#joel miller x autistic!reader

[daughterofthequeen]

You guys I just thought up the most angsty/fluffy fic for Joel Miller. Daughter!Reader with autism who stims(or ticks). I always wondered what happened to the people who stims but wasn’t bitten like the boy in the first episode(they most likely killed them in the beginning of the outbreak), but I’m going to start on it, I just haven’t figured out the whole storyline yet. What do you guys think?

EDITED:

A small snippet of the Joel Miller x autistic daughter!reader

[tlouonmedia]

Joel & Maria ft. Ellie

TLOU ISRAELI THEMES PALESTINE DRC SUDAN ALL IN ONE THREAD

[sockiestupidity]

The Dentist-Joel Miller x Platonic reader

Relashionship(s):Dentist Joel x reader (platonic)

Reader is implied to be autistic but i feel like its rlly obvi.

Warnings: Dental trauma, y/n used like once, Joel praises a lot (BUT NOT IN A SEXUAL WAY U FREAKS), use of sweetheart, bad writing

THIS IS TOTALLY NOT PROJECTING NOOOO

You knew this day would come, it was inevitable and yet, it still took you by surprise when it actually came. Your dentist appointment. Just the thought of stepping foot in a dentist office filled you with immense dread.

You tried to ignore your underlying anxiety as you got yourself into a comfortable outfit. You grab your comfort item and place it in your pocket, feeling grounded by the weight in your pocket.

Before you leave you decide to quickly brush your teeth and rinse with mouthwash, quickly flossing despite the fact that you had done so a couple earlier. A little extra maintenance could never hurt right? And maybe if you did well enough, your usual one hour teeth cleaning could hopefully turn into a 40 minute appointment. (which is so like unrealistic btw💀)

You grab your keys and start to lock your apartment once you headed out. Struggling to do so due to the anxious tremoring of your hands. You eventually succeed in locking your apartment successfully and leave the building.

As you walk towards the dentist office, which was fairly close to your apartment, you take deep, calming breaths, attempting to ease your anxiety. You never had any success at the dentist. You found the sound of drilling to be extremely overstimulating, and always cringed at the sound and feeling, of your teeth being scraped at. As you got older and your parents started lacking involvement in your life, you gained more leniency in the dental department, only scheduling for the dentist when you absolutely had to.

As a kid and even as an adult, you found difficulty with brushing your teeth most days. When at the dentist, you would be met with judgemental remarks about how "hating the flavor of your toothpaste", "having difficulty flossing", ''lacking motivation", and "forgetting" were not valid excuses and you had to brush no matter what. You were also laughed at by one of your past dentists for crying when she had started scraping at your teeth in a way that caused you pain.

Too lost in your thoughts, you barely even notice the fact that you had already entered the office. You take a deep breath and approach the receptionist.

"Hi Im checking in?" You manage to awkwardly squeak out. The receptionist nods and asks for your name. You give them your name and get checked in.

Once that is taken care of, you take a seat, bouncing your leg nervously as you wait for your name to be called.

"Y/N?" a man calls out. You get up and approach him.

He smiles softly "Hi, I'm Joel, I'll be doing your cleaning today."

You slowly nod, not fully acknowledging him, despite his comforting aura. Ever since your previous dentist had moved away, you had be anxious to return since you had little luck with finding gentle and understanding dentists such as her.

Deapite your underlying hostility, he attempted to chat with you as he lead you towards his room. Once you arrive you take a seat on the dental chair.

"Alright, since you're a new patient of mine, I need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?" He asks with a comforting tone.

You nod. "That's it." He praises "This shouldn't take too long." He pauses "Okay, first question. You ready?" You nod. He smiles again "Good. First question is pretty simple. How often do you brush?"

You hesitate, debating whether or not you could tell him the truth. You eye him up and down. You decide that based kff of his demeanor, you could probably trust him.

"As often as I can." you answer meekly. He nods and types your answer down in his computer.

"Thats alright. It's better to brush at least once in a while than not at all. Do you mind sharing why?"

You shrug "It's hard, toothpaste is gross n the brush always hurts."

He looks at you with understanding "Understable , I'll write down a couple of flavoured toothpaste recommendations for you so you can try them if you'd like. As for your brush, try using one with soft bristles. I know there's a lot of debate between hard bristles and soft bristles and which one is better currently, but I think softer bristles could really help you out. Don't tell anyone I said this but you could also give miswak toothbrushes a try. But again, don't tell anyone that I said that, it'll be a secret between the two of us."

You giggle slightly at that, causing his smile to widen. "Moving on from that, what about floss? How are your flossing habits?

You shake your head "Bad. Really bad. I can never floss right and I struggle a lot with it."

He nods "I'll give you some handheld floss to try, some people find more success with it."

You let out a relieved sigh, watching as he types up a couple of things again. "Any pain or discomfort?" you shake your head "That's good. I see here that your last dentist made a note saying that you struggle with remembering to brush your teeth or finding the motivation to do so?" you nod "May I suggest something for that?" you nod, curious as to what he has to say. "Theres a couple apps that I could right down for you that can remind you to brush your teeth, and give you rewards such as points to do so. Is that something you'd be interested in?" you nod "Good. we're all done eith questioning. mind laying back for me?.''

You hesitate, "Um before I do can I ask something?"

"Yeah sure, go ahead." He permits you.

"Can I- can I please wear my headphones?" you hold up your noise cancelling bluetooth headphones.

"Oh of course! Do whatever you need to do to be comfortable!" you smile slightly at that. You connect your headphones to your phone to play your favorite music (or show) in the background and lay back.

He lowers your chair and turns the light in front of your face on (idk what its called tbh.) you squint at the bright light ''Sorry about that. Would you like to borrow some sunglasses?" You nod.

He hands you a cheap pair of sunglasses and you put them on, dimming the bright light. He fastens the disposable bib around you (idk if there's an official name for it but thats the only way i can describe it💀).

He gets his tools out, causing you to tense up. "Hey, it's okay, take a deep breath yeah? I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm doing with each tool okay? We'll get through this together. I'm going to check up on you every once in a while, let me know if you need me to stop so you can take a break at any point."

You feel more reassured and comforted by this. Your body eases up and relaxes a bit. "That's it, good." He praises.

He puts on gloves and picks up two tools "So this to will be used to count your teeth and scrape at any plaque. This other tool is a mirror that will allow me to take a look at the back of your teeth as well." He informs you.

"You ready?" He asks gently. You nod "Good, open up yeah? If you can't open wide that's okay, I'll figure something out.

You manage to get through the whole cleaning, only tearing up slightly once. The whole time Joel makes sure to reassure you and provide praise throughout the whole process, stopping when you need a break, and making sure to inform you of every single action he makes.

Once you're done he gives you a cup to rinse and gets together a goody bag for you, placing his list of suggestions in there. "You did good today. I'd like to see you in six months but if it happens to be later than that I'm perfectly fine with it." He smiles and hands you the bag.

"Thank you Joel." You shyly thank him.

He smiles and nods "Anytime sweetheart."

You smile and exit the room, feeling the weight of dread lifting off your chest. You pay your copay at the front, deciding to schedule your next appointment later.

Once you arrive at your apartment you settle down and curiously look in your bag. Inside is a soft toothbrush, some handheld floss, his list, and a separate note. You decide to read the note out of curiosity. "I'm proud of you, looking forward to seeing if my tips helped you out. -Joel." You smile at the note at hold it close to you, dozing off with the note against your chest.

