’s so great,” she ventured, “then why don’t you just do it? Bet you’d be just fine.”

Gage laughed, and shook his head. “Fuck, no. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes guy. Besides, if I was in charge, then I’d have no need for you, get me? Pretty sure you don’t wanna  become your own stain on the pavement.”

He’d prefer to not throw her out the window. It’d put a real damper on his day, especially after putting in so much work. Gage let the kid think about it, mull over the threat, and like magic, she sighed. Sniffled, too, but it seemed like it was more of a clearing the sinuses sniff, than a crying one.

“Then what’s your great plan?”

“First, we gotta trust each other. That means no stupid shit, no running off your mouth. If we play our cards right, then neither of us will have to worry about a damn thing ever again—but for now, we’re gonna tip-toe around this powder keg until everything settles and we’re back in control. When you’re back in control.”

“Sounds like a tall order. Raiders don’t like taking orders.”

Gage tilted his head, giving her a once-over. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience. You don’t strike me as the raidin’ type, kid–but I guess it explains your little psychopathic episode.”

The kid turned red, glaring at him like she hoped he would explode. “I’m not a raider. I just said I knew how they work.”

“I didn’t say you were, but you’re getting real defensive about it.”

“I’m not a raider.”

Irritating the kid hadn’t been on the agenda, but it was amusing. Gage was relieved that the bite was still there, that it wasn’t just a fight thing.

“Didn’t peg you for a liar, either–guess you’re full of surprises.”

The kid grit her teeth. “I’m not lying. I said I wasn’t a raider—I was just trying to do the right thing…” She trailed off and looked at the ground, worrying that busted lip again. It split open, and blood seeped down her chin. She mumbled something that sounded like fucking bullshit, but Gage wouldn’t have staked his life on it. The picture he was shaping up in his mind made him guess that she was stubborn, immature, but had some sense—otherwise she wouldn’t have lasted this long. In the wrong hands, it was a dangerous combination.

Still, he could get on her good side. He took a small step towards her, and lowered his voice like he was trying to calm down a spooked mutt. All he was missing was the raised hand with a piece of jerky in it.

“Look. I know how these gangs operate. I’ve been dealing with their bullshit for years. And I’ll help you, okay? I got skills—I’m a hell of a good shot, so you’ve got someone watching your back. You don’t have to trust any of ‘em—hell, you definitely don’t have to like ‘em. But you need them to respect you, so they’ll fall in line.” Gage let that sink in for a second. Then, he added, “Besides, technically you’re already the new Overboss. That’s half the work right there. We’re gonna meet with the leaders, and show them you’re not someone they can fuck with. But keep in mind—the moment they smell blood, they’ll tear you apart. So, you want to get through this alive? Then you better listen to me.”

The kid scowled again, chewing on another fingernail. They’d have to work on that, too. Hesitantly, she asked, “I help you figure this shit out, as much as I can. After that—can I leave?”

“Kid, I don’t give a flying fuck what you do after.” Gage supposed it was enough to work with. A risk, but she just had to last long enough until someone better came along, or she came around to the lifestyle. Anything could happen, now that Colter was gone.

“We’ll see. But you do as I say first, then we’ll discuss your…retirement. That’s as good as I can offer, kid.”

She thought about it. A bit too long, honestly, but then she drew her hand away from her mouth.

“Murk.” She shifted, holding out the bloodied hand, an attempt at civility. “Murk Mathis. Not kid.”

Gage didn’t know if she wanted a handshake, or what. He shook his head. “Nah. You’re Overboss Mathis. Get out of here with that shit.” He gestured toward the lift. “Better to talk to the leaders now, while your kill of Colter’s still fresh."

In an obvious effort to get away from him, Murk hurried to the lift. She turned pale as it swayed in the wind, grabbing at the side so she wouldn't tumble over. Gage followed, hand hovering over the lift button.

"Oh, and boss?"

Managing to tear her gaze from the railing and her hands, she looked over at him.

"Don't fuck it up."

Then, he punched the button and she descended to the ground below.

