#joel would do it all again despite that pain he had to live through again

[jackietaylorsghost]

do u ever think about how joel and ellie are like parent/daughter YES but also they are best friends???

[chaotic-iguana]

Twisted Love

summary: as we know, im a bit of a gremlin. i take ur asks and fucking add my own spin. here we are. its like a “joel edges reader, reader accidentally comes” with SUPER dark twists. let me know what you think. feel free to (gently) yell at me because honestly @breakfastatjoels is the only reason i decided to post (love you dee)

pairing: dark! joel x reader

wordcount: 2.3k

warnings: survivalism, dubcon, dark!joel, edging, dom/sub dynamics, pussy slapping, very out of my comfort zone writing this, stockholm syndrome, this joel is everything husband joel is not. hes a dick please dont acc be in these kinds of relationships, swearing (no bc me being a smartass and adding swearing as if its worse than STOCKHOLM SYNDROME), choking, slapping, passing out and keep going, somno? i think?, dacryphilia, he’s a genuine fucking asshole

A/N: please be warned that this is not a vanilla smut fic, it follows some super dark themes. unlike my other fics, no “soft” joel, or aftercare; no checking in or wiping tears. also forewarning, i do not support relationships that are in fact like this. i am not glorifying sa or abuse. dont want any anons in my inbox tearing me a new one. 

masterlist // navigation

Four hours. You’d been tied to the bed spreadeagle for four hours. Your wrists and ankles had chafed, you’d nearly lost your voice, and you couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

Joel had one hand on your stomach, pressing down, and another between your legs, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm only to pull away at the last second to watch you buck your hips into thin air, chasing friction, as your high ebbed away again. And then he would start again. And again. And again.

By now, you were gone. Your mind had long been wiped clean of coherent thought. Broken moans and whines escaped you as you tried to beg despite having seemingly forgotten the ability to articulate yourself - you could barely manage short gasps of breath in between sobs; words were proving to be near-impossible. 

A dizzying chant of Joel, Joel, Joel, took up your mind as he wrenched his fingers out of you once again, just a second too late to accomplish what he wanted. No; in your desperate, hyper-sensitive state, that split second alone was enough to send you into a  spiral: toes-curling, back-arching and your breath coming in sharp gasps as an orgasm that had your vision whiting out for a few seconds washes over you.

Joel glared down at you, the vision barely registering to you past the buzz of euphoria, eyes rolling back as reality faded away. He gripped your jaw then, snapping you out of the daze by bringing a hand down on your cunt, repeatedly striking the sensitive folds, the painful sting heightened by your orgasm. 

 At the pitiful groans of protest and the way your legs contorted against the bindings to fall into themselves; instinct taking over to protect you from his merciless assault, he rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Y’gonna be a brat? Be a fuckin’ brat. ‘M not wastin’ my time on a girl that can’t behave.” 

Snapping his switchblade open, he leaned down to rip through your restraints before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

That had been a week ago. You had spent an hour curled in on yourself, numb in disbelief that he’d just left. You hadn’t meant to go against his wishes, your body had just taken over and practically pushed you over the edge. You knew the deal-  of course you did, it was seared into your fucking mind- it’s what kept you alive. 

It was an offer he had spat at you with a blade pressed to your neck, a decree that signed your body over to him. He’d let you live and keep you alive, and in return all you had to do was obey him; be his “good little girl”, as he put it. All you had to do in exchange for your safety was listen to him, do what he told you to. 

A paralyzing fear had gripped you since that day you had accidentally defied him, death looming over your head like a guillotine you couldn’t quite see just yet but knew was inevitably coming. 

You’d hated the arrangement at first, resisting it; resisting him. But once he had made it abundantly clear that there was no way for you to leave, nowhere you could go, you found yourself fighting back less. Life had already been so long, taken so much from you already. You’d never have to worry again. He’d keep you safe. Despite his inherent brutality, he took care of you; more care than anyone else had taken since the world went to shit. He made sure you ate enough, slept in better spots, showers. When you had nightmares, he’d set a bruising pace against you and rut until your head emptied of every thought but his. 

Your disdain for him faded over time, and you began craving him. You wanted him under your skin, you wanted to feel him and nothing else, to be reduced to a mindless mess as damp sheets clung to your skin. Wanted his bites and bruises, wanted his grip on your thighs, your waist, your neck. Slowly, you wanted him. A twisted love characterised by dizzying need for him to rip you apart and put you back together infected your mind. To be with you, hold you, praise you. And you were perfect for him as a result, wanting nothing but to keep him happy. 

He, however, hadn’t so much as looked at you all week. If he said anything, it was bit out in your general direction as an afterthought; an inconvenience. It was like he’d stopped caring where you were, how you were. Pent up and needing him, needing to feel the scrapes of his callouses against your skin, his teeth nipping your flesh, you simply endured it all fearfully. Your arrangement had gone on long enough that you genuinely did not know if he would follow through - but you’d seen enough of what he was capable of not to risk it. You may have your own infatuation with the man, but you weren’t stupid. When he stood jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and with that crazed glint in his eye, you did not speak to him; your self-preserving habit of pointing out his tells blaring at you to run. If you so much as stepped too close to him on days like these, you’d see how blown out his pupils were, how his face was set in an expression that made it difficult to identify him, before he’d pin you to the nearest wall and use his mouth, fingers, cock, blade handle, beer bottle and makeshift toys on you until you passed out, and then he’d keep going until exhaustion overtook him. Which, for a man that size, often took over a day. 

So you settled for trying your best to impress him. Wore that dress he liked, did your hair in a ponytail because you knew it made his fingers itch to tug at it, painted your lips with a shadow of red and just followed him like a lost puppy, without stopping or complaining once. Didn’t matter how many gashes you got on your hands and knees from getting your foot caught on sharp edges or rocks he didn’t warn you of anymore, didn’t matter how hungry or thirsty you were with him neglecting to pass the canteen back to you, didn’t matter how badly his biting comments hurt you or how many tears filled your eyes, you followed him without complaint.  

But it had been a week, and your resolve had started to break. If he was going to kill you, he had to do it now. The buildup, the constant fear, the desperation to impress him, the cuts and bruises now littering your body, the hungry ache in your stomach - they all reached a point where your knees just buckled, and you just couldn’t. Joel was ahead of you, still trudging on without so much as glancing in your direction, not even after the pathetic wail that sounded from you as you fell to your knees. Gasping out his name, wincing at the rasp of your voice from the disuse, you watched his steps falter as he looked at you over his shoulder, and kept walking. 

“No, no, no, please Joel, please.” Tears began streaming down your face, your body shaking with the force of the devastation sweeping through you as you began crawling after him. This made him stop and turn, brow raised and mouth set in a cruel smile as he took in your form. He took slow, deliberate strides to where you lay on the ground, elbows given out, and looked down at you. 

“Please, what?” His dark eyes were glittering as he smirked at you, watching you crumble before his very eyes. 

“No more. ‘M sorry, I’m so sorry I won’t ever go against what you say again. Didn’t mean to come - it just happened n’ I couldn’t stop it. I’ve been so good for years, Joel. I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry.” Cheeks burning hot with humiliation, you could barely meet his gaze as you began begging the man you’d sworn to kill when you first met him. Begged him to take care of you, to forgive you. 

He crouched low, reaching a hand out to tip your chin up and meet your eyes. 

“Need me?” A jeering, boisterous laugh. “Do ya, now?” At your nod, he snorted. “You forget who’s in control -once, just once - I fuckin’ leave you then and there. Clear?” Another nod. “Take what I give you this time.” Not a question, but you find yourself nodding feverishly anyways, making his lips twitch as he grasped you and lifted you into his arms the rest of the way. 

Joel spotted a cabin while trudging through the rough terrain, your hands around his neck and torso flush against his chest as you hung limp in his arms, half-asleep. Deciding to settle there for the night, he barely took a minute to scout the place out before he was making his way to the bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed before turning to strip his flannel and trousers off. Watching you blink in confusion as you started to wake up, he scoffed, tangling a hand in your hair, flipping you onto yoru back, and yanking your head to the edge of the bed. 

Giving you no time to brace yourself, Joel shoved the blunt head of his cock between your lips, working your jaw open as he starting using your mouth. One of hands came to rest on your exposed neck, putting enough pressure to feel himself moving in and out of your throat, while the other gripped the edge of the bed next to your head, intermittently coming up to slap your tits, your stomach, your thighs - anywhere he could reach. The sounds of your garbled choking and gasping filled the room, Joel using your mouth like a fleshlight. 

Refusing you a single second of reprieve to get your breath, he kept rocking his hips until you were lightheaded and there were spots in your vision, consciousness fading. When he glanced down and realised you were about to pass out, he pulled himself flush against your mouth and stayed there, drool and spit spluttering from your nose as you struggled to accommodate him, struggling against him until you blacked out. 

When you came to, you were lying on your stomach, hair still in Joel’s grip and head held back. Your hands were tied to the headboard in front of you with the underwear you had been wearing all day, and his fingers were bruising your waist in his grip as he pounded into you from behind. 

You could feel that you had lost some time. Come and blood streaked all over your jaw, neck and chest, and you could feel some drying on your back, thighs and stomach as well. Moreover, you were drenched. Covered from head to toe in a mixture of blood, sweat, saliva and cum. You could see skin on your chest and stomach swollen and red, broken by his teeth, which had left permanent indents into the flesh. Blinking steadily, you realised that the sun was up, the room bathed in the first few rays of dawn. 

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His rasp from behind you had a shudder dancing down your spine, straightening up slightly. You could barely sob your response - the new angle had your eyes rolling back, and you could feel yourself being jolted up the bed by the sheer force of his thrusts into you. 

Feeling the muscles of your stomach tense, you hardly had the rationality to start babbling a half-understandable “Gonna cum, ‘m g-mmh-cum,” before feeling him shift his hand on your hip to move it between your legs, swiping over your clit with just enough pressure to bring you to your peak - before he leaned down to snarl into your ear. 

“Don’t come.” At your whimper, he laughed. “Y’wanna live? Be good f’me? Don’t you dare fucking come.” You felt your muscles lock up, a pitiful whine leaving your mouth as you staved off your orgasm, tensing so hard against it that your whole body hurt. Your legs were shaking with the force of holding off, and you felt Joel smile into your shoulder in approval before he moved his arm under your thigh, lifting it as the strength of his hips snapping into yours increased, making you scream when his fingers returned to your folds. 

He reveled in the wails that were piercing the silence of the room, at the force with which you began convulsing in the effort to obey him. Sucking a bruise into the skin behind your ear, he let you suffer for a few more plunges of his tip into your cervix until he felt his own climax fast approaching, uttering a permissive “Come,” until you were gripping him so hard his vision whited out for a few moments. Watching your hand come around to the back of his head, body trembling as you moaned low and near-pained next to him, he stayed inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and stepping into his jeans immediately, watching you collapse onto the bed from overexertion. 