A/N: IDK WHAT THIS IS BUT ITS DEFINITELY SOMETHING IM SRRY IF ITS RLLY BAD I JUST WANTED TO WRITE AGAIN

ALSO I GOT RLLY LAZY AT THE END IF U CANT TELL ALSO ITS LOWK SHORT IM SRRY PPL

real talk some of this is based off of shit that actually happened to me like its kinda crazy.

once i told my dentist that i had a rlly hard tome finding the motivation to brush my teeth and she legit said "find the motivation"😐 also recently they changed ny dentist w/o telling me bc mine doesnt work weekends anymore and i started crying bc i wasnt told and the lady was like hurting me a lot and she laughed at me😝

anyways dental trauma is a very real thing esp for mentally ill/neurodivergent folks/autistic folks like i wish it was taken more seriously bc it leads to a lot of ppl neglecting their dental health

[magneticecstasy]

my joel miller au fic is going to end up longer than my 2 dissertations combined, what is wrong with me [apart from being feral for this man]

[furbywrites]

I'd Never Let You Go Pt. 1

So, this is my first fanfic. It's pretty rough. Constructive criticism welcome :)

Ao3

At the sudden reappearance of Joel and Ellie in Jackson, a lonely resident becomes enamored with the stoic man. Lacking social skills, they look from afar, thinking themself subtle in their admiration. Unbeknownst to them, Joel has also been admiring from afar, feeling just as incapable of forming any new emotional connection, but drawn to them regardless.

There were new arrivals in Jackson. Not entirely unusual; it was more so their initial dramatic entrance that caught my attention. They came, they left, and now they were back again. Normally I wouldn’t pay much attention, except for the fact that they seemed like such a mismatched pair. A younger girl and an old man, not father and daughter like I, and most others had assumed.

She was energetic, extroverted, and although hesitant at first, settled in nicely. The man was another story entirely. He kept to himself, made little conversation with anyone other than the girl, and Tommy of course. Estranged brothers from what I had gathered. I didn’t know Tommy well enough to delve into his family history. We spoke in passing, and even then very little. 

I wasn’t known for being talkative. This life has taught me that being quiet and keeping your head down helped things go smoothly. I’d been in Jackson for one year, and had no friends to speak of. Secluding myself was far too easy, especially in a world like this. Maybe that’s why I found myself so interested in him. We seemed so alike, but so different at the same time. Where he commanded respect with his presence alone, I blended into the scenery like a shadow.

I sat in the mess hall, attempting to discreetly take a peek from under my lashes. Joel Miller. He was scowling at his plate of food, until the girl, Ellie, read something from a book gripped in her hand. It was a subtle but noticeable uptick of his mouth, his guard coming down momentarily as he huffed a laugh with a shake of his head. It was these moments, a glimpse at the man beneath the mask, that continuously peaked my interest.

I gathered from the current town gossip that they had been through hell and back together. They must have an unbreakable bond if so. I felt almost envious of their relationship. No, not almost, I was.  

Joel was big, strong, and capable. Everything the people I survived with prior to Jackson hadn’t been. They had felt like a weight I carried on my shoulders, dragging me down, until eventually I had left to be on my own. I wish I could say it was easier. Some spiteful part of me wanted life to be easier without them, but going solo was far worse.

I was on death's door when a patrol group from Jackson had found me. The tips of my fingers frostbitten, feet numb and burning, stomach empty. I was dying. The worst part is, I could have gone back to my old group, they no doubt would have accepted me with open arms. But god, I was so humiliated at my own failure. I felt death was better than facing them again.

My eyes stung with oncoming tears at the memory, embarrassment heating my cheeks. The food before me suddenly looked less appealing, but I continued to eat it anyway. I looked once more towards Joel, glancing away hastily when we made eye contact. Not so subtle I guess.

His stare felt like it was burning me, somehow making the blush on my cheeks glow brighter all of his own accord. I took another glance, like gazing at him alone was somehow addictive. Taking in his uneven scruff, graying hair, soft brown eyes. One more look before I go. 

His gaze was unwavering. I could feel my heart pitter patter in my chest, the blush spreading to my ears. I stood quickly, in such a rush to leave the suddenly claustrophobic room. I left my food on the table and hurried out the door of the mess hall.

How humiliating. I can’t even make eye contact with him. A foolish fascination, a childish crush, turning me into a blubbering mess. I continued onwards, the crunch of dirt under my boots a welcome distraction, until the sound of another pair fast approaching became apparent.

“'scuse me.” 

My eyes widened, feeling as though they might pop out of my head and roll away. Much like I wished I could drop to the ground and roll away from this current situation. 

Joel had followed me.

I swallowed thickly, kept my head down and continued walking. I could hear him grunt in annoyance as he quickened his steps to catch up with me. Now walking side by side, I dared to look in his direction. “Would ya’ slow down for a minute?” he asked gruffly, brows furrowed heavily. 

Any normal person might. I am not normal. Most attempts at conversation by an average resident of Jackson caused anxiety to course through my body as though one of the infected were in front of me. With Joel? It was like my brain had turned off completely. 

I hastened my steps, turned my head to stare directly at the ground, watching my boots kick up dirt. I wasn’t even sure which direction I was walking in anymore. I just knew staying near him was a bad idea. I would say something stupid, or god forbid do something stupid.

I could hear him release a deep sigh, but he continued to walk with me. "You're real quiet, ya' know that?" he huffed, sounding almost annoyed. I frowned but said nothing. "Jus' wanna talk is all. Ya' don't gotta run from me."

[abbysbunny]

masterlist🧺

💤- hazel callahan . . .

jealous girl

hand obsessed!reader

hazel x autistic!reader

loser!hazel hc's

hazel x goth!reader

feelings aren't fake

birds don't sing

bbf!hazel

nsfw loser!hazel thoughts

video games

💌-ellie williams . . .

loser!ellie hc's

modern!ellie hc's

more modern!ellie hc's

hey sweetheart

short ellie hc's

spiderman!ellie hc's

slytherin!ellie hc's

streamer!ellie x streamer!reader

🦢-abby anderson . . .

push me down

moodboard

abby x coquette!reader

abby who hates rainy days

🎀-joel miller . . .

joel and his sleepy girl

joel x clingy!sensitive!reader

summer bummer

🕯️- lottie matthews . . .

smiley!lottie hc's

vampire!lottie hc's

bsfs to lovers

zoo date

modern!lott hc's

🌑-natalie scartoccio . . .

photo booth with nat

jealous!nat hc's

bsf nat taking your virginity

perfect girl

gf!nat hc's

modern!nat hc's

🌟-lottienat . . .

eeping with lottienat

🪷-jackie taylor . . .

post crash!jackie hc's

🌼-shauna shipman . . .

loser!shauna

gf!shauna hc's

🧸-arthur morgan . . .

arthur helping you draw

arthur falling in love with you

🎾-tashi duncan . . .

dating tashi duncan hc's

💌-art donaldson . . .

sunshine!reader x art donaldson

💫-tashi and art . . .

being tashi and art's sugar baby

🍒-rafe cameron

deer!reader and rafe hc's

bf!rafe hc's

🦴-leon kennedy . . .

leon x virgin!reader

🌺-nanami kento . . .

husband nanami kento hc's

[sageluvsjoel]

A Different Kind of Miracle

jackson!joel miller x reader x autistic!daughter

Requested HERE

part two here

masterlist

summary: Joel faces challenges understanding his daughter’s differences, but learns how to connect with her in meaningful ways.

genre: fluff, slight hurt to comfort, post outbreak

wc: 1.5k

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

i do not authorize plagiarism or copying of my work!

Jackson was the kind of place that made Joel uneasy. The sense of safety, the quiet that settled over the town at night, it was almost unnatural. He had grown too accustomed to danger lurking in every corner, too used to living with his guard up, waiting for the next threat. But here, in this community, there was peace—a foreign concept after two decades of nothing but violence, death, and loss.

At first, he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it, honestly. But then, you came along. And with you, came the greatest miracle of his life—a little girl, his daughter.

Joel had never imagined being a father again. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to be. Losing Sarah had gutted him, left him a shell of a man who had given up on the idea of family, of love. But then you’d walked into his life, unexpected and undeniable, and before he knew it, the two of you had a daughter. It was like the world had found a way to give him a second chance, something he never thought he’d get.

At first, Joel was terrified. He was older now, more worn down by the world, but you’d reassured him. Together, you’d raise her. Together, you’d be the family he thought he’d lost forever.