<< Previous Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own

Author's notes: I got a really kind comment on AO3 and decided that I could dust off some of the chapters I still had knocking about in my head.

[final-girl96]

Ageless Secrets Chapter One

August 2007

It's been almost two years since the outbreak. The government, now known as FEDRA, finally had quarantine zones that people could go to. They had them set up a year after the outbreak happened. The QZs were in a lot of the major cities, New York, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, they were all over the place. Right now we were making our way to Boston. We tried getting in the one in Detroit, going all the way back home but it was clear it wouldn't happen as soon as we got there. The road to the QZ was backed up for miles. So we turned around and headed for the one in Ohio but that too was out of the question.

We then decided to just keep going. There was supposed to be one in Boston that wasn't even finished yet. We figured if we could get there early we could be one of the first to get in. But it was rough being out on the road. Supplies were hard to come by, no place was safe, we had to worry about raiders. This was a new world and the old world rules didn't apply anymore. People would kill you for whatever you had.

Eventually, we met up with other survivors. You know what they say, safety in numbers and all that jazz. We turned into those people that we would hide from. It's what we had to do to survive. It's that kind of world now that you kill or be killed. Hiding wasn't always an option. We car jacked, stole, killed, and left people for dead. I am nineteen now and I've been through too much for my age. I used to be scared all the time. I let Tess handle everything. But after A while those hopes and dreams that this whole outbreak would eventually be over vanished.

Cordyceps, that's what the sickness was, it's a fungus. At one point it only affected things like ants. It would attach itself to the ant and eventually make its way to its brain and take control. It used to never be able to survive in the human body with how high our body temperature was. But it adapted. There are three known stages of infection as of now.

Runners: The first and most common stage, occurring within hours or days of infection. They are still human in appearance, but lose control of their faculties and sprint you. Kind of like Andy had done.

Stalkers: The second stage, where the infected show physical signs of the infection, such as spores growing from their head and body. They are also more agile than runners. They like to stay in darker places and they like to follow you. They've been infected for at least two weeks and remain that way until about a year before going to the next stage.

Clickers: The third stage, where the infected become blood-hungry husks. They can't see you because of the fungus overing their face. But they have impeccable hearing and make this creepy ass clicking noise. They've been infected for a least a year or two.

You have to be careful no matter what with the infected, but they seem to like the dark more than being out in the day light. The dwell in builds where it's dark. You always need to so a sweep, being as quiet as possible when you go into a house or building to loat or stay in. You always need to be careful of any spores in the air. The Cordyceps isn't just inside the infected, it also grows around any that have been sitting somewhere for a while. The spores alone can infected you, so wearing a gas mask is the best option in those situation.

A few weeks ago we met two men, brothers. Joel, the oldest and his younger brother Tommy. Tommy was thirty-two, the same age as Tess and Joel was thirty-six or would be soon according to Tommy. Everything happened on Joel birthday, September twenty-sixth. I won't sit here and pretend that I didn't find Joel attractive the second I laid eyes on him. But he didn't pay any attention to me. Why would he? I'm a nineteen year old girl.

Joel didn't trust very easily either, not as easily as Tommy did. Tommy warmed up to Tess and I pretty quick. He the more reasonable one of the two. Joel and Tess had a lot in common, she wasn't very trusting either. I mean, I don't trust people anymore but I'm not as bad as Tess is. I would have trusted Joel in a heartbeat even after he put a gun to my head.

Yup, that's right, Joel had a gun to my head when we first ran into them. They thought we were trying to rob them and we thought they were trying to rob us. To be fair we were going to rob them and they were going to do the same to us. Tess had her gun trained on Joel, daring him to pull the trigger. Tommy was the voice of reason. He's the one that convince both of the to lower their weapons and talk. Tommy came up with the idea to band together all while Joel still had a hold of me.

“Let's put our guns down and talk about this. Joel, come on, she's just a kid.” I scoffed at that, “I'm fucking nineteen, asshole.” Tess glared at me. “Yn, shut up!” I rolled my eyes at her and let out a long sigh. “Joel, please, lower your gun,” Tommy pleaded. Only when Tess lowered hers, holding a hand up in surrender did Joel lower his gun. “Are you going to let go of me? I'm not one that likes physical contact all that much.”