He just reached across the bed to twist a particularly large bruise between his index finger and thumb, savoring your squeak of fear and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Best get cleaned up quick. We gotta lot’a ground to cover today.” And with that, he was walking out again. At least this time, you knew he’d keep you around. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore , @evyiione , @breakfastatjoels  , @millerscoffee dividers by @cafekitsune!! cover by the AMAZING @pedrosaidsheispunk. what a LEGEND. 

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

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

Read on Ao3

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

Fandom: The Last of Us

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

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

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

Words: 7,139

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

My masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

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

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

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

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 31

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

The passing of time began to heal the wounds that had been bestowed on you and Joel. Despite some initial reluctance, you agreed to talk to a therapist about being kidnapped by Vic and all that took place before and after. Joel had talked you into it, and agreed to go, himself.

By the summer, you felt almost back to normal; and those wounds turned into scars. Never forgotten, but no longer the focal point of your pain.

You passed the last of your practicals and exams. The final course you finished that summer and by the fall you had your nursing degree as planned.

It was October 1st when you handed your three closest girlfriends your last lump sum of money for the monthly rent on the house you had been renting together. It was bittersweet. The four of you had had so much fun through your mid twenties in that house, and waking up to share laughs and have coffee were the little moments you would miss so dearly.

"You're only moving six minutes down the road," Jessie reminded you, when the two of you cried together, complete with seemingly contradictory smiles.

"I know." You dried your eyes. "But.. I just.. I'm so happy but this is-"

"The end of Act One in your story and the beginning of Act Two." Jessie pulled you in for a long hug. "And this is where the friendships grow stronger, and the real depth comes in."

You sighed. Her words made you cry a little more before you finally got it together and bid a temporary farewell to your friend. The four of you already had a plan to go out the following Friday night and that was solace enough for the time being.

The very bright light at the end of the tunnel was Joel. Once you parted from Jessie, you sped over to Joel's street with your car full of all of your belongings. Your heart was letting you know how full it was from the constant thudding in your chest. It picked up the closer you got and felt like exploding when you pulled down the private driveway.

As promised, Joel sat on his front porch waiting for your arrival. One year later and he still made you swoon. The site of him still made butterflies flutter around in your midsection.

When you parked the car and popped open the driver's side door, you smiled wide as he approached with a key dangling between his fingers. You almost couldn't believe this was really happening.

"Welcome home." Joel smiled just as wide. The two of you couldn't take your eyes off one another and you pulled him in by the collar of his flannel shirt to leave a long, meaningful kiss on his lips.

"I love you," you breathed into his mouth.

"I love you, too." He brushed his nose against yours and you kissed again before accepting the key from him.

"I can't believe I live here now."

Joel kept you close. "Maybe one day I'll get you that cabin in the woods, but I thought this would do for now."

You shook your head and nodded toward the house behind him. "This is home."

He pecked your lips once more. "Come on." He pulled you by the hand and the two of you began to unload the car.

You were on cloud nine. Each box you brought inside made the move feel more permanent. When you unpacked the box that had your Bluetooth speaker in it, you plopped it on the little end table by one of the couches and put on one of your many playlists.

"Bob Dylan," Joel nodded in approval as the first song began to play. "Nice."

You smiled at him as he hauled another box in over shoulder. The two of you went through it together, finding a permanent home for your things. While you didn't want to impose on Joel's space, he was overly accommodating.

"It's our space now," Joel reminded you three or four times.

You stuck your toothbrush in the slot next to his. Joel cleared out more than half of the closet space for clothes. You laid out your boots, shoes and sandals.

When all of the bins and boxes were finally empty, you made your way back downstairs, welcomed by the infamous pipes of Sheryl Crow's Strong Enough, you finally reached for your car keys, and the single, gold key you had placed beside it; the one Joel had given to you.

As you picked it up between your fingers, Joel crept in behind you and kissed down your neck. You moaned lightly with a smile and closed your eyes.

"Mmm.." you let out a deep exhale through your nose. "So, this is my life now, huh?" You sunk back against him.

"As long as you want it to be," Joel whispered, as his hand snaked up the bottom of your shirt.

You turned around and Joel met you halfway in a smoldering kiss, one that you had been wanting to give him all afternoon. For the rest of the night you didn't take your hands off of him. Moving in together had turned you into a feral, needy woman.

When the two of you finally laid in bed, breathing heavy but otherwise quiet, you stated aloud. "I live here."

Joel began to chuckle, guiding you to lay partially on his chest. "You live here."

You sighed contently again, listening to his heart beating rapidly in his chest with your arm slunk across his abdomen. "Imagine if I had never offered you that free coffee that night."

"What's meant to be will always be." Joel played with your hair. "But I'm glad you did." He added, "You're a brave woman. I owe you my life. You gave it back to me."

"All I want from you is to share it with me."

Joel kissed the top of your head and the two of you laid contently for a long while, talking about life, the future, and what was to come. You both intentionally left out the past. It was the easiest way to fall asleep peacefully.

When the next morning rolled around, you felt refreshed. It was like leaving a great dream only to awaken to a better one - one with Joel beside you. Permanently. Every day. For as long as you both could stand to be around one another. In your mind, that meant forever.

You smiled at him sleeping there and swung your legs off the edge of the bed before tiptoeing out of the room so you wouldn't wake him. As much as you wanted to lay there all morning with Joel, you also wanted to surprise him.

Despite it being your first formal night as a resident at the Miller house, you knew your way around the kitchen. And so you went about whipping up pancakes, setting the coffee pot and gathering the syrup, butter and chocolate chips you happened to find in one of the cabinets.

You hesitated before retrieving a long rectangular box wrapped in candy corn wrapping paper from your jacket pocket by the front door and left it by Joel's unmade plate.

Before you could go see if he was awake, your eyes lifted to meet his as he strolled into the kitchen. Joel pulled a long-sleeved tshirt down over boxers and you couldn't help but smile at his head of messy hair.

A smile crept on his face. "It smells amazing down here."

"Thought I'd surprise you on our first official morning living together." You smiled back and retrieved a glass dish filled with pancakes and placed them in the center of the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The two of you sat down at the table and Joel raised his coffee mug to you. "To many more cups of coffee together first thing in the morning."

You giggled and reached for your cup, tapping it gently against his. "To many, many, many more."

Joel took a sip, smacking his lips together with an appreciative sigh and then eyed the little box by his silverware. He smirked and reached for it. "What's this?"

You felt your stomach knot up and folded your hands on top of the table. "You'll uh.. you'll have to open it."

Joel's eyes squinted in playful suspicion but he still smirked as he tore open the corner of the tiny package. "I didn't even know they made candy corn wrapping paper," he commented, glancing up at you with a wider grin.

You flashed him a closed-mouth smile and waited as he removed the small, white box from the paper. His eyes met yours a final time before he opened the box and stared down at the contents inside.

A quiet exhale escaped your lips as you waited for Joel's reaction. Those next few seconds felt like hours.

"This is, um.. is this what I think it is?" He looked right at you now motioning down toward the box. A wide smile spread on his face, "I mean it's not a positive Covid test, right?"

You managed a light laugh but ultimately the gravity of the situation held you firmly in place. "No, it's not a Covid test."

Joel chuckled to himself and brought a hand across his mouth for a second, before running it across his beard. His eyebrows raised and he reached for the rectangular stick in the box.

"Tell me." He stared intensely across the table at you.

Your bottom lip dropped away from your top one and you hesitated. You weren't sure why but it was such a powerful, permanent set of words to string together. When Joel couldn't contain a smile, it gave you enough confidence to spit the words out with a little, timid shrug of your shoulders.

"I'm pregnant."

"Really?" He asked as if he didn't believe it, rising to his feet. Joel made his way toward you.

You nodded and rose to your feet, feeling completely content and at ease in his arms as he hugged you. The warmth that often radiated from him transferred into you and you closed your eyes as his hand moved up and down your back.

It felt as if Joel didn't want to let you go, and you didn't mind. You smiled to yourself when he kissed your forehead before edging his back an inch or two so you were face-to-face.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded and smiled back at him. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah." He chuckled, making you laugh and you shared a long, closed-mouth kiss. "I'm going to be a dad." The words came out almost like a question. You were sure the shock of the moment hadn't fully registered yet.

"You're going to be a great dad."

A lopsided smile still lingered on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped and shook his head. When he couldn't find the words, you pulled him back in for a hug and he melted against you.

After a minute or so, Joel finally said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He picked you up off the ground and spun you in a circle, making you giggle again. When your feet were back on the ground, Joel put a hand on his head and you saw a dampness in his eyes.

"Don't," you said with a laugh, "I made it this long without crying."

"Sorry," he said with a laugh as a tear streaked his face. "Fuck. I'm the man, I shouldn't be crying."

"That's an outdated take," you told him with a laugh, as he dried his face with his hands.

"I know." He chuckled and then dropped down to his knees in front of you, lifting the shirt to expose your stomach. Despite there being no obvious indications of your pregnancy, Joel placed a hand over your abdomen and then left a single kiss just below your belly button.

You cradled his head against you as he placed the side of his face against the area and hugged around your waist.

"We're going to have our own little family," Joel acknowledged allowed.

"Yeah." You ran your fingers through his hair.

"What do you think, five kids?" He joked, making you laugh as he rose back to his feet.

"Maybe seven or eight," you teased back, accepting a series of kisses from him.

"I love you," Joel said again, tucking hair behind you ear. "Really. I loved you right away. Last year, a week into this, I knew this was something that comes once in a lifetime."

You had tears in your eyes now. "I knew it too. And now you finally get your happily ever after."

"So do you."

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee @shayna-d-clown @bbiophiliaa @theclassicvinyldragon @tiffanypooh @mandijo17 @poodlebae @purple-fig @vabeachazn

[netherfeildren]

FEAR OF GOD: Chapter VIII: The Fisher King

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Teach me how to ask for forgiveness, even when I know I don’t deserve it. 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: angst; PTSD; very brief mention of infertility in the first section, description of injury

A/N: Art is Breach by Keith Perelli (2006-2007)

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII: The Fisher King

But still. Still.

Bless me anyway.

I want more life. I can’t help myself. I do.

I’ve lived through such terrible times, and

There are people who live through much worse, but… You see them living

anyway. When they’re more spirit than body, more sores, than skin, when they’re

burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in

the corners of the eyes of their children,

they live. Death usually has to take life 

away. I don’t know if that’s just the animal. 

I don’t know if it’s not braver to die. But I 

recognize the habit. The addiction to being 

alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope

anywhere, that’s it, that’s the best I can do.

It’s so much not enough, so inadequate but

…Bless me anyway. I want more life.

-Tony Kushner, Angels in America

“Do you think you’ve been happy, so far?” you ask her one night. 

“I think so, yes. Have you?” Her answer is immediate. She’d never been one for much indecision – that was always your role.