She was his little miracle. But lately, Joel found himself… confused. Worried, even. She wasn’t like other kids. At first, he didn’t think much of it—every kid was different, after all. But as she got older, there were little things he couldn’t ignore anymore. She rarely looked him in the eye, didn’t babble like Ellie or the other kids her age. Sometimes, she’d play alone for hours, completely immersed in whatever world she’d created for herself, but if he tried to change her routine, she’d fall apart. Meltdowns that he didn’t understand would follow—her little body shaking as she screamed, inconsolable.

He hated it. Not her, never her, but the helplessness he felt every time it happened. He was used to fixing things, solving problems with his hands, with action. But this? He didn’t even know what it was, let alone how to fix it.

It was a cold morning when you first brought it up, sitting on the porch outside your little house in Jackson, your daughter playing quietly in the yard. She was lining up her toy blocks in neat, perfect rows, just as she always did. Joel watched her, sipping from his coffee mug, his face set in that familiar frown.

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice careful. “Have you… noticed anything with her? I mean, I know you have, but I mean… more than just being quiet?”

He grunted, not taking his eyes off your daughter. “She’s just a kid. They’re all different. She’ll grow out of it.”

You sighed, placing your hand on his. “I don’t think she will. I’ve been reading about… autism. I think that might be what’s going on.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he turned to look at you, his expression hard to read. “Autism? What the hell’s that got to do with her? She’s fine. She’s just—she’s just young. All kids act weird.”

You shook your head, your eyes gentle but firm. “It’s more than that, Joel. The meltdowns, the way she lines things up, how she doesn’t respond to her name half the time. I think she’s struggling, and we need to help her. But first, we need to understand what’s going on.”

He pulled his hand away, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know, alright? I’ve been through a lot of shit, but I don’t know anything about this. This is… I don’t know what to do with this, alright? I can’t fix it.”

You reached for his hand again, and this time, he didn’t pull away. “Joel, she doesn’t need fixing. She’s perfect just the way she is. But she does need us to see her, to understand her. And you know what? We’ll figure it out together. We don’t have to do it alone.”

Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, like there was something he couldn’t control. He hated it. But he couldn’t argue with you either. He trusted you, more than anyone in this world, and if you thought something was going on, then maybe… maybe you were right.

That night, Joel lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your soft breathing beside him the only sound in the room. His mind raced, thoughts swirling around his daughter, around the word you’d said—autism. It wasn’t something he understood. Hell, he hadn’t even heard of it before the outbreak, and back then, his world had been so small, revolving around work and raising Sarah. He hadn’t thought much about things like that.

But now, it was different. He had to understand, because this was his little girl, his miracle, and he’d be damned if he let her struggle without doing everything in his power to help her.

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

The days turned into weeks, and Joel found himself paying more attention to the things he hadn’t noticed before. He saw the way she flinched at loud noises, the way she covered her ears when there were too many people around. He saw the way she fixated on certain toys or routines, how any deviation sent her spiraling into a meltdown that left her exhausted and him feeling helpless.

But he also saw the little things. The way she smiled, just for a moment, when she was lost in her own world. The way her tiny hands carefully placed each block in a perfect line, her focus so intense it almost made him laugh. She was so different from anyone he’d ever known, but she was also so her—beautiful, smart, and his.

One evening, after a particularly rough day of trying to get her to wear a new pair of shoes, Joel sat on the porch, his head in his hands. The frustration had gotten the better of him, and for a moment, he’d snapped, raising his voice in a way that made her cry. He hated himself for it, hated the look of fear in her eyes, the way she’d flinched when he yelled.

“I don’t know what to do,” he muttered as you sat down beside him, rubbing his back gently. “I don’t know how to help her.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and understanding. “It’s okay, Joel. It’s hard. But you’re doing your best, and that’s what matters. She knows you love her. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

Joel closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him. But then, from inside the house, he heard a small voice.

“Daddy?”

It was soft, almost hesitant, but it was there. His heart leapt into his throat, and he stood up, walking into the living room where his daughter stood, her blocks in her hands. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes full of uncertainty, but there was something else there, too—something he hadn’t seen before.

“What is it, baby girl?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could manage.

She didn’t answer right away, but she held out a block, offering it to him. It was such a small gesture, but to Joel, it felt like the world shifted. She was reaching out to him, in her own way, trying to connect.

He knelt down, taking the block from her hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s a good one.”

For a moment, she smiled, just a little, before turning back to her toys. Joel stayed there, on the floor, watching her, his heart swelling with a mix of love and pain. She was different, yes. But she was also perfect.

That night, as he lay in bed beside you, he whispered into the quiet, “I’ll learn. I’ll figure out how to be the dad she needs.”

You smiled in the darkness, your hand finding his. “You already are.”

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

The weeks and months that followed weren’t easy. There were still moments of frustration, of helplessness, but Joel found himself changing. He learned to meet his daughter where she was, to understand her needs instead of trying to fit her into a mold she didn’t belong in. He learned to listen, not just with his ears, but with his heart. And slowly, bit by bit, he saw her blossom.

One day, as the two of them sat together on the porch, Joel handed her one of her favorite toys, a small wooden horse. She took it, studying it carefully before turning to him with a small, soft smile.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

And just like that, everything was worth it. Every struggle, every moment of doubt—it all faded away in the face of that simple, precious moment.

Joel Miller had spent his whole life fighting, surviving. But now, with his little girl in his arms, he realized that this—this was what he had been fighting for all along.

A different kind of miracle.

to be added to my tag list click HERE and comment

[loslentesdepedrito]

A Restless Night

Bottom left gif by: fourdev, top right gif by: @a7estrellas

My Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Word count: 2.7k+

Summary: You have issues with sensory processing, making it difficult for you to fall asleep. After a restless night of tossing and turning, Joel awakens, determined to do everything in his power to help you sleep.

A/N: I wrote this based on my own experiences with SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) as someone who has ASD. I refrained from labeling it as x ASD!reader because not everyone who struggles with SPD is autistic/autism, and not everyone who is autistic/has autism has SPD. Also, just a gentle reminder that every individual's experience with ASD varies significantly. If you’ve met one person with ASD, you’ve met ONE person with ASD. Enjoy!

Rating: 18+ Suggestive. Nothing explicit, but this is an 18+ page. Warnings: No Outbreak, hurt/comfort, slight angst, suggestive stuff, insomnia, food consumption, taking an Antihistamine pill.

In the eerie and suffocating stillness of the night, the angry crimson glow of the alarm clock projects the harsh reality onto the walls. The room, cloaked in darkness punctuated only by the faintest glow of the alarm clock, offers no solace. Silently, the digital clock announces the unyielding passage of time: 2:04 AM. With your eyes repeatedly drawn to the clock, you become a silent observer of your own restless fight for sleep.

Minutes dragged on, each one worse than the last. In vain hope, you closed your eyes, waiting for the elusive embrace of sleep. Frustration mounted, and your whispered mantra of "just go to sleep" echoed in the void, its efficacy long worn thin. At this point, the words are obsolete—they hold no meaning for you or your brain.

Your sheets, supposed sanctuary, became your tormentor. The sheets cradle your form, and your fingertips discern every thread, every imperfection in the fabric. Lying on them felt like lying on a box of sand. Even clothed parts weren’t exempt from the torture, as the sheets, like sandpaper against your skin, induced insufferable itchiness. The fabric, an abrasive paper, scratched against your tender skin, leaving trails of discomfort in its wake. Your nails dug into flesh, offering brief respite. The noise it made made you cringe, but you couldn't stop scratching.

Another hell was your hair. Endless adjustments led to desperation, and you gathered it into a makeshift crown atop your head, a futile attempt to detach it from your body. The sheets then morphed into a layer of microscopic needles, punctuating your flesh, and it could almost leave a trail of welts.