It had all been quite thrilling and terrifying. When Joel finally let me go, he pushed me towards my sister, almost causing me to fall. “Fucking asshole!” Tess had grabbed me and pulled me behind her, telling me to shut up. They made a deal that we would all work together. But that doesn't mean we trust each other fully. Joel was cold towards us, at least he was to me. He got along with Tess more than he got along with me. I was ignored anytime I tried to pitch in ideas.

Tess forced me to stay back when they went to raid people. She acted like I never killed someone. I had killed more people than I'd like to admit. I'm nineteen and have killed men and women. You didn't see too many children anymore. For a while Tess couldn't even look at a kid. She could hardly look at me. I hated that she would make me hang back a lot, but I also understood why she did It.

“Alright, yn, you–” I cut her off with a roll of my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, stay here. Stay out of sight. Don't come out unless I tell you to. You're no help to us. You're useless. You'll just be in the way and get yourself or someone else killed. Blah blah blah.” She let out a heavy sigh, “Please don't start your shit. I just want you to be safe.”

“Whatever, Tess, just go.” I turned around and walked back into the building we had been sitting in for the past three hours. Joel and Tess were watching a group of men across the way. Tommy didn't seem to want to be a part of it but he was doing what we had to do to survive. “I'll stay back with her, keep an eye out from here.” I groaned, rolling my eyes back and stormed off. “I don't need a babysitter!”

“Keep your damn voice down!” Joel hissed at me. I spun around and gave him the finger, "Shove it up your ass!” His jaw clenched and he started after me. “Joel,” Tommy warned. “Yn, please, stop your damn attitude!” Tess said sternly. “Look here little girl–” That pissed me off even more. I know I was acting like a child, but I was getting sick of them treating me like I was unable to do anything.

“Little girl! Little fucking girl! Really? Go fuck yourself, Joel. All of you can go fuck yourself. You all act like I can't take care of myself. You act like I'm nothing but a burden to you. I'm so sick and tired of it. You always thought you were better than me Tess, just because you're older. You always have to be in charge. You're not the only one whole has been having a hard fucking time! I'm not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.”

[the-badger-mole]

Hi there! So I really enjoy your fanfics and how you’re not afraid to call Aang out on things (even when people come and try to harass you over it) and I’ve been trying to get into fanfic writing myself. I was wondering could I pick your brain on a few things? I really like your insights on the series.

I’m trying to write a fic where Katara does end up killing Yon Ra which causes a huge falling out with Aang when she gets back. Aang blames Zuko for corrupting her and tries to make him leave the group but Katara defends herself and her choice and Zuko. She says if Zuko leaves then she’s going with him and that Aang is acting completely unreasonable about this. This leads to Aang getting so upset he tries to force the others (Toph, Suki, and Sokka) pick a side (either siding with him or with Katara + Zuko.) Do you think this is too out of character for Aang or could be considered bashing? I feel like your stories are always really good on characterization without delving into outright bashing so I would like your thoughts and feedback on this please if you would like to answer.

I’m also not sure what to do with Sokka and his reaction to it all because before The Southern Raiders I would never have thought he’d side with Aang against Katara when she wanted to find her mother’s killer but it happened and it’s canon so it leaves me wondering what direction to go in.

As far as Sokka goes, personally, I think you can ignore his siding with Aang. It was an OOC moment that allegedly only happened because Bryke needed Aang to look reasonable. If you want to keep it in your story, have his motivation to side with Aang be something else. In my rewrite of that scene, he wasn't so much siding with Aang as he didn't want his sister to do something so dangerous and with no back up but Zuko. It's fic. You're not beholden to canon. Think of it as the Pirate Code. It's more of a set of guidelines than actual law.

As far as Aang, people are going to complain no matter what you do. As long as your story justifies him reacting that way, you're fine. But for the record, I don't think that'll be hard. That's not OOC for him.