“Yes. At times. I’ve also been very sad.”

“Me too.” You can hear it now, that sadness, in the quietness of her voice.

“I hope we can be happy in the future. That we’ll be together, always.” The two of you are laying under the stars, hidden in the forest, in your old sleeping bags. She says the trees guard you, keep you safe. If you’d had more experience, you’d have felt very close to death in that moment. 

“We will be. Don’t worry about that.”

“I don’t want either of us to die,” and you can hear how young you sound, how naive. Despite all you’ve been through, you’ve not been able to let go of that part of yourself. When you’re older you will think that, perhaps, that was not such a bad thing. 

“We won’t. That won’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. I have a plan. If we stick to it, we’ll be okay.”

“Alright.” Your trust in her is implicit, after all. 

She is very quiet for a while after that, you think she’s fallen asleep, but then suddenly: “You know, I can’t have children.” 

“How do you know?”

“Things were off – Dad was able to run some tests.” That sadness is there again, echoing in her voice, and it is a very painful thing to hear from someone you love so much – someone you know would want that for themselves. 

“I’m sorry.” For there is nothing else to be said in light of such a tragedy for her. She would make a wonderful mother.

“It makes me really sad.” There’s quiet again, for a long time, but then: “I know it’s a terrible world. Not safe – but still… It makes me very sad.” 

“I’ll have one for the both of us. We can share.”

One of the last times you ever hear her laugh – you should have cherished the sound more – branded it in your memory. “I’d like that.”

Beth is dead two days later. 

-

He sits by your sick bed for days. Shrouded in darkness, he lets his fear, his nightmares swallow him whole – the great gaping maw of a monstrous dream come to fruition. He thinks of Sarah’s mother, his ex-wife, for some reason – can’t understand why she comes to his mind in this moment, honestly. He hasn’t thought about her in decades, that woman he’d known so long ago – can hardly remember her face now. It makes him indescribably sad.

He’s trying to prevent his mind from dissociating. To keep himself present, in case you wake, in case you need him. But the sight of you, small and pale and broken. So still. It fractures his mind in a way he cannot understand. The days of you being lost – of his mad flight to find you, out with teams of hunters, combing the forest for any sign of you, the way he’d screamed at Maria and Tommy and Ellie and anyone else who got too close, spoke too loudly. He’d been extremely close to violence, of the unimaginable sort. That terrible last night, his own destruction, flashing over and over and over in his mind, the things he’d said to you. He could not compare the terror to anything else he’d ever experienced before. The pure horror of that being the last memory you’d ever have of him, of coming across your dead, mangled body, of never seeing your bright, unguarded smile again – in decades filled with fear, day in and day out, he now felt he’d been infected with the most unimaginable of diseases. A stabbing, bone melting pain to his mind, his heart, his flesh, again and again, all of his own making. 

This is his fault. He did this to you. Pushed you away. Made you feel like you needed to flee, escape him. He wants to be angry with you for being so stupid, for going out there without him. But how could he not understand it – for what choice did he give you? That you’d prefer to face the monsters out there, rather than the one inside, the one in front of you – rather than him. He thinks he too would rather face the horrors out there, a thousand infected, than face himself. Face his own guilt, his own shortcomings. 

He still isn’t speaking to Maria – can barely look at her. He’d told her if you were dead it’d fall on her head. That he’d blame her for it forever. It was a viciously unfair, nasty thing to throw at her when he’d been the one to push you away, the one to tell you to leave, when this was really all his fault alone. 

He thinks of Tess – how he’d not been able to keep her safe either, all that time ago. A regret so profound, he’s sure he’ll swim in it for the rest of his miserable life. 

Ellie had said sending you away that night had perhaps been the worst thing he’d ever done. The sight of you in this bed proves that fact, and he is filled with a rage so black, so all consuming, it cripples him, will send him to his grave if you don’t come out of this. 

He hasn’t slept in days. Merely closing his eyes to rest his racing mind a few moments at a time. The baby you’d had with you has been with Maria. Tiny, squealing, rageful thing that she is. She only quiets when Maria brings her into your room, lays her beside your sleeping form. As if she knows already, even now, that the best place in the entire world is at your side. He closes his eyes in the quiet interminable moments of waiting and tries to picture Sarah’s mother in his mind. To remember her face. He cannot. There’s only a flash of dark curls. The sound of her voice, gone to time. All he can conjure with clarity is the image of Sarah’s smiling face that last morning he’d spent with her. His most precious memory. Something he exercises in his mind every morning when he wakes, lest, he too, forget that. He wonders if she’s still alive, what happened to her after the outbreak. He hopes she survived – hopes she lived a life not too full of terrible, painful things. Although, he isn’t entirely sure there exists any other version of this life anymore. He hopes he can find it, if it does, and give it to you, if you’ll let him.

He looks back at your resting form. The welts and scrapes that had marred the side of your face are healing well. The swelling receding into angry bruising. Nancy was worried you’d sustained a head injury, as an explanation for your prolonged unconsciousness, but neither the bones in your face, nor your skull were broken. Perhaps only a mild concussion, she thought. It inclined her to believe this was simply a side effect of the blood loss you’d endured from the wound in your side, the exhaustion and trauma.

Joel thinks he might become a religious man after this. Thinks he might start going to church, prostrating himself at the effigy of the cross to thank whatever higher power there exists for bringing you back to him, keeping you alive, allowing him another chance to see that smile, even if it’s never directed at him again. Because that is something else he is terribly afraid of. That his last words to you that night, will be the only thing you’ll ever be able to remember of him. All you’ll ever be able to see of him, going forward. He is so, so afraid of the consequences of his own terrible actions. Terrified that the moment he cast you away will be the only moment the two of you live in together for the rest of your lives.

And he thinks: Joel Miller, you are a man made up of fears. 

-

The first thing you see when you finally open your eyes again are his hands. They’re scarred. Tiny, faded marks of a life past, marring the lines of a map of all his pain, his history. Your body hurts, one large throbbing bruise. But the fire in your shoulder, the muscles of your back and arm, has abated. You say a silent prayer of thanks that you’d been able to keep from straining it more. Any more damage and you’d have probably lost function of the limb entirely.

His eyes are closed, his temple pressed against his fist on the arm of the chair pulled up to your bedside. The house is entirely silent – dark and peaceful. You stretch your legs under the blankets, no terrible amount of pain, and his eyes spring open immediately at the subtle sound of your shifting. So attuned to you, that the mere rustling of the sheets brings him to wakefulness. You watch the dilation of his pupils, everything else frozen in place. Head still resting against his fist, he stares at you wide eyed and unblinking. You take in his face – his eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in the harsh purple bruising of exhaustion. His too long, messy curls lie limply across his forehead. He looks haggard, wrung dry. The most defeated you’ve ever witnessed him. Neither of you say anything as you study the other. He still hasn’t moved and the look in his eyes – afraid, resigned, like you’re a predator about to come in for the kill strike. 

You feel indescribably sad for him, seeing him like this. Brought down low. It’s wrong. Not an image of the Joel you know that should exist in the world. You’re sure you mustn’t look much better. Broken, the both of you, in this shared moment. You slowly start to slide your palm across the bed towards him, and like a flip bringing him back to life, he melts onto the ground from the chair. Coming to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed, he grasps your outstretched hand and presses his forehead into your palm, his grasp so, so gentle. His other hand snakes up, under the blankets to grip your bare knee in his warm palm, his thumb slowly sweeps over the bend.

His shoulders begin to jerk, in tiny little gasps. He’s crying.

“I was so afraid.” It is choked and guttural, a confession of the highest order, an admission of weakness, a supplication for mercy, for forgiveness. 

You know that his words are all encompassing. He was afraid that night, when the two of you were attacked, when he told you he loved you, when he sent you away, when he couldn’t find you. He’s been afraid for decades, since the moment he met you, since the moment his daughter died. Your heart cleaves in two at the sight of his defeat. The hot slide of his tears through the spaces between your fingers, pooling in the cup of your palm, the liquid feel of them burns you, incites a violence in your heart to rise up at the sight of his suffering, of his pain. But you say nothing. Too weighed down by your own terror, your own pain. 

By the prospect of having to tell him the truth. The secret you’ve been carrying with you, that you’re pregnant. Terrified of his reaction. Of his possible rejection. For it isn’t just you anymore that would feel the loss of him. There’s two, three, of you now. And you’re terrified of having to ask him to bear this with you. Don’t want to have to ask. And part of you knows, is positive, that he’ll be there for you without you ever having to even ask. That there would be no question of it. No other alternative. That if anything else, the man before you is honorable and good – despite his violence, despite his sins, despite his fear, he is good. He would never abandon you to face this alone. But still, you’re afraid. Just as he is, just as he has been. So you say nothing, simply bring your other hand up to cup the back of his bent head. 

There are no words that could fit in the quiet space of your room in that moment – so swollen is it with all your shared fears, all the things left unsaid. You let him cry. 

-

Ellie finds him sitting on his front porch, guitar in hand, strumming gently – a mug sits by his side. There is no fight to be had now, this she knows. Perhaps no reconciliation, either – not at this moment. But there is much to be said, still, or even perhaps, merely silence to be shared. This is her olive branch. In the days since your disappearance, and then since you’d been found, recovering, she’s had a lot of time to think. To consider her choices. 

“Hey.” The look on his face as he watches her walk up guts her – so full of reluctantly glad surprise. 

“What’re you drinking?”

“Coffee.”

Of course. “Where’d you get that?”

“Uh… those people that came through last week. A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but … it’s not bad.”

“Oh,” she’s slightly at a loss for what to say, how to continue. Their once easy banter seems so unreachable with so much laying between them. “You need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.”

“Okay,” he says succinctly – like he’s not going to take her incendiary bait. He looks away, considering what he’s about to say next. “Dina. Is she your girlfriend?”

And nope, she sure as fuck hadn’t been expecting that one. “No! She – That was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything,” she denies, referring to the kiss he’d accidentally witnessed last night when he was on his way home from trying to see you. “She just… I don’t know why she did that.”

He tilts his head contemplatively, gives her a knowing look. “You do like her.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but I do know that she would be lucky to have you.”

And she knows she told herself she didn’t come here to fight, but he’s so damn aggravating and nosy, she can’t help it. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I’m not trying to –”

“Just – just leave it.” She snaps, looking out at the dark road. “Have you been in to see her today?” Veering towards less conflictive ground. 

“Nancy didn’t let me in, said they were both restin’.” He drags his hand tiredly over his face, “Haven’t had much of a chance to talk at all.”

“But before… how’s she been?”

“On the mend – tired, I think. Nance said she’s recovering well. But quiet. She– she doesn’t much want to see me, to be honest …” Maria had said you’d been withdrawn. Not really wanting to see anyone besides Nancy and the baby.

“That was – When we couldn’t find her… Scared the fuck out of me.”