The silent plea for rest fell on deaf pillows. Experimenting with positions in the hope of finding the right combination, you lay facing the ceiling, then Joel, then turning away from him—the dance of insomnia continued. After each position, you stayed still, closed your eyes... and nothing. All movements amplified your discomfort, especially the rustling of the loathed sheets, adding to your torment.

An unseen army of ants seemed to crawl across you, their presence beneath your skin. The sensory assault intensified, feeling like the ants invaded your hair, their microscopic footsteps on your pillow resonating in your ears.  

As your nails dig into your scalp, a brief moment of panic washes over you, fearing that actual animals might be crawling on you. However, a deep breath and rational thinking help you dispel the irrational fear. Reassuring yourself, you repeat, You’re just making things up, it’s okay, you’re okay.

Just for reassurance, you pass your fingernails through your neck where you feel the phantom animals. When you look at your hand, it’s empty. A sigh of relief escapes you. Closing your eyes for what feels like the millionth time, the sheets below you rustle. "I can’t take it any longer," you mutter to yourself just above a whisper. Just as you're about to jump out of bed, you feel your husband stir beside you. 

He wakes up in somewhat of a panic, his big hand reaching out to feel for you. You find comfort in his touch, and it gives you something else to focus on. In the dark room, Joel looks around, reassured by the presence he feels beneath his touch. Knowing the room is clear, he turns his face to look at you.

“Shit. I’m sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep, baby,” you murmur, breaking the silence.

Concern etches Joel's face as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

"Nada. Duermeté (nothing. go to sleep)," you downplay.

"Nah uh. What’s wrong?" he persists, turning to his right to flick on the lamp on the nightstand. The soft glow reveals the exhaustion on your face.

His eyes linger on your tired face and he swiftly moves closer.

“I can’t sleep,” you confess, the vulnerability in your admission apparent in the dimly lit room.

“Do you want me to hold you?” 

"No thanks. I don’t think that’ll help right now," you say sincerely, a subtle shake in your voice.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Joel asks, unable to simply stand by while you suffer.

"I don't know, I just can’t sleep," you admit, your voice breaking. 

Your husband's heart aches at the strain in your voice and the glistening of tears in your eyes. "What do you think will help?" Joel asks gently, willing to do absolutely anything. 

You shrug, a gesture of helplessness. "The sheets. They just feel rough on my skin. It’s itchy. I keep scratching, but nothing helps." 

Joel's gaze softens with empathy as he registers the genuine distress in your words. With a gentle touch, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of his calloused skin against yours brings you a sense of peace.

"'M sorry. I fell asleep and didn't even think about it. I was waitin' for you to get home-"

You gently interrupt, your voice laced with understanding. "Joel, sweetheart, this isn't your fault. I was excited to go to bed next to you; I forgot about the sheets too."

Fully sitting up on the bed now, you position yourself on your knees, facing your husband. Cupping his face in your hands, you assure him, "Don't feel bad. You work hard. I know you wanted to wait for me, but you passed out 'cus you're tired."

Joel responds by nuzzling his face into your hands. "I'm supposed to comfort you, you know?" he chuckles lightly, his hazel eyes radiating love.

Smirking playfully, you respond, "And how are you going to comfort me?"

Joel starts to shift, but upon feeling the sheets, his hands freeze, remembering the issue. As he thinks about what's different about the sheets tonight, Joel's expression shifts, realization dawning. "Fuck. Our usual sheets are still air drying. We can go check on them, but they're probably still damp, sweetheart."

"Yeah. Sorry about that," you say with a sheepish grin, feeling a flush of warmth spreading across your skin. The sheets had been rendered wet and soaked from the intimate activities of the previous night. Given their delicate nature and high-end price point, the sheets couldn't be tossed into the dryer, so you had to buy emergency sheets from the nearest store.  

A playful glint dances in Joel's eyes as a satisfied smile graces his lips. "My back still hurts. Thank you for that, honey." 

"Oh, please, I did most of the work. You've gotten lazy on me, Miller," you tease, your words infused with playfulness.

"Lazy?" he exclaims. "You squir-"

You swiftly cover his mouth, your whisper-yell barely audible, "Joel! The kids will hear you." Your words are hushed, ensuring they stay just above a whisper.

Joel rolls his eyes, his voice returning to normal as he lowers his tone. "You squirted all over the bed!" he playfully exclaims. "I'll show you lazy," he scoffs. In a swift motion, Joel gently rolls you over, a shared laugh escaping both of you. As he lowers himself, eliminating any remaining space between your bodies. You expect the warmth of his lips, but just as the closeness intensifies, he lifts himself away, leaving the bed.

Before you have a chance to berate him, Joel places one hand on his waist, the other on his beard, rubbing his stubble. A furrow forms on his brow as he puts his tongue to the right side, creating a bump on his cheek. "Maybe we can do something about the sheets. Would you like a different one, or perhaps I can find something to soothe your skin? I should have laid something different underneath you." 

The spare sheets you had kept for such situations ended up damaged during the move to your new house—the one you and Joel had designed together. Amidst the chaotic process of relocating, your attention was divided between ensuring the safety of Sarah’s books and your youngest daughter's beloved stuffed animals. In a moment of distraction, you accidentally dropped the extended sheet onto the floor. When you hastily pulled it up, the fabric caught onto the door, resulting in an unfortunate tear right down the middle.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal because they were your backup sheets, and you were certain that getting a new backup pair would suffice, given your primary sheets were still intact. However, the problem became apparent when you forgot to place the order, and with your main sheets damp, you found yourself without an immediate solution.

"You're helping now; that's all that matters," you tell Joel, getting up from the bed.

He gives you a smile and then asks, "Are the sheets the only problem or the blanket too?"

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you pause, settling on the edge of the bed. "Just the sheets," you affirm with a small exhale.

"I’ll find something to put underneath you," Joel assures.

"I’ll go to the restroom. See if that helps," you say, walking over to him.

Before you can make it to the restroom, your stomach rumbles audibly. "Great, and now I'm hungry," you groan, a hint of frustration in your tone.

"Ya comiste? (Did you eat already?)" 

You nod. “I had some of the mosaic jello the girls made after I came home from work."

“My love, that’s not enough to fill your stomach," Joel responds softly.

"I know; I was tired and just wanted to sleep."

"Oh, sweetheart, come here," he beckons, closing the distance between you.

Joel envelops you in a comforting embrace, his touch proving to be a solace without causing any discomfort. When you lie still, a wave of overwhelming sensations tends to surge, particularly due to the absence of distraction. The stillness becomes a canvas, intensifying your heightened sensitivity. It's worth noting that in your day-to-day life, your clothes can also be bothersome, primarily because of your aversion to certain fabrics.

"Go to the bathroom, and I promise to make everything better, okay?"

"Okay," you reply, and Joel seals the agreement with a tender kiss on the top of your head. With that, you make your way to the en suite bathroom.

Exiting the bathroom, your eyes are drawn to the bed. Joel has carefully laid down a thin cream-colored sheet – the salvageable portion of your once-intact backup sheet. At the foot of the bed sits a small foldable table over the ottoman.

Joel enters through the bedroom door, shirtless, balancing a plate of food and a cup. The darkness obscures the details of what he has on hand.

"I made Camarones a la diabla (Deviled Shrimp)," he announces, placing the plate atop the table. "And a cup of horchata," he adds, the room now enveloped in the rich aroma of the dish.

You wordlessly thank him, and with the fork from the plate, you scoop up a spoonful of the sauce and pair it with a mound of fluffy white rice. The flavors dance on your tongue, prompting an involuntary "mmm" of appreciation. "Oh my God," you exclaim with delight, savoring the delicious food. "It tastes so good!" 

He patiently waits for the audible gulp, a signal that you've swallowed the mouthful, before teasingly saying, "That's what you said last night."

"Shut up," you playfully elbow him, a laugh escaping your lips. "Me destie mucho (you gave me too much), I don't think I can finish it," you tell him. He chuckles and reaches into his sweatpants' pockets, fishing out a fork. "That's what I was hoping you'd say." 