He looks down into his mug of coffee, his jaw shifting side to side, “Yeah… yeah. I– it was–” She knows he can’t discuss it, can’t even voice the terror that gripped him at the thought of losing you. Something about the confirmation of knowing how much he loves you, settles something within Ellie. Reinforces the resolve in her heart. 

“Not just for her though. I was scared for you too.” The look he gives her then – she sees that flicker of desolation she was so scared he’d be lost to forever if you’d not come back – if you’d died. There isn’t much left in Ellie that’s overly sentimental, but she could cry at the relief of knowing you’re okay, the both of you. 

“Kate’s cute as fuck,” she smiles. 

“She is… got those big blue eyes.”

“What are you gonna do? With them?”

“Not much I can do, I guess. ‘Cept take care of ‘em. Keep ‘em alive. If she’ll have me…”

“Love them,” she adds, and he hums in agreement, tilting his head a bit. No point in hiding it, he’s gone soft, everyone knows now, might as well embrace it. Put up a sign. “Well,” she continues, “We both know you’re good at doing that, at least,” her eyes are full of laughter, full of memories. “Taking care of misbehaving girls that can’t ever do what they’re told.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo. You listened sometimes.”

“Yeah…” she chuckles, “You’re right, there was the rare occasion.” Her grin is roguish.. 

“Guess I’ve got enough practice ‘bout now, don’t I?

She goes suddenly serious, “Do you ever feel ashamed? When you remember what you did?” The question is abrupt, as if she wasn’t expecting herself to ask, but couldn't help it. She could be referring to so many things, so many sins. 

He thinks about the day after Sarah died, when he’d been so ready to follow her to whatever end. His mind shies away from the memory – that is shame –  a wound healed over, but still tender if pressed on too harshly. But he considers it now, in light of her question, how the overwhelming feelings driving that choice had been acceptance in that instant. A readiness to be done with all that continuing in a world without his daughter promised. Fate had granted him the opportunity to flinch, a chance he’d then passed on as a gift to Ellie. No matter how she saw it, he’d given her a chance to flinch. Something perhaps, one couldn’t recognize had they never consciously held that cold gun in their hand, pressed it to the tender nook of their temple and looked their own mortality in the face. But he’d given it to her, and not even an entire life of reliving all he’d endured as of yet, could ever, ever make him regret that choice. A parent did what they could to give their child the gift of choice. That was, in the end, the only thing one could do. The gift of choice, something he now had and so arrogantly squandered. Birdie was his choice. Fate had given him a gift once again, now he had to consciously decide to flinch or not. 

“No. Never.” There is no doubt – no room for doubt. “I told you once, if I ever had the chance to do it again, I’d do it exactly the same.” There was a space where one could exist with their sins and not resent them. Joel knew it well now. There was only one road that had led him to this moment, to this place. He could not regret the decisions that’d brought Ellie to this life of peace and safety. That had brought him to your door. You had never felt like a sin. The sight of you, it made him calm, so free. There had been fear, too much of it, but never regret, never shame alongside your name.

“Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?” he asks her, and he can see the question takes her aback, a second of shock crossing her face. It’s all the answer he needs – for the thought to never have even entered her mind. She shakes her head, sharp and quick, “No.” She pauses, and then says, “Fuck your fear, Joel. If that’s what’s keeping you from her you have to let it go. It’ll be the thing to kill you in the end. Maybe not dead in the ground, but in a worse way.”

“I know…I know, Ellie.”

And so what if he had been afraid? In a world, a life, overrun with the worst possible outcome playing out in real time, what was one more terror? He realized it wasn’t the fear of loss that held him back. It was the fear of himself. Of his own inadequacy, his own monstrousness. Because he’d already lost you. Could feel the current loss of you, your absence, acutely. Like a gaping, putrid wound. The days you’d been missing, that he’d been so fucking terrified that he’d never see you again, that you were dead, as he searched desperately for you – he was already experiencing that which for so long was the reason for his denial. And he could think of nothing now that could be worse than not having you. Of knowing his little bird was existing out in the world and that he couldn’t touch you, hold you, kiss you. Fuck his fear indeed. 

What did it matter if the world was vast and cruel if, in the end, they had one another?

“I struggled a long time with surviving. And no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for, something to be brave for,” he repeats his long ago words to her.

“You keep going for family… And she’s family.”

“Yeah… she is.”

“All this, it can’t have been for nothing.”

“It’s not. It won’t be.”

Existing in a grave for all those years, only to be violently pulled awake by a forest fire of a little girl – it changed the nature of a man. His nature had been changed irrevocably. And he needed to give this new version of himself to you now, in its entirety. And what struck him most was that despite all this, despite all he’d changed, lost and grown, since the start of all this, since Sarah died – who he was hadn’t entirely been determined yet. There was still possibility within him. There was still hope for more. And you saw that, you’d always seen that. 

In a sudden startling way, he could perceive what he was, what he lacked, what he could be. You shared that perception; your vision of him was another gift. What was it about this sudden acute sense of self perception that was so close to madness, and how was it that suddenly, when you realized you were in love, it was as if you were able to see the world as it really was? Cordyceps had blanketed the earth in a film of death that he now saw in spectrums. There was a spectrum to death as it existed in the world, as what you allowed it to shape itself, and you, as. How did you perceive death – loss? How did you let it affect you when it inevitably touched your life? Was it to overwhelm you – or exist alongside you as simply another phenomena of nature? He could exist on that spectrum set about by nature or he could break free from it. Cordyceps – and all humanities’ basest desires it catered to – could go on existing, could continue to subjugate the world to its will, but he would break free from that subjugation of fear, of death, of failure, he would live his life now as he chose to. He could perceive with such clarity now what was real and what was not. His little bird was real and alive and waiting for him. This was no delusion, no farcical whim; it was a glance down into time – into the realities he’d once known and lived in, a world before calamity and fungus and dead little girls – and it wore the staggeringly beautiful face of you, a glance at the woman he loved. 

“She’s angry with me. I– I hurt her.”

“Hmm… True… but she isn’t like us… she’s good. Kind. She’ll forgive you. She understands you.”

“Perhaps,” he says, but he isn’t sure, is terrified of the alternative, will try and make it up to you for the rest of his life if you need him to. 

“Maybe time’ll be the thing to heal this wound” 

He pauses at that, “It wasn’t time that healed it… remember?” The memory of their past hangs, once again, heavy in the air, but perhaps now, in this moment, a bit lighter than before. 

She shakes her head, gives him a small smile, “I remember.”

 She’s quiet for a moment, pensive. He’d missed her so much. This easy casual nothingness between the two of them. Just being together, talking. And as he takes her in, her chin tipped to the breeze, eyes closed, he thinks: if he could have done it all again, he would have loved her better. Perhaps made better choices. But he could not have loved her more. 

How broken, how small he must have been, just a short time ago, to have found that thought so difficult to confess, even just to himself. 

“Go find her, Joel. Tell her what you need to tell her.”

Chapter IX

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[tloubraininfection]

There is something about Joel, but especially about Pedro Pascal`s portrayal of Joel, that feels so fragile. Sure he`s a tough guy, we know he`s done horrible things, he knows how to survive and what a cost of survival is. Yet, there are those moments, when his face softens almost imperceptibly and you can see the pain of his loss clear and fresh as if it happened yesterday. He moves on quickly, but no matter how much posturing he does, there is no way to hide the fact that at his core he is a father, a protector and a deeply loving man.

There is a quote from Fleabag that has stuck with me for a long time (minor spoilers for Fleabag season 2, I guess?). In season 2 Fleabag talks about her late mom and she says to her friend: “I don’t know what to do with it. With all the love I have for her. I don’t know where to put it now.” It makes me think about Joel. We know that he had Sarah when he was only 22, there are also clues that Sarah`s mom left their family picture pretty early on. Yet, I think he`s settled into parenting with ease, it came naturally to him and he was really good at it. Life must have been very difficult at the beginning, being a young single father, working to support himself and his tiny daughter, he must`ve struggled a lot! But being a dad? Loving Sarah? That was always the easy part.

Sarah was Joel`s whole world and he was ready to love his daughter thought 10 of her lifetimes. He wanted to love her though high school and college. He wanted to love her as she grew into a young women finding her place in life, love her as she got her first job and walked down the aisle. He was ready for that love to multiply as he became grandpa Joel. And one day in far future, when he was no longer there, he`d leave her with a legacy of that love, a gift that she could keep and share and build upon.

Instead that love became a shroud.

In that moment time stopped for Joel. He adapted and did whatever he had to do to survive, but he was no longer interested in anything else. Living was for that time from before, living was with Sarah. And I think he would`ve carried on like that until he met his fate one way or another. Instead, by a stupid twist of fate, he ended up with a kid in his care. And he hated it, he wanted no part of it, because he knew. Some part of him knew from the very beginning. So he did his best to treat her like cargo and keep his distance, but she got under his skin and fast. There was something about this loudmouth, swearing, pun-loving energetic kid, this singularity of a person. She could see right through him and that terrified him. He tried so hard not to care, to run away from that connection, but when she asked him to stay, becasue with him she felt safe, he couldn’t help it. It happened despite of himself, despite all the conflict, panic and fear. It was hard and they`ve struggled a lot, but loving Ellie? Taking care of Ellie? That was the easy part.

We can argue about morality of Joel`s decision until we are blue in the face, but one thing we can probably all agree on is the inevitability of it. That decision has been made long before they`d set foot in that hospital. Joel knows the pain of losing a daughter and he`d do anything to never to feel that pain again. And I really believe he wouldn’t have survived losing Ellie, it would, quite literally, break his heart. And that is the selfish part of his choice. But I understood recently, that there is also a selfless part to it. One that is all about Ellie. It was about ensuring her future, because he sees Ellie not as a potential savior for humanity, but as a full person. Person with dreams, planes, hobbies and aspirations. Troy Baker, once said in the podcast about Joel: “He saved the world, it’s just the world was that little girl.” His girl, his daughter, who wanted to become an astronaut, learn to swim, learn to play the guitar and read every Savage Starlight comic. And he believed this is worth saving, she`s worth saving. And he saves her, knowing full well he would have to live with the consequences of this choice, suffer through them. But he has no regrets, he would`ve done it all over again, because she got to live and that means everything.

In Fleabag (same warning applies) after Fleabag says: “I don’t know what to do with it. With all the love I have for her. I don’t know where to put it now”, her friend responds: “I`ll take it. No, I`m serious, it sounds lovely. I`ll have it, you have to give it to me”.

[stylesispunk]

TIME CASTS A SPELL ON YOU, BUT YOU WON'T FORGET ME | CHAPTER 2

Joel Miller x f!oc

Chapter 2: And did you say that she loved you?

Series masterlist | previous chapter | next | masterlist

summary: Fifteen years ago, amidst the filling of divorce papers and the broken promises of a happily ever after, the world collapsed. Amidst the ruins of cities and the remnants of dreams, Joel's search for his ex-wife began. No matter where he turned, the woman who had once loved him held him captive, a presence he couldn't escape.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: tlou spoilers, angst. no use of y/n

the story's main idea is based on the lyrics from "Silver Springs" by Fleetwood Mac

a/n: Chapter 2 is here. It's way longer than i thought it would be, so I hope you like this chapter please share your thoughts with me (🥺) Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and they spark up the motivation to write. If you have any questions ask me. Happy reading.💌(If you want to want to be added to my taglist you can tell me)

September, 2003

Sometimes in life, there are some catastrophic events in life that leave you speechless.

Joel imagined that spending his first birthday without Emily as his wife would be the only one, but it was night, the world ended, and he was holding his lifeless daughter in his arms. The world had given him no warning, no chance to brace himself for the cataclysm that unfolded in their life. 

In the stillness of the night, he cradled her, she looked so tiny in the middle of this chaos. Grief welled up inside him like a bubble. He whispered her name, a tender and heartbreaking murmur with no answer. It was defeating. 

The loss of Emily was a bitter taste of what was to come, but the loss of Sarah devasted him. 

As he held his lifeless daughter in his arms, he clung to the memories, the fragments of a life that had been filled with love was long gone. He longed for a world where Emily was holding him, where his daughter was still a part of a reality, where their absence wasn’t just an envelope of pictures playing in his head. 

Emily

I had to find Emily

Through the tears that blurred his vision, Joel's thoughts came together into just one purpose. The world might have ended, but he couldn’t let his family’s memory fade completely. He had to find Emily, not just to mend what was broken, but to honor and protect her amidst the chaos. 

With Emily’s face etched in his mind, Joel dove into the unknown, driven by love, loss, and longing for the only person who could make this new world worth living again. 

Without thinking clearly, Joel stood on his heels and walked away from his daughter,

“Joel, wait!” Tommy called after his brother, quickly following after him “Where are you going”?

“To find Em” Joel answered, his voice emotionless.

“No, stop” Tommy advised, trying to keep up with his pace, but Joel kept walking with determination.

“Joel,” Tommy called again “You don’t know if Em-

“Don’t tell me she might be dead”, Joel shouted. He refused to even think about that possibility. He spotted a car. He walked towards it, and once he got to the car’s door, slammed his elbow without feeling any pain. Nothing could compare to what he was feeling inside. 

“Joel, don’t do this���. Tommy was practically shouting at Joel amidst all the chaos of people shouting and running desperately.

“You know her new address, “Joel said without paying attention to Tommy’s pleas. “Take me there or you stay here.” 

 Despite the lack of an answer from Tommy, Joel felt around for the key. 

“Okay! I will!” Tommy shouted, “Just give me the keys.” 

Joel’s body felt relieved for a second, some part of him knowing that Emily was the only chance he had left to keep him sane. Otherwise, the grief tightened in his throat was going to kill him. 

He forced Tommy to drive fast to her new house, the one where she would start writing pages of a new story without him on it. Maybe she was there waiting for him to save her. 

But when he didn’t find her there, neither did her car. His heart shattered, not because he thought she was dead, but because he thought he would never see her face again. 

Our house, the thought crossed his mind.

Maybe Emily had the same idea, he thought. Maybe she went there looking for them. 

And she didn’t even know Sarah had died. 

When he finally arrived back at his house, there were no signs of her there either, and his hopes of having her by his side again crumbled. His heart sunk into his stomach, all the memories of their home hit him like a thousand bricks. The undone dishes, Sarah’s bag by the door, the ring he had placed beside the door a week ago, the one he and Emily shared as a symbol of love. He placed it back on his finger where it truly belonged, then he set off his journey. He knew that the way ahead would be treacherous.

What Joel didn’t know that night, just a few minutes before, Emily was there too. 

15 years later

The night air grew cooler as darkness settled over their campsite. Ellie was fast asleep, her soft snores blending with the night’s hushed melody of crickets and rustling leaves.

And Emily was there.

Despite the earlier confrontation between her and Joel, she had stayed, and a heavy tension lingered in the air. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to break the silence, lifting the weight of the past and the uncertain present.  

Joel finally broke the silence, his voice low and measured. "You should have left," he said, not bothering to meet Emily's eyes.

Emily sighed, the exhaustion of her aching body and the tension of their encounter weighing over her shoulders "Why?” she replied, her voice softened from its earlier harshness. “Do I scare you?”

Joel's jaw clenched, and he finally turned to face her. The moonlight danced across his weathered face, casting long shadows that seemed to mimic his turbulent emotions. 

"Why are you here?" he demanded.

“I wasn’t following you; I swear. I thought you were dead.” She explained “I didn’t even know it was you until- “

“Until you almost shoot me,” he interrupted.

“You don’t understand”, She sighed, defeated.          

Joel's eyes bore into Emily's, demanding an explanation. The moonlight flickered in the depths of his gaze, revealing the anger he felt. 

"Then make me,” he implored.

“I-,” she hesitated before answering, choosing her words carefully, "There are…These men following me”, her shoulders slumping with the weight of the truth. “They want to kill me” she confessed. 

He could see a glimpse of fear in her eyes, and for the first time in the night, he noticed all about her. Despite the passing of time, her face still carried the signs of youth, yet it had matured with the weight of the years. He noticed the bruises on the left side of her face, dark and painful reminders of a story he didn’t know about. 

Joel's guard lowered as he was slightly worried at Emily’s confession "And who did that to you?" he asked, pointing at her face.

Emily looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Them”

Despite the events of their story, the thought of someone hunting her down weighed heavily on him.

Something deep inside him felt responsible for this. If he had kept her with him in the past, she wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

"And why are they after you?" Joel asked, his voice no longer tinged with anger but rather genuine concern.

Emily hesitated once more before responding. "Because I killed their people."

The revelation hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of the world they lived in. Joel knew he had done horrible things to survive, but thinking about Emily doing the same felt like a knife cutting through his heart. 

Emily’s eyes filled with a haunted look. "They left me no choice,” She finally added. 

A tense silence settled between them once again. 

Joel's mind raced as he considered his options. He had Ellie to protect and deliver to the fireflies, but now, unexpectedly, the woman who haunted him was in front of her again. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her on her own.

“And how do I fit into this narrative?” He asked, cautiously.

“You don’t fit into this narrative, Joel” she clarified. “I just crossed paths with you tonight. I’ll go in the morning” 

Joel contemplated Emily's words for a moment. He knew that allowing her to stay was an emotional risk for him. Nevertheless, he refused to let her go. All what they shared in the past, the love that had once bound them, still lingered, and he couldn't simply abandon her for her own. He didn’t have the heart to do it. 

"No," he finally said, his voice stout. " You'll stay with us until we reach the Fireflies. It's not safe out there alone."

“You abandoned me in the past. Why would I trust you now?” she asked, her voice flat.

“Because you don’t have another choice,” he replied,

Emily looked surprised, with a mix of anger, sadness, and resignation dancing in her eyes. She had been through too much to easily trust again.

"Fine," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay... for now."

Silence stretched and hung over them again with unspoken words. 

“Where is Tommy?” she asked, breaking the silence once more.

“I’ve been asking myself the same for the last three weeks,” Joel replied bitterly.

“Typical, is Sarah with him? I wouldn’t blame her."

When Emily met with a defeating silence, her heart broke.   She knew what that silence meant, but she needed to hear the confirmation.

“Oh god,” her voice became brittle "Sarah...”

Joel could only nod, his throat tight with the weight of grief that still clung to him after all these years. Sarah's memory was a constant ache in his heart, and unlike Emily, she would never come back to him.

“When?” she asked, whispering

Joel took a deep breath, his voice strained as he answered, "That same night. There was nothing we could do." He paused a little. “It wasn’t even one of those things. It was a soldier. A man who should have helped us” 

Emily's eyes glistened with tears as she absorbed the heartbreaking truth.

“People are the real monsters, Joel” she whispered, her voice carrying an undertone. 

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the ground; his thoughts consumed by all the events that had happened in his life. He knew Emily was right; it was the people who had become the true monsters. 

Joel didn't reply. Instead, he turned back to watch over Ellie, who was still sleeping soundly. His thoughts were all over the place now. His past caught up with him in the form of the woman of his dreams and now, she was a part of the uncertain future ahead.

Joel woke up to the sound of Ellie’s laugh. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, he was disoriented, unsure of where he was. Then, the reality hit him. He had fallen asleep once again when he was supposed to keep the watch. The pass of time was noticeable, the lines of fatigue etching across his face, his body ached and he was tired of surviving. 

Pushing aside his exhaustion, Joel forced himself to sit up, rubbing his tired eyes. 

And Emily was still there, she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. 

When Emily noticed that Joel was awake, she turned to him with a small smile. “You’re awake,” she said quietly, her voice softer than the previous night.

Joel just gazed at her, he felt strange at having her again and he wasn’t sure how to navigate this unexpected reunion with Emily. 

Ellie was unfazed by the presence of Emily. They already seemed thick at thieves. 

“I told Emily you had a stick upon your ass last night,” Ellie said. 

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Ellie's comment, and he glanced over at Emily, who seemed amused by the teenager. 

"I'm glad you two are getting along." He said, a little hint of amusement in his tone. 

“We had a good chat while you were sleeping”, Emily replied with a chuckle. 

Joel couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Ellie and Emily getting along so easily. It was like life was showing him the picture of the past in a new form. Giving him the chance to have a purpose again besides sleeping and surviving. 

As the three of them set out together, with Joel leading the way, Emily and Ellie chatted and laughed, sharing different stories, and Joel couldn’t help but feel amused by that. It was rare for him to find satisfaction in these little moments.

“Joel, are Bill and Frank nice?” Ellie asked.

“Frank is,” he answered. 

“Where are we going?” Emily asked, stepping forward to walk alongside Joel.

“To Bill and Frank,” Ellie answered for Joel.

“And who are these people?”

“Good guys,” he said, stout.

Joel and Emily continued to walk side by side, their footsteps echoing along the quiet road. 

“Who is Tess?” Emily asked.

Joel turned his head to look at Emily, 

Damn Ellie, he thought.

His expression grew somber at the mention of Tess. "Tess was my partner," he finally answered, his voice sounded sad. “We trusted each other with our lives. Tess... she was family to me."

Emily could see the anguish in Joel’s eyes as he spoke about Tess. She knew that losing was a wound that never healed. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy inside her, thinking about Joel finding someone else in this world opened a wound she had never fully healed. 

“Did you love her?” she asked the question that lingered in her mind. 

Joel hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice carrying a deep sense of regret.

""Yeah, she did... and I... I couldn’t” 

Emily couldn't help but feel sympathy for Joel, even though she believed he wasn’t capable of loving someone. 

Ellie, walking behind, stepped forward to walk beside them, sensing the tension. 