Reaching into the other pocket, he retrieves a foil package. "Oh, and I got you some Benadryl."

You smile at him, accepting the package. With delicate fingers, you peel back the foil, taking out a single pink pill. Without hesitation, you swallow it down with a sip of the horchata. 

As you both continue to enjoy the dish, Joel finishes his portion first. He rises from the ottoman and heads to the nightstand, prompting your curiosity as he opens the bottom drawer. Your gaze follows him as he retrieves your body brush and a bottle you've never seen before.

Returning to you, Joel asks with a knowing look, "Up for the brush, love? You know it helps with the itchiness." Agreeing, you nod, and he gently guides you to the bed. You lie down, and the softness of the sheets beneath you finally soothes you.

His strokes with the dry brush are methodical and gentle, the bristles gliding effortlessly over every inch of your extremities. With each pass, a deep exhale escapes, and you feel tension dissipating as if melting away, allowing your body to succumb to a state of complete relaxation, and the itchiness gives way to a calming sensation.

"Thank you, Joel. It really does make a difference."

Once he's done with the brush, Joel presents the bottle he got from the drawer. "I know you don’t always like lotion, but I bought something I saw online a few days ago. Would you be willing to give it a try? People say it doesn’t leave that filmy sensation," he explains, his eyes reflecting a hopeful sincerity.

"Does it have a smell?"

"It's supposed to be odorless," Joel replies with a hint of pride in his voice. He had done extensive research, well aware of your aversion to the lingering sensation of lotions. The avoidance of body lotions is a common thing for you, and he had made it his mission to find a solution that aligns with your preferences.

"I want to try it." 

"If you don't like it, we'll wash it right off," Joel reassures, deftly opening the lotion bottle and squirting a small amount into the palm of his hand. He then proceeds to apply the cream to your left hand just above your wrist. The initial coldness prompts a sigh of relief from you. Joel lifts his hand off your skin, allowing the lotion to settle. As you open your eyes, there's a pleasant surprise—it feels good. "Wait, it's actually good. It doesn't feel sticky on my skin," you say with genuine amazement.

"Really?" Joel responds, his excitement evident.

"Yeah," you laugh. "Thank you, honey," you add, your gratitude almost bringing tears to your eyes at the thoughtfulness of your husband.

"No tears, okay?" he insists.

You nod, and he pulls you up, giving you a sweet kiss. You melt into his lips, and just as the kiss starts to deepen, he pulls away, helping you stand up. 

"Let's go brush our teeth," Joel suggests. You both head back into the bathroom and after finishing there, Joel takes the plate and cup into the kitchen. As you wait for him to return to the room, you neatly put away the brush and lotion, deciding to store them in your restroom. When you return to the room, Joel is already back, seated on the ottoman, engrossed in his phone.

"What are you doing?" you ask, walking over to him. 

"Just ordered some stuff," he replies.

Climbing onto the bed, you rest your head on his shoulder, peeking at his phone with curiosity. 

"Three more sheets?" you ask, shocked.

"We need to be ready, sweetie," Joel says, turning his head to look back at you.

"Joel, that's a lot of money," you express your concern.

"What do you say all the time?" he asks, unbothered by the cost.

"Mas vale prevenir que lamentar," you say begrudgingly, knowing that Joel is right. 

"Exactly, better safe than sorry, and what else?" 

"Uno nunca sabe, (One never knows)" you mumble grumpily.

"Mhm! They'll be here in three days," he informs you, turning his phone off and climbing onto the bed.

"Joel! Expedited shipping?" you exclaim, now on your knees.

"What did we just talk about? Only the best for my wife," he says, adjusting the quilt to prepare for sleep.

"Okay, fine. But you better not spoil me too much."

He chuckles warmly. "Of course, I will, my love. Ready to go to bed?"

With a playful eye roll, you nod. "Yes, but I think it’ll help if I sleep upside down." 

"Head on the foot of the bed?" Joel asks.

"Yes," you reply, loving that he knows you so well.

Joel puts your pillows on the end of the bed. "Come on," he says, resting his head on the pillow and opening his arms for you.

You eagerly get into bed and lie there, smiling.

"Thank you," you say.

"No need to thank me. You know I'd do anything for you," Joel assures.

"I know, baby. I love you," you tell Joel with a yawn.

"I love you," he replies, and you finally drift off to sleep peacefully.

Extended note: Joel finally gets a happy ending! I don't usually write HEAs for him, but this piece is one of my favorites that I've written about him. I had trouble falling asleep yesterday, and I remembered I had written this, so I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment and reblog if you'd like!

@pedrostories

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the library

plum, chapter six

a/n: i don’t think i’ve ever written about anything as close to my heart as this… like sure, other fandoms have been something that i’ve truly and deeply loved and known way way too much about, but this one is just at a different level. like it’s one of those that for so long seemed way too personal to ever write about. 10 years. 10 fucking years of loving a story in a life-altering way, being autistic so diving into it in a way that makes you more than qualified to then write fanfic about it lol (i know too much, it’s borderline painful lol). idk i’m just having a moment tonight where i’m just like wow…

warnings: Joel Miller x reader, MILD SPOILERS for the last of us (both games and the hbo series), slow burn, age gap (20 years), timeline wise this is set in between the first and second game (so when they live in Jackson), ptsd, violence, angst, weapons, zombies

word count: 886

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Oh, man…” you breathed out as your fingertips ghosted over the dusty spines of the many novels lined up in front of you. 

You’d snuck out. Like a teenager in the night, you’d snuck out of Jackson. You weren’t particularly proud of it, being way too seasoned not to know the stupidity of not even leaving a note. 

But it was just a small trip, a few hours tops. You’d be back before anyone would realise you were gone. You just knew that they wouldn’t have let you go if you’d spoken up, at least not alone. 

With a few books already reserved, the hardcovers pressed tightly against your chest, locked in place by your forearm, you glanced up and spotted a particularly intriguing title, one that tickled a memory long forgotten. Lifting yourself onto your tiptoes and reaching your free hand up as far as it would go, your fingertips only managed to kiss the binding, not gaining nearly enough of a hold to simply get it down.

Giving it a few forceful pokes, hoping that it would just push the book enough for you to be able to grasp it fully and therefore quietly get it down, it instead came crashing down, causing not only a cloud of dust to puff up in the abandoned library but also sent a deafening thump echoing down deep within the vast building. 

Freezing up, barely even breathing at all, you glanced down at the dropped book and a cluster of bloodcurdling guttural screeches found your ears. As silently as you could manage, you reached for your knife, having not been able to grab a firearm back at Jackson since they were under much more significant security. 

The library evidently wasn’t as vacant as you thought. There were two, maybe three clickers scattered somewhere in the many rows of bookcases surrounding you. 

Needing both hands to defend yourself, you slowly shifted the books in your arm and slid the pile onto an open spot on the dusty shelf in front of you. Holding your breath, you hoped the action hadn’t created too much noise. 

Standing still, standing ever so still, you heard one of the creatures creep closer. Tightening your grip around the handle of your blade, you watched as the blooming fungi appeared around the corner. 

Debating for a moment if you should strike out or just keep standing there, hoping you could somehow hide amongst the stories long enough for you to eventually somehow slip out, the sudden shriek it produced as it whipped towards you made that decision for you. 

Having luck on your side, your knife found purchases in the monster’s neck and as you sliced it open, exposing its mutated vocal cords, the clicker dropped to the floor, the ruckus alarming the rest of your exact location. 

The second one being closer than you’d imagined, the fight was a struggle, ultimately forcing you to the ground as the infected gnawed atop of you, biting the air in hope that your tender flesh would accompany some of it. 

And just as you thought this was it, that you had lost all hope of triumph, a gunshot rang out amidst the books, blowing a lethal hole into the creature’s skull.

Sucking in a startled breath, you shoved the corpse off of you and before you could manage to get back up on your feet, an outstretched hand appeared in front of your face. 