“How did you get that scar on your head?” Ellie asked Joel.

Joel sighed, exasperated by Ellie's constant questions about him.

“What? Is it something lame?” She questioned, “Like you fell down the stairs or something?”

“I didn’t fall down the stairs” Joel answered.

“So, what then?” 

“Someone shot at me and missed.”

Emily’s heart sank at that new information.

“See, that’s cool,” Ellie said. “You shoot back?”

“Yeah,” Joel said, shortly.

“You got him?” 

“No, I missed too. It happens more often than you think.”

Ellie pondered over his words “Cause you suck at shooting or like, in general? 

Joel studied her expression, clearly offended. “In general.”

Then, Ellie looked at Emily. “How did you get those bruises on your face?”

“I fell” she lied to her.

“Lame” Ellie chuckled.

Emily mirrored her expression with a smile. 

They walked for a few more minutes until they came into view of a rusty old building which was once a gas station. 

“Wait here”. She instructed both girls, “I gotta grab some stuff, Tess and I, stashed” 

“Why here?” Ellie asked.

“You ask a lot of damn questions,” he said, clearly exasperated.

“Yes,” she smiled proudly.

Joel opened the door to the building. The interior was as one might expect: dusty shelves that once held snacks and supplies, long since emptied or expired, and a counter where a cashier had once stood. It looked dirtier since the last time he was here. 

“So why did you stash things here?” She continued, but as soon as her eyes looked into the old arcade game, Joel lost her attention. 

While Ellie was over the moon with the discovery, Joel was preoccupied with trying to remember where he had hidden the weapons and supplies that he and Tess had stashed there long ago. His gaze scanned the dimly lit interior, searching for familiar landmarks.

Ellie, not one to let a moment of fun slip away, turned her attention to Joel. "Ellie, Joel forgot where he placed his stuff," Emily said, trying to assist.

Joel was prideful and stubborn, and he didn't appreciate anyone pointing out his shortcomings. "I don't need your help," he retorted, a touch of defensiveness in his voice.

Emily couldn't help but remind him of their tumultuous history. "You know, considering the way you acted the last time we saw each other, you should behave nicer," she suggested a hint of sarcasm in her tone. 

Joel just scoffed.

Emily couldn't help but roll her eyes at Joel's scoff and stepped out of the building. She knew that dealing with Joel's stubbornness wasn't worth the frustration, especially when there were more important things happening.

Once back on the road, Emily didn’t say a word to Joel. Ellie tried to strike up a conversation, but her attempts were met with mostly monosyllabic responses from Joel. Emily, on the other hand, remained silent, lost in her own thoughts.

Joel occasionally glanced at Emily through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought her back into his life after all these years.

He spent half of the years since all this started looking for her, and now that he had her back, he didn’t know how to feel. 

Finally, Ellie broke the silence.

"Why did you get divorced?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Joel as if he was the one to blame.

Emily turned to Joel, an incredulous look in her eyes. "How did you know?" she asked.

“Joel told me,” She said.

Emily glanced at Joel with surprise and annoyance, but she decided to let it go for now. Ellie's curiosity was relentless, and Emily could tell that the teenager was fishing for more details.

She turned her attention back to Ellie and decided to answer the question, even though it wasn't something she enjoyed discussing. "Sometimes, things just don't work out," Emily replied, her voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "People change” she added, looking briefly at Joel. 

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie, who was good at noticing subtle cues. The unspoken tension between the two adults was palpable, and Ellie sensed that there was more to the story than Emily was letting on.

“That means Joel changed?” she insisted. 

Joel remained silent; his gaze focused on the horizon. 

Emily hesitated, glancing at Joel again. She knew that there were some wounds that time couldn't heal, some scars that ran too deep, but she didn’t reply and that was enough for Ellie to understand. 

"Well," she said with a hint of cheerfulness, "I hope you two can find a way to fix things now. You know, since we're all together."

Joel remained silent, but his expression softened just a fraction. Emily just offered a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Finally, they made it to Bill and Frank's place, a small town gated by a sturdy fence. Emily couldn't help but be awestruck by the sight of the place. It was a little reminder of those small, tight-knit villages from the time before the world had descended into chaos.

The fence surrounding the town was reassuringly tall and well-constructed, a clear sign that these two men knew how to keep their community safe. Emily felt a glimmer of hope as they approached the gate.

“Stay here”, Joel commanded Emily and Ellie before tapping an entry code into the gate's keypad, allowing them to pass through first.

As they walked to Bill and Frank’s house, Emily noticed the change in Joel’s expression when looking at the flowers outside. They were dry. 

He went forward and opened the front door, being extremely cautious. Ellie and Emily followed him close.

"Bill? Frank?" Joel yelled, but there was no response.

Something isn't right.

"You both stay here," he told the girls. "What if they leave?" Ellie inquired before Joel moved.

Joel considered Ellie's question for a moment before responding, but Emily pipped him up.

“They would have told you, right?” she asked.

“Yes.” 

The sound of a door shutting caught their attention.

"Ellie?" Emily called out nervously, her voice echoing through the house.

Joel's jaw tightened as he exchanged a glance with Emily. He gestured for them to follow the sound. There was Ellie, sitting at the table holding a piece of paper that looked like a letter.

“It’s from Bill,” she said to Joel.

Joel sighed, putting away his weapon, all the façade he always showed was crumbling inside him, another grief was hanging over his head. 

“To whomever, but probably Joel,” she began. 

“So they’re dead?” he asked, interrupting her. He needed the confirmation. 

Joel felt a lump in his throat.

“You wanna-?” Ellie offered.

He shook his head. “Go ahead. You do it” 

“August 29, 2023,” Ellie started to read. “If you find this… please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it would probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe-“

Ellie stopped for a moment, amused by the last part, before continuing. 

“Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway… I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends… almost. And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here" 

Joel glanced at Emily, who was paying attention to Ellie.

“We have a job to do. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

Ellie stopped there, not knowing how to continue reading. She looked up at Joel, who had an unreadable expression on his face. He couldn’t save Tess. 

“Stay here,” he instructed, walking towards the front door without hesitation.

Emily, on the other hand, didn’t know what to say or even do at the moment, so she looked at Ellie for answers.

"What do you think we should do, Ellie?" Emily asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ellie looked back at Emily, her eyes meeting Emily's with seriousness. "We do what they wanted Joel to do," Ellie replied, her voice steady. "We keep going.” 

“Emily, can I ask you a question?” Ellie asked.

Emily nodded. 

“What happened between you and Joel?” she asked. “I see the way you look at him, full of resentment, and I also see the way he looks at you. He is conflicted.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, contemplating Ellie’s words. 

"I don’t know what happened", Emily began cautiously. "One day everything was fine, and the next he told me he wanted a divorce.”

“And do you hate him?” Ellie inquired. 

Emily met Ellie's inquisitive gaze with a mixture of emotions. It wasn't an easy question to answer, and Emily wasn't entirely sure of herself.

"I don't hate him," Emily replied honestly. "But I don't think I ever really got over what happened. It hurts, Ellie, and sometimes hurt can turn into resentment.” 

“So why did you stay with us?” 

 Emily sighed, her thoughts and feelings swirling in the complicated mix of emotions inside her brain.

"Because he asked?” she said, not completely sure about her answers.

Ellie seemed to understand the mix of emotions inside Emily’s head.

“Please, promise me one thing,” Ellie said. “Promise me you will stay.”

“I know if I don’t make you promise me this, you will run and I don’t want that. I want you to stay.”

 "Because I believe you can bring out the best in him, and in me," Ellie said genuinely. "Joel might not admit it, but I think he needs you."

"I promise I'll stay," Emily affirmed with sincerity.

Ellie's returning smile radiated hope, a small glimmer in a world often shrouded in darkness.

"And also, promise me you won't lie to me anymore," Ellie said. 

Emily was momentarily speechless, her surprise evident on her face.

"I know you didn't fall," Ellie continued, her voice filled with conviction. "And whoever did this to you, they won't touch you again."

"I promise I won't lie to you," Emily said with sincerity.

She appreciated Ellie's trust and the bond that was slowly forming between them.

The two of them hugged, and the beginning of a friendship between them started to bloom.

For the first time in days, Emily felt a sense of fleeting tranquility. The sound of the running water drowned out the constant hum of worry that had plagued her thoughts. She reached for a bar of soap and began to scrub away the dirt, sweat, and blood from her body. 

When Emily turned off the shower, she reached out to wipe away the steam off the mirror, revealing a reflection she had avoided for days. This had been the first time that she had seen her face. Her hair was greasy and dirty. The bags under her eyes were dark circles reflecting the sleepless nights she had been through during the last week, the dirt all over her face, and the bruises on her cheeks, a reminder that she was being hunted. 

She reached for the scissors she had found tucked away in one of the cabinets. And like in the old days, when cutting your hair symbolized a new beginning and embraced change. Emily needed to do the same. Carefully, she began to snip away at her tangled locks. Strands of hair fell to the floor, and with each cut, she felt a sense of liberation, each cut was a way to regain a sense of control over her own self. 

Once she finished, Emily stared at her reflection again, and the tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Strangely, the bruises on her cheek seemed less pronounced.

Freshly out of the bathroom, clean, and with new clothes, Emily went down the stairs to reunite with Joel and Ellie. As she approached the living room, she could hear the low hum of conversation between Joel and Ellie. Once she entered the room, Emily was met with curious glances from both of them.

A mischievous grin played on Ellie’s lips. "Doesn’t she look pretty, Joel? she teased.

Joel was momentarily stunned, struggling to form coherent thoughts at the sight of Emily's transformed appearance.

Joel finally found his voice and managed to say, "You look...different." 

Ellie couldn't resist pushing her teasing nature further. "Now that we're all clean and looking pretty, especially you two, could you get married again?"

“I’ll pass on that for now," Emily replied.

Joel stepped forward and whispered, “Is there any reason for this?”

“They are following a lonely woman with long hair” she answered, her tone matter-of-fact.

For Joel, that reasoning made sense, so he nodded in understanding. He couldn't help but notice the ring hanging from her neck—it was their wedding band. However, he chose not to say anything. Deep down, he knew Emily was using him to free herself from the danger she was facing. He knew she didn’t love him anymore, did she?

“We are good to go”, Joel announced.

Ellie and Emily gathered their belongings, and the three of them went out of the house. They placed their things inside the truck. 

“You should take the front,” Ellie suggested to Emily. “You two have a lot to catch up.” 

Ellie jumped to the back seat, leaving Emily with no option but to sit beside Joel in the front. As she looked at Ellie through the mirror, a broad grin spread across the teen's face.  

Joel reached over Emily and pulled the belt over her body. “Seatbelt,” Joel said.

Emily’s breath caught in her throat as Joel reached for the seatbelt. It was a habit he had when he used to drive her to her work. This was the closest they had been in fifteen years, and their eyes locked for a few seconds, but Emily quickly dropped her gaze to her fidgeting fingers. 

Joel started up the truck as Emily looked for something to distract herself from his presence.

“What- put it back,” Joel said “Emily.”

She held something up to show Joel. 

“This is music,” she said, popping on the cassette tape and hitting play.

“Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow?

Shatter with words, impossible to follow”

Emily’s breath caught in her throat for the second time in the last minutes, and when she was about to skip the song, Joel hit her hand. 

“No, leave it” he smirked. 

What a turn of events, he thought. 

“This is good,” Joel said as he drove “Stevie Nicks. Do you know Stevie Nicks, Ellie? 

“You know I don’t” Ellie answered, rolling her eyes.

“I search only for something I can't see

I have my own life.

And I am stronger than you know.”

Emily smiled at Ellie through the mirror, before the hurt of the past washed over her once again. The song was the one playing in the background the night she and Joel met.

December, 31st, 1999 

It had been hours since the party started. People around were expectantly waiting for the countdown for the new year, and the couples were already making their way to the dancing floor. There was something magical about finding someone in a moment like this, where the hopes of starting a new chapter were there. 

But not everyone had someone to rely on.

Joel stood there, slightly uncomfortable about being brought there by Tommy against his will. Meanwhile, his younger brother was having the time of his life flirting with a blonde on the dancing floor. He was nursing a drink in the bar, losing himself in the music. Social gatherings like this weren’t his scene.

On the other side of the room, there was Emily moving gracefully through the crowd. She was clearly enjoying her time with her friends, but something about her being the single friend made her slightly melancholic. Especially when the melody in the background was drawing the couples together, swaying to the melody of Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks. Emily couldn’t help but yearn for a connection like that of her own. 

“But I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won't be walking out the door

Still I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won't be walking out the door”

Emily couldn't shake off the feeling of longing that settled inside her, so she decided to take a break from the dance floor and headed towards the bar. Her friends were lost in their own worlds while dancing with their own partners, leaving her to wander alone around the party. 

As Emily headed towards the bar, lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings until it was too late. She bumped into a man, and her heart skipped a beat as she stumbled slightly. Before she could fall, the man in front of her wrapped his strong arms around her, steadying her.

It was Joel, a handsome stranger who took her breath away. He was surprised but not displeased. Emily met his gaze, her eyes filled with embarrassment while they stood there gazing at each other. 

“Lovers forever, face to face

My city, your mountains

Stay with me, stay

I need you to love me, I need you today”

“I’m Joel,” he introduced himself, raising his hand for her to take it. His lips curled into a smirk.

 "Emily," she replied with a soft smile, reaching out to take his hand.

At that moment, the world around them faded away. Their unexpected encounter was the beginning of something neither of them had expected to find that night. 

Now

Once Joel pressed the remote, the gate opened for them to drive out of the momentary tranquility of this place. Emily cast a glance at Joel, and it felt like a scene from an old film she had watched before. Joel behind the wheel, driving her everywhere because they used to be attached to their hips, but now they were two strangers with a past in common. 

Emily knew Joel was using her to fill the void Tess had left, 

Joel knew Emily was using him to escape her fate, 

They were using each other, weren’t they?

As they drove into the new day ahead, the soft melody of music played in the background, and the sun’s warm rays welcomed them back onto the road. The route ahead was uncertain, but they had no choice but to learn how to depend on each other again.

“The first time I saw you

I knew with you to light my nights

Somehow, I would get by

Lovers forever, face to face

My city, your mountains

Stay with me, stay

I need you to love me, I need you today”

tags: @joeldjarin @catchallfangirl

[nonexistent-introvert]

Sign of the Times

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, angst, death, depressing. Just don't read it if you're not up for this.

A/N: Based off well, sign of the times by harry styles because I cannot get over the fact that I heard this song live and I'm a sucker for song fics. the atmosphere of this fic is also loosely inspired by LIS 2 forest so hence the pic

Listen to it while reading

 “I don’t have much time Joel.” 

   Those words were not something he had expected to hear today. All warmth had left his voice and you knew that he was withdrawing himself. “You’re fine. You told me you were!” His voice got louder, the only sign that whatever was happening was affecting him despite how much he tried to suppress those feelings. “I thought I was.” You averted your gaze from him, unable to meet his eye contact. Joel stepped closer to you, “Where?” there was a demand in his voice, he was commanding you to show him. 

   You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, revealing your arm. You saw the exact moment Joel noticed the bite on your bicep, you saw how the blank look on his face turn into a mortified look. “Jesus.” He breathed out, letting out a gasp. You quickly covered the bite back up, you figured it was better if both of you did not have to see it. “Three days.” You muttered. Three days or less before you turn into one of those things. Those monsters that are unable to control themselves. 

   Joel remained silent even as he sat beside you. A fire burning to keep the both of you warm, you couldn’t bare to admit to him that you were still freezing. That despite you moving closer to the fire, the warmth never seemed to reach you. His eyes were in a daze, he hadn’t talked to you since witnessing the bite. Joel Miller was at a loss, he didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know how to proceed from there. Thoughts raced through his mind, like waves crashing onto him. He felt like he was drowning in these thoughts. 

    Not you too.

    Joel could not lose you. His fingers traced the scar on his nose. His heart burned as the memory of his past surfaced. When he had carried Sarah in his arms, he felt her body turn cold, how her cries became silent as he tried her best to ease her pain, tried his best to save her by applying pressure to the wound. Sarah grabbed onto his arms tightly in pain, her face scrunched up, whimpering and telling him that she was suffering. The peace that came afterward was bittersweet and the most heartbreaking thing that had happened to him. When Sarah’s cries died down, her eyes fluttered shut and the muscles on her face relaxed. He could almost deceive himself that she had just fallen asleep in his arms, just like every other day when she had fallen asleep while watching TV with him. However, the blood that stained his hands, her cold limb body in his arms as he cried his heart out over losing his daughter. Joel scrubbed his hands against each other subconsciously, the image of her blood on his hands haunting him even now. 

   Joel stood up, your eyes followed his figure as he went to his bag. From there, he pulled out a navy blue button-up before he sat down beside you again. His eyes were focused on the fire as he handed you the button-up. “You fought with me over this button-up, said it was your favourite colour.” You chuckled weakly, “I was just trying to talk to you. You were so uptight and well unapproachable.” He swallowed, this was the exact reason why he wanted to stay away. He didn’t want to go through this now. “It’s still your favourite colour is it not?” You nodded, holding the button up to admire it. “This is too big for me Joel, you would suit it.” Joel forced his eyes shut before any tears could run down his face. He didn’t want you to see him like this. “Just- take it alright?” The smile on your face disappeared, his hard exterior was breaking down. Seeing how much your situation bothered him, it scared you more than death did.

      Welcome to the final show

      Hope you're wearing your best clothes

    Joel watched as you wore the blue button-up over your black t-shirt as a form of outerwear. It was ironic how you always wore a black t-shirt, the black t-shirt that made all the crimson red blood stains invisible, almost like how you tend to hide your own matters and emotions in plain sight, and yet, no one ever seems to notice. Joel’s eyes fixated on yours, he’s trying to commit you to memory. His eyes drifted past every feature, his heart sinking, he should have spent more time admiring you, you were exceptionally beautiful despite the blood and dirt. No one was truly ‘clean’ in this messed-up world.

   You looked pretty good down here

   But you ain’t really good

   “Joel, you're scaring me.” He smiled weakly at the irony of that statement. Only you could still make him laugh at this time. “How are you?” You pursed your lips, “Pretty peaceful.” You rubbed your hands together, trying to mask their shaking and gain some warmth. Joel laid down, prepared to sleep for the day, his arm over his eyes as he tried to block out the light from the fire. 

  You stayed up, it felt weird, felt almost overwhelming to know you were on borrowed time. You had spent so many years wishing you were, spent each year with too much time to spare but now that you were truly on borrowed time. Everything felt unaccomplished. Joel’s snores erupted from beside you, you glanced at him with a sad look. Why now? Why did you have to meet him and succumb to this fate? Why not before? Your heart tightened, watching some of the curls of his hair fall onto his forehead. He had been complaining about his growing hair for a few days now. It was the few moments that proved that he was opening up. You scooted closer to his body, your hands shaking as they hesitated to touch his forehead. You inhaled before brushing his hair to the side, it was soft, a huge contrast to his hardened personality and scarred figure. 

   You laid down beside him, putting some distance between the both of you. You didn’t want him to know about how your body had started to shake and how cold you were. He shouldn’t have to worry about that. Joel’s hand tightened into a fist in the dark. His heart beating out of his rib cage at the contact of your fingers brushing his hair. How could he sleep? How could he sleep after knowing you were literally a timer waiting to go off? He wants to pull you closer, remind himself that for the time being you’re still you, you’re still with him. Images of him holding onto Sarah’s body flashed in his mind. 

   Yeah, he was better off keeping his distance from you. Maybe it would hurt less. 

  That was a lie, it had already started hurting. 

   We never learn, we’ve been here before

   Why are we always stuck and running from

   The bullets? The bullets

   “Joel.” You muttered into nothing. You had just woken up but your mind had gone straight to him. He was no longer beside you, his daypack was nowhere to be seen and the fire had long been extinguished. By Joel himself or the wind, you didn’t know. All that was different was the extra layers of heat you got from a raggedy blanket that you recognised was Joel’s. 

    Panic started settling in when you tried to sit up but your limbs went limb and you fell back onto the cold hard ground. “Joel,” you called out, you needed to see him. He couldn’t have left already. You stood up hurriedly, picking up your own daypack as you walked out of the makeshift shelter on a rock platform. The sun was up, so high in the sky, definitely way after Joel’s waking hours as he always seemed to wake up at sunrise. Your eyes wandered, the sight of trees greeted you all the same. There wasn’t any sign of Joel. You closed your eyes, taking steps away from the shelter as you felt your heart tighten and the lump in your throat form. Joel left. Like he always said he would, if anything went wrong, he wasn’t obliged to stay. It never felt real then, but it is the reality now. 

   We gotta get away from here

   You didn’t really have a plan. You would wander the woods until you collapse from exhaustion or turn into one of the infected. All you knew was that you wouldn’t be able to just sit down at the makeshift shelter until you eventually turned. No, you didn’t want to turn, you would rather cut things short and make it easier for yourself now. You pulled the pistol from your bag, weighing it in your hands. Guns were always more of Joel’s specialty than yours. You stared at the pistol, your hands already shaking. From fear? From the infection? Maybe a little of both.  

   “Hey!” The sound of the gruff voice and the hurried footsteps caught you, Joel. A smile formed on your lips. He hasn’t left you. He pulled you into an embrace, his hand covering your head while the other slowly took the pistol from you. “Hey, not now.” His breathing was frantic, if you knew better you would realize that Joel was terrified. You clutched onto the lapels of his jacket as you cried into his chest. “ why did you leave? Did you know how worried I was?” Joel scolded lightly, his hand still caressing your head. He frowned further as he felt you sob into his chest, and he held you tighter. “Hey, it's ok. It’ll be alright.” Joel didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t have to for the last few times. Sarah passed before he could say anything, Tess made sure he didn’t have to watch her slowly lose herself. 