Blinking up at Joel in alarm, the loud cry of the last remaining creature had you holding your sharp tongue. Accepting his aid, you got back up and quickly took a look around, prepared for the noisy gunshot to have sent the final one sprinting in your direction. 

Your sudden wide eyes being enough of a clue for Joel to catch, he whirled around, covering your body with his broad form and lifted up his pistol, ready to unload into the clicker scampering towards you. 

It was only when it laid unmoving on the ground that you noticed how his hand was holding onto your midsection and shielding you protectively. Ripping it away at once, you then gave his sturdy form a big shove, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“What am I doing-, what are you doing here?” Joel bellowed, “the hell were you thinking running off like that? Do you know how reckless, how goddamn stupid that was?”

Fighting the urge to slap him across that salt-and-pepper cheek of his, you scowled, “did you follow me?”

Either he purposefully ignored your question or else he was just way too wrapped up in his own fury not to continue, “do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

“I can take care of a few infected myself,” you wiped your blade clean against your jeans, then folded it back up and tucked it away in your pocket. 

“I know that.”

“Then why-”

“Because the infected aren’t the only threat out here and you know it,” he dared to say. His twitching face softened ever so slightly at the grave look that flooded your features. “They are still out there, Y/n.”

Blood boiling, you turned around on your heel, picked up the abandoned books and determinedly walked towards the exit, bumping your shoulder heatedly into him as you passed.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[daughterofthequeen]

Update👏👏👏

GOOD NEWS!!!!

ɪ ᴀᴍ ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴡᴀʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ (ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅs ᴏɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ sᴛᴀʀ�� ᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ) ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ x ᴀᴜᴛɪsᴛɪᴄ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜰɪᴄ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏs ᴏɴʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ. ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ!

[nickeverdeen]

https://www.tumblr.com/nickeverdeen/759892946103468032/accident?source=share

It's okay I can do it lol I might not remember exactly what I said that day but probably it was something in these same waters:

A jesse imagine with a fem!autistic!reader, just the same context as the first hcs you posted for someone a while ago. So, jesse and reader know each other, but this is set before they start dating. They know each other, they have brief talks sometimes (around ellie because she's their common friend, or in the in the gatherings at the millers when everyone is invited for dinners, etc) and, you know, he has a crush on her. Would even be cool to have some details in the imagine like since when he started having feelings for her, what was his first impressions of her, how did he got to know she was autistic (did someone tell him or he noticed something by himself? Or it was just a common knowledge in jackson for everyone?). But because she's introspective with people she doesn't really have intimacy, he finds hard to approach her in a way of finding a connection to her, he doesn't know if he would scare her or make her feel uncomfortable if he was too bold. So he begins to notice (by watching her) that she likes to paint and draw sometimes (he's pretty sure he heard someone say that it was one of her hyperfocus), he sees that she sometimes paints ellie's tattoo with markers or makeup when they hang together on her place, and he's pretty sure he saw Joel sitting on tommy and maria's couch and letting reader draw on his hand with a pen in some of the gatherings, when they were both bored.

So he has an ideia. He goes through his stuff until he finds some sketches his 12 year old self did (In my headcanon, he thought about getting a tattoo when Cat came to town and he found out she did tattoos, but he eventually let that idea go). Well, now he has a pretty good reason to have a tattoo. if it doesn't work, at least it will be covered by his shoulder.

So... Yeah he shows to her by the end lol I won't give details on this one tho, I'm pretty sure her reaction or anything that would be written after this point you would plan better than me.

I love you so much, cariño, and I’m so sorry again that you had to rewrite it

————————————————

A Sketch of Connection | Jesse x autistic fem!reader

Summary: The thriving community is a refuge for survivors, where life is beginning to feel a little more normal for Jesse when he meets you.

———————————

Jesse stood just outside of the mess hall, leaning against the wooden post as he watched the world move around him. His gaze was focused on you, sitting a few yards away with Ellie, both of you engrossed in some quiet activity. He couldn’t help but smile, noting how your concentration on whatever you were doing seemed to block out the noise and chaos of the busy day around you.

He’d been trying to get closer to you for a while now, ever since Ellie introduced you both. She spoke of you often, mentioning your incredible talent for painting and how you seemed to find solace in your art in a way that few others did. Jesse had noticed it too, in the small things—how your hands would twitch and fidget when you were in a room full of people, how loud noises would make you flinch slightly, or how you would sometimes eat your food in a very particular order, as if certain textures didn’t sit well with you.

Ellie had mentioned once, offhandedly, that you were autistic, something Jesse hadn’t fully understood but had since looked into. He learned about stimming, about the sensitivity to certain stimuli, and how social interactions could sometimes be challenging. It made him more aware, more cautious in his approach. He didn’t want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable, but he was desperate to find a way to connect with you beyond the surface-level conversations they shared at Miller’s house during group dinners.

As he watched, he noticed how you seemed completely absorbed in drawing on Ellie’s forearm with a marker, probably adding some intricate design around her tattoo. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you do that. He’d even seen Joel let you doodle on his hand once, a rare occurrence considering how much Joel guarded his personal space. It was then that an idea started forming in Jesse’s mind—a way to get closer to you, to understand you better, and maybe, just maybe, open a door to something more.

Later that night, he rummaged through his old belongings, finding the sketchbook he’d kept as a kid. Flipping through the pages, he found what he was looking for—an old sketch he’d made when he was about twelve. It was of a wolf, fierce and wild, something he’d thought was cool back then. Jesse had briefly considered getting it tattooed when Cat had passed through Jackson, but the idea had faded away. Now, though, it seemed like the perfect excuse. If nothing else, it would be a conversation starter, a way to share something personal with you.

The next morning, Jesse found himself in front of Cat’s place, the small parlor she’d set up in her spare time, tattooing those who wanted to leave a permanent mark on their skin. He explained what he wanted, showing her the old sketch.

Jesse sat down in the worn, comfortable chair in Cat’s makeshift tattoo parlor, a small room she had converted into her own little artistic haven. The walls were lined with sketches and ink samples, a testament to her skill. He handed her the sketch of the wolf he’d drawn years ago, watching as she studied it with a critical eye.

“This is good,” she said, nodding in approval. “Didn’t know you were an artist, Jesse.”

“Not really,” he replied with a shrug. “Just doodles from when I was a kid.”

Cat raised an eyebrow, still examining the lines of the drawing. “Well, it’s better than half the stuff people bring me. Where do you want it?”

Jesse hesitated, then lifted the edge of his shirt to expose his shoulder. “Here, I think. It’s kinda personal, so I’d like to keep it hidden most of the time.”

“Personal, huh?” Cat murmured, setting up her equipment. She nodded towards the chair, and Jesse shifted to give her better access to his shoulder. As she prepped the area, she kept glancing at him, clearly sensing there was more to the story. “So, what made you finally decide to get it done? This sketch’s been in your drawer for years.”

Jesse bit his lip, debating how much to share. Cat had a way of getting people to open up, even when they weren’t sure they wanted to. “There’s this girl,” he finally admitted, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “Y/N.”

Cat’s hands paused for a moment, and she shot him a knowing look. “Ah, so this is about that pretty girl Ellie’s been talking about.”

Jesse felt his face heat up, but he chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is. I wanted a reason to talk to her more, something to connect us. She’s… she’s really into art, and I thought maybe if I got this, we could… I don’t know, bond over it?”

Cat smirked, clearly amused. “That’s sweet, Jesse. I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

He laughed, a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m not usually, but she’s different, you know? I just want to get to know her better, without scaring her off.”

“You’re doing something right,” Cat said, her voice softer now as she began to work on his tattoo. “From what I hear, Y/N’s not the easiest person to get close to. But you’re willing to take it slow, let her come to you. That’s good. Shows you care.”

Jesse smiled, relaxing into the chair as the familiar buzz of the tattoo machine filled the room. “Yeah, I do. I just hope she sees that.”

Cat worked in silence for a while, focused on her art. When she finished, she wiped down the tattoo and admired her work, giving Jesse a satisfied nod. “Looks good. You’re gonna knock her socks off with this.”

Jesse glanced in the mirror she held up, taking in the new addition to his shoulder. The wolf looked fierce, just like he’d imagined it would all those years ago. But now, it carried a new meaning, one tied to the hope of getting closer to you.

Cat cleaned up her tools, then glanced at Jesse with a teasing grin. “Don’t worry, Jesse. Your pretty girl’s gonna love it. And if she’s smart, she’ll see you for the good guy you are.”

Jesse’s heart skipped a beat at her words, and he couldn’t help but grin back. “Thanks, Cat. I really hope so.”

As he left the parlor, the new tattoo burning slightly under his shirt, Jesse felt more determined than ever to show you just how much you meant to him. And with Cat’s words echoing in his mind, he couldn’t wait to see where this new connection might lead.

He waited a few days before approaching you, nervous about how you might react. One evening, when the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains, casting a golden glow over Jackson, he spotted you sitting on a bench outside, your sketchbook in your lap. Jesse took a deep breath and walked over, trying to keep his usual easygoing demeanor despite the knot of nerves in his stomach.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, taking a seat next to you. You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips, which gave him the courage to continue. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” you replied softly, closing your sketchbook but keeping your hands fidgeting with the edge of the cover.

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled at the collar of his shirt to reveal his shoulder. “I, uh, got a tattoo the other day. Wanted to show you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, curiosity piqued as you leaned in closer to get a better look. Jesse noticed how your fingers stilled for a moment before you reached out, hesitating just before touching his skin. He nodded, giving you permission, and you gently traced the lines of the tattoo with a featherlight touch.

“It’s… really good,” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of awe. “The wolf, it looks strong.”

Jesse smiled, relieved by your reaction. “Yeah, it’s something I drew when I was a kid. Thought it would be cool to finally get it inked.”

You nodded, your focus still on the tattoo. “It’s a good design… you used to draw?”

“A little,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “Not as good as you, though. I’ve seen your work—Ellie brags about it all the time.”

A small blush crept up your cheeks, and you looked down, clearly pleased but unsure how to respond. Jesse decided to take the plunge, hoping this would bring you closer.

“I was thinking,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “maybe… you could design my next tattoo? I mean, if you’re up for it. I’d love to have something of yours.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You… you want me to design something for you?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, his tone earnest. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. I just thought it could be something we do together.”

You took a moment to process his request, your fingers idly tracing the pattern of the tattoo again as you considered it. Finally, you nodded, a small but genuine smile on your lips. “I’d like that, Jesse. I’d really like that.”

Relief and excitement washed over him. “Great! We can start whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

You nodded again, a bit more confident now. “Maybe… tomorrow? We can meet here, and I can show you some ideas.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jesse replied, his heart swelling with affection. He’d taken a step closer to you, not just by asking for your artistic help, but by showing you that he valued you—your creativity, your thoughts, and your presence in his life.

As the two of you sat there, chatting softly about possible designs, Jesse couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of something special. And as you began to open up, sharing more about your art and your ideas, he knew that whatever this was, it was worth every moment of patience and understanding.

[healmydesires]

welcome to my blog!

ml. twenties. they/them. autistic.

I am terribly obsessed with multiple fictional characters.

I am not an english native speaker, it’s my third language, so I am here to improve my writing! I love to make people laugh and I love to make new friends , so don’t be afraid to talk to me whenever you want to!

my main is heartfairy.

I am not requesting feedback pls don’t send me unsolicited advice <3 I know I’m here to improve it, but don’t be mean or don’t send me advice I didn’t ask for… it’ll only make me feel like shit.

I’ve decided to make a side blog for my upcoming fics or ideas and fic recs. as of right now I won’t be taking any detailed requests, but I am completely open for ideas or small requests, so you can always come and ramble and scream in my inbox! I’d love that. I do prefer requests from prompts I will reblog here and there! I will still keep up my old works on my main but I wanted to start something clean and fresh! <3

masterlist here

I often reblog fic recs to @4anakin , so if you see that blog in your notifs, just know it’s my side blog :)

I don’t want any minors to interact with me. whether I write explicit / mature content or not. please respect this.

as of right now I’m writing for logan howlett, anakin skywalker, joel miller, marcus pike, steve harrington, tasm!peter parker and robin buckley. It might change eventually but those are my special interests/comfort characters. I might be writing for more female characters eventually but I don’t think I will be writing for any other male characters right now! <3

⋆*｡ recently posted

you’re my medicine - anakin skywalker x reader (modern/lifeguards au)

needy - anakin skywalker x reader (kinktober)

It’s warming up - anakin skywalker x reader

caught your fever I’ll be feeling it forever - anakin skywalker (modern!au) (part one)

if you make me feel in love, then I’ll blossom for you - anakin skywalker (modern!au) (part two)

cross that line - logan howlett x reader

sweet like sugar - logan howlett x reader

⋆*｡ wips

enchanted - prince!steve harrington x reader royal!au (teaser here)

[furbywrites]

I'd Never Let You Go Pt. 2

Okay, so I had writers block for what felt like ages, but this chapter came to me so easily. It felt nice. Next chapter we get to meet Ellie! Yay! Once again, feedback/constructive criticism is welcome! :D

Ao3

I could hear him release a deep sigh, but he continued to walk with me. "You're real quiet, ya' know that?" he huffed, sounding almost annoyed. I frowned but said nothing. "Jus' wanna talk is all. Ya' don't gotta run from me."

My mouth opened, gaze still fixed steadily on my own boots, but no words would come. Anxiety constricted my throat, allowing only a pathetic squeak to pass my lips.

Why couldn't I be normal? I've seen plenty of people talk to Joel, smile at Joel, flirt with Joel. Sure he ignored most of them, giving a tight lipped smile and a polite, "Pardon me," before extracting himself from the conversation. At least they had tried, had been capable of even saying one word.

Some part of my brain felt broken at times, especially when it came to communication. Sometimes I'd go so long without speaking a single word, that when I finally managed, my voice sounded more like the croaking of a frog than that of a human.

Right now, with Joel by my side, keeping pace with my aimless steps, I tried. My mouth opened, gaping like a fish seeking water, but nothing but a frustrated grunt was to be heard. I couldn't do it. Something so simple for everyone around me, and I couldn't do it.

I could feel the tears finally overflow, as I sniffled loudly. A quick glance in Joel's direction showed his eyes widening in...what? Shock? I never was very good at reading people. It seemed an accurate guess though.

A hand, heavy and warm, placed itself upon my shoulder, and suddenly he was in front of me, standing, and we weren't walking anymore.

"I didn't mean to scare you, darlin'." His eyes, so big and brown and soft. I only realized I was looking into them when I felt myself getting lost in his gaze. Quickly, my eyes moved to his shoulder, where they usually ended up in the unforeseen circumstance of conversation.

I didn't necessarily have an issue with eye contact, quite the opposite. I overcompensated. Stared unfalteringly. People said it was unnerving, and so I stopped. Humiliated at yet again breaking some unknown social cue I did not inherently know.

I did not want to make Joel, the man of my fascinations, of my wandering mind, of my daydreams, unnerved. So, his shoulder seemed a good place to look.

With his eyes no longer a distraction, my mind instead focused on his hand upon my shoulder. It felt...nice. Surprisingly so. I had no one in Jackson I was close to. No one to touch. Perhaps it was getting to me, because just the warmth of his hand through my sweater had thoughts of burying my head into his chest running amok in my head.

I swallowed thickly, mind racing, and with a sharp inhale I brought myself back to the present moment. Sometimes I got lost in my head. A bad habit.

I didn't know how to convey without words that he hadn't scared me. Despite his reputation, and boy did he have one, he wasn't scary, at least not to me. Perhaps it was his interactions with Ellie I constantly observed from afar. But he seemed so soft in those moments, so kind.

I simply placed my hand upon his, giving a slight squeeze, and a tight lipped smile. Hoping he would understand. Again, I found myself getting lost, but not in my head, instead at the feeling of his rough skin on mine. A violent shiver went through me at the contact. Yes, clearly touch starved. The thought made me frown.

Before I could comprehend it, his hand was gone, being replaced by something heavy around my shoulders. His jacket? Had I been stuck in my head so long I'd missed something important?

Finally I looked into his eyes once more. My confusion must have been evident, because he simply huffed at my expression.

"You were shiverin', looked cold." He spoke so matter-of-factly, assuredly, despite being wrong. I wasn't cold, though it's not as though I could voice this to him, not that I would. It was a kind gesture, and his eyes looked so soft as he gazed at me, I found myself smiling, tears long forgotten.

He mirrored my smile, though much more subdued. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Cute. I blushed again at the thought.

"You never finished eating. Ya' must still be hungry?"

Eyes still locked on his, I nodded dumbly, currently distracted with the scent coming from his jacket. How did I only just notice? Did he smell this good? It couldn't just be the jacket. My face felt like it was on fire. Why couldn't I focus?

"Come on then, you can sit with me an' Ellie." His hand on my shoulder again, this time gently turning me around, leading me back to the canteen. "She wanted to meet ya' anyway."

[poetoflawed]

THE LAST OF US fic recs

platonic!Joel

[faerieroyal]

might start working on this joel miller x autistic bookstore owner reader story after my valentine’s shorts are done 🤭 along with the requests i already have, of course !!

[sageluvsjoel]

Lost and Found

part two to; a different kind of miracle

jackson!joel miller x reader x autistic! daughter

Requested HERE

masterlist

summary: A couple years after Joel had accepted and learned to adapt to his daughters autism, he loses his temper with her and she disappears

genre: hurt to comfort, post outbreak, fluff at the end

wc: 1.4k

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

i do not authorize plagiarism or copying of my work!

It had been an exhausting week, one of those stretches of days where everything seemed to go wrong. Winter was coming early to Jackson, the temperatures already biting through the air, and Joel was on edge. Supplies were running low, and the town was trying to organize runs to gather essentials before the weather turned too harsh. He’d been so focused on making sure everyone was prepared—on doing something—that he hadn’t noticed how much it was weighing on him.

And, of course, his little girl, now ten years old, had her own struggles. Lately, she’d been more withdrawn, more prone to sensory overloads. Jackson was a safe place, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t noisy, chaotic, and unpredictable—three things that sent her into a spiral. Joel knew this. He understood her in a way he hadn’t a few years ago, but that didn’t mean it was always easy.

She had a routine—one she relied on to get through the day. That routine kept her grounded, kept her focused. But life in Jackson didn’t always allow for perfect routines, and today had been a prime example of that. Joel had asked her to do something simple—help him clear a path outside their house so they could prepare for the coming snow. She’d been reluctant, focusing intently on the puzzle she was working on, her mind miles away from the task he wanted her to do.

At first, Joel had been patient. He always tried to be patient now. But with everything else gnawing at him, his frustration had bubbled over.

“I need you to listen, alright?” Joel had snapped, his voice harsher than intended. “I’ve asked you five times now, and you’re just sittin’ there like I’m talkin’ to a wall!”

She had flinched, her small body going rigid as her fingers hovered over the puzzle pieces. Joel immediately regretted his tone. But it was too late—the damage had been done. She closed herself off, retreating into her own world, her face expressionless, her eyes downcast. Before he could soften his words or try to reach her again, she was gone—out the door, moving fast.

“Hey!” Joel called after her, but she didn’t stop.

He’d thought she needed space, so he let her go, figuring she’d come back when she was ready, as she always did. The town wasn’t big, and she often found quiet places to be alone when she felt overwhelmed.

But hours passed, and she didn’t come back.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow-dusted streets of Jackson. By the time dinner came and went, you and Joel were growing increasingly worried.

"Have you seen her?" you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice as you looked out the window. The sky was bruised with dusk, and there was no sign of her.

Joel shook his head, trying to keep his own fear from showing. “She’ll turn up. She just needs some time. You know how she gets.”

But as the hours stretched on, and the cold deepened, doubt started to gnaw at him. He’d checked the usual spots—the quiet corners of town where she liked to hide when she needed to be alone—but there was no sign of her. And with each empty space he searched, the knot of fear in his chest tightened.

You grabbed his arm, your face pale. “Joel, what if she’s… what if something happened?”

It was the question he had been trying to avoid, but he couldn’t deny the possibility any longer. He had seen too much, lost too much, to take anything for granted in this world.

“I’m gonna get Tommy,” Joel said, his voice strained, the panic rising in his throat. “We’ll start searchin’ in pairs, see if anyone’s seen her.”

Tommy didn’t ask questions when Joel showed up at his door, his face drawn and tight with worry. Within minutes, half the town was mobilized, everyone searching every corner of Jackson, calling her name.

The minutes dragged on, turning into an hour, then two. The cold was biting now, the wind picking up as night settled fully in. Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, each passing minute heightening the terror that something had happened to her.

Had she wandered too far out of town? Had something—or someone—gotten to her?

The questions battered his mind, a relentless barrage of worst-case scenarios, each one more terrible than the last. He tried to keep it together, tried to stay focused on the search, but the weight of it—the thought of losing her—was suffocating. It was his fault. He’d yelled at her. He’d made her run.

You found him pacing near the stables, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts. “Joel,” you called softly, your voice trembling, “we’ll find her.”

But Joel barely heard you. His mind was already lost in a sea of guilt and fear. “What if… what if somethin’ happened to her? What if she’s out there, and it’s my fault because I couldn’t keep my temper in check? I should’ve never—”

Before he could spiral any further, a voice crackled over Tommy’s radio. “Hey, we think we found her.”

Joel froze, his heart leaping into his throat as he grabbed the radio. “Where?”

“She’s in the old storage shed behind the library. Looks like she’s just sittin’ there.”

Joel didn’t wait for a response. He was running before Tommy could finish speaking, his boots crunching through the snow as he sprinted toward the shed. You were right behind him, both of you breathless and frantic.

The door to the shed was slightly ajar, and inside, huddled in the corner, was your daughter. She was sitting cross-legged, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring down at the ground, completely still.

She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t panicking. She was just… sitting there, lost in her own world, oblivious to the chaos she had left behind.

Joel fell to his knees beside her, his heart hammering in his chest as he reached out to touch her shoulder. “Baby girl,” he rasped, his voice thick with relief. “Where have you been? We’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.”

She blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream, and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you were looking for me,” she said quietly. “I just… needed to be alone.”

Joel’s heart ached at the simplicity of her words, at the quiet truth of them. She hadn’t run away because she was scared or in danger. She had run because she was overwhelmed, because the world had gotten too loud, and she needed space to breathe.

And he had panicked because he hadn’t understood that, because he had let his fear take over.

You knelt down beside her, brushing a hand through her hair. “You scared us, sweetheart,” you said gently, your voice shaking. “We were worried something had happened to you.”

Her brow furrowed, her expression soft with confusion. “I was just sitting here. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

Joel closed his eyes, the weight of his relief crashing over him like a wave. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re alright. That’s all that matters.”

You pulled her close, and Joel wrapped his arms around both of you, holding on like he was afraid to let go. For a long time, none of you spoke. The only sound was the soft rustling of the wind outside, the quiet hum of the world moving on.

When you finally stood up, Joel kept a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, his grip gentle but firm. “Next time, you tell me if you need space, alright? I’ll give it to you. Just… don’t disappear on us like that again.”

She nodded, her face still calm, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes.

As you led her out of the shed and back toward home, Joel couldn’t shake the lingering fear in his chest. The world was still dangerous, still unpredictable. But as long as they were together—as long as he understood her, truly understood her—he knew they’d be okay.

She was his miracle, and he would never lose her again.

dividers by @kodaswrld

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