    Just stop your crying

     It'll be alright

  You pulled away gently, you immediately rubbed your face with your hands, trying to erase the signs of your crying. Even if Joel knew already, it was just a habit, a habit to hide your emotions. Joel’s heart sunk further, your eyebags were sunken, your face and lips paler than he had ever seen. The veins on your face got more apparent, the veins on your hands were practically bulging out of the skin. Another sign of turning into an infected. “Joel, you need to leave soon.” You forced the words out, despite how much you hated for him to leave you. He had to, you would never forgive yourself if you dragged him down into the same circumstance you were in. His eyes remained fixated on yours, “Joel, time is running out for me.” 

   They told me that the end is near

  We gotta get away from here

   Joel let his tears fall. He had held back enough. Your heart shattered at the sight of his tears. Joel never cries and yet he just did, and it's for you. The guilt weighed heavily on your heart. You stood on your tip toes, he always teased you for your height. You place your hand on his cheek experimentally, giving him the choice to pull away if he wanted to. Joel leaned into your touch and his body shook with sobs. His body leaned down ever so slightly to better ease your movement as you caressed his beard. Your eyes shone with tears. “Joel, you’ll get to Wyoming. Find Tommy again and live the peaceful life you deserve. You know I always hated when people felt like shit because of me. So live a life that you’ll enjoy. You never smile much but I did enjoy admiring the smile of yours when you eventually grin because of me.” You joked lightly and he shook his head. Forcing a smile for you. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t trust his voice. 

   Just stop your crying

   Have the time of your life

   Breaking through the atmosphere

   And things are pretty good from here

   Remember everything will be alright

  “I’ll see you again on the other side. When age eventually catches up to you.” 

  We can meet again somewhere

  Somewhere far away from here

  Joel laid you against the rocks. It was morning again which meant it was your last day. You barely felt like yourself, your vision was fuzzy and blurry. You had a dazed look on your face but you tried your best to stay conscious. To be yourself, for the last few hours because Joel was still by your side. 

  The tear streaks seemed to be ingrained onto Joel’s face ever since yesterday. You knew he cried more when he thought you were unconscious. Your heart breaks for him, breaks for the fact that he has to go through this alone. 

  “You mean so much to me. More than you’ll ever know.” He confessed. Your heart flutters, the words you were waiting on for so long. You just never wished that he would tell you in this situation. “I know I don’t show it, but I do. I care for you so fucking much.” 

We don't talk enough

We should open up

Before it's all too much

   “I love you, Joel.” You confessed with the last of your energy. Your throat was so dry, it was like claws scratching against it every time you talked. Joel's eyes widened in shock. “You don’t have to-” “I love you too.” He reciprocated, letting his tears fall once again. “I always am too late.” He muttered, “Should have told you sooner.” He bit his lip, blaming himself for deciding to close himself off from you instead. You smiled weakly at him. “I’m honored.” He shook his head at you, only you could still make jokes at this time. His eyes fell onto his backpack as he stood up, throwing it over his shoulder. “You’ll be alright right?” Joel glanced at you, “Hopefully.” he replied. You grinned, “See you around old man.” You teased for the last time. Joel wished he could give you a better remark but nothing came to his mind. “See you on the other side.” he merely said. “Long live King Joel Miller” You laughed, coughing violently right after. Joel stood firm, instead of rushing to you. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t leave. He waved at you, just like he always did when he left to scavenge. You waved back, watching as his figure slowly disappeared into the woods. 

   You inhaled deeply. Taking the pistol out from behind you. You held it in your hands, it felt lighter than before. Your finger landed on the trigger, just a pull and it will all be over. You smiled, thinking about Joel, thinking about what could have been. In another life maybe. 

Will we ever learn?

We've been here before

It's just what we know

  Joel froze. The sound of the gunshot resounded in the woods. A Flock of birds flew from trees, startled by the sound. He closed his eyes, trying to force any image of his imagination of an unconscious you out of his mind. You wanted him to be happy, wanted him to forget about you. He had always been alone before you came along. He has been where he is now. The lone survivor, it's all he knows. He wore that persona like his skin now. 

   The tears fell and dripped onto the earth below him. His feet brought him forward, ignoring all the voices in his head screaming at him to go back to you. He had to go, he had to leave before the regret settles in, before he is unwilling to leave you. 

   It is the beginning of an end.

   A breeze gently graced him. Joel knew, he knew for sure that you did it. He knew that you were peaceful and one with nature now. It brought some kind of bittersweet comfort to him as he continued to let the silent tears fall from his face.

Stop your crying, baby

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away

[pedroscurls]

Title: Broken Souls

Character(s): Joel Miller, Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: What happens when you realize love isn’t enough? And when years later, you meet again that all the pain and heartbreak comes rushing back... Like it never left. Word Count: 2,017 Author's Note: This idea has been brewing in my mind for a while now since I wanted to write a very angsty story. For now, this will remain as a one-shot, but I might come back to it later and delve it into a multi-chaptered story. Anyways, enjoy and thank you for reading!  Warning: Angst. A lot of it. Also mentions of alcoholism/use of drugs.

You knew Joel and Tommy long before the outbreak. Being Joel’s neighbor meant that Sarah was over quite often whenever he was stuck at work, which happened to be most of the time. You didn’t mind though; you had developed a very strong bond with the young girl and a crush on her father. 

It had taken Joel a while before he finally asked you out on a date and it excited Sarah so much to know that her two favorite people were together. She always made it known that she couldn’t wait until you and Joel got married, already looking up to you as a mother figure in her life. Joel always told her it was too early to tell, but he would always spare you a glance as if he was saying…

Not right now, but we’ll get there.

Being with Joel gave you a glimpse of a life you always dreamed of. The fact that his presence always made you feel safe and seeing him with Sarah always made your heart flutter. He was such an amazing dad and despite working so much, he always managed to find a way to make it up to her. 

You and Joel were together for about two years before Outbreak Day. Your lives had changed all in one night and Sarah…

It still hurts to think about that night. Being there with Joel, with Tommy, seeing Sarah take her last breath in her father’s arms… It was never going to be the same anymore. 

But that was twenty years ago. 

And it had been ten years since you last saw Joel. 

No one had ever come close to him. No one had ever made you feel as safe as he did, as loved as he did, and every night, nightmares plagued your dreams. You couldn’t sleep, not after everything you had done to survive. 

Not after your decision to leave Joel ten years ago. 

It was the toughest decision you ever had to make, but it was one where you decided to choose yourself over the man that Joel had become. 

Long gone was the man who was so full of life, of love… He had become a broken shell of a man, putting up walls around himself not even you could break through. And you were tired. Tired of seeing him work himself day in and day out, busying himself of the thoughts you were sure were plaguing him as well. 

But you had enough. You were exhausted, seeing him numb his feelings with alcohol and pills. He hadn’t said he loved you since that night he lost Sarah and while you couldn’t even fathom the pain he felt as a father, it was as if he dismissed your feelings and your pain while numbing his own. 

“I’m tired, Joel,” you said, seeing him seated at the small table with a bottle of alcohol and pills he managed to trade for. While he had done odd jobs in the middle of the day, he was also smuggling every other night, which made his and your life a bit easier than most. 

“Then go to sleep,” he replied, void of any emotion.

“Joel, that’s not what I mean.”

Joel took a deep breath and looked over at you. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could still visibly see the pain in his eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that me being here is enough, that you love me, that you’re hurting… I want you to just be open with me.”

“M’fine,” he replied.

“You aren’t!” You stood over him, hands on your hips and tears stinging your eyes. “Why can’t you just say it?”

“This world is fucked and I’m doin’ my best.” Again, no emotion. No reaction. 

“You’re killing yourself slowly, do you realize that?” You said with a shaky breath. “I am watching you numb your feelings every night and it hurts. I am hurting… I was there that night too and–”

“Don’t,” he replied, his jaw tightening. Finally, a reaction. “Don’t say her name.”

“Joel,” you sighed. “I miss her too. You think I just forgot? That I just stopped thinking about her? You aren’t the only one that lost something!”

“She was my daughter.” Anger laced his voice. He was looking at you in a way he never had before and it terrified you. 

“I know,” you sighed heavily. “But I loved her too…”

Joel shook his head. He grabbed the bottle and took a long swig of it, staring up at you. Then, he set the bottle down and stood from his seat. In this moment, you felt so small, so tiny in comparison to him. You had always felt safe with Joel, but not right now. 

“You want to leave?” Joel said. “Then go. I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

“Joel,” you whispered, tears now trickling down your face. “I want you to tell me that you love me, that our love is enough in this shitty world, that we can heal together!” 

“I can’t!” Joel yelled. “I’m not the man I was and I don’t think I ever will be! I ain’t gonna beg you to stay, so if you wanna leave, then fuckin’ go.”

“When did this all change?” You said quietly, wiping your tears away from your face. “When did we drift apart…?” 

“The day the world ended,” Joel replied. And there it was. A slight quiver of his lip. It was barely there, but you noticed it. He was in so much pain and yet, he didn’t want to admit it. He was fine with the way things were, but you weren’t. As much as you needed him, you didn’t want to continuously watch him waste away. You didn’t want to continue to wait for him every night, watching him go straight for the alcohol and pills to help him sleep. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t even blame him for what he was feeling. 

You just wished you were strong enough to stick around. 

“I love you too much,” you whispered. You were staring at him, taking note of every inch of his face because you were sure this was going to be the last time you would see him. Behind his facade was a man who was once happy, filled with so much love. The man you were looking at now… was void of it all. “But I can’t stay here, knowing that one day you might not come home.”

Joel felt his heart breaking. He wanted to give you what you wanted, wanted to be the man you deserved, but he couldn’t. He lost a part of himself when Sarah died and he was sure there was nothing that could help. Not even you. He didn’t want you to leave, but he knew you deserved better. 

Better than him. 

“Then go,” he said quietly, softly, voice trembling just a bit. “Go…”

“After all that we’ve been through?” You replied. You were yearning for him to just say don’t leave. 

But your hope was crushed the moment he replied. 

“Yes.”

That was all it took. You weren’t going to beg anymore. As much as you hated him at that moment, you still leaned up to gently peck his lips. You could feel him kissing you back, but you pulled away as quickly as he tried to continue it. You knew that if you didn’t leave now, you weren’t ever going to. 

“I hope…” you said with a shaky breath, tears now falling continuously down your cheeks. “I hope you find happiness again, Joel, because if anyone deserves it, it’s you…” 

Joel stared at you, his eyes softening for the first time in a long time. But it wasn’t enough to make you stay. 

Your love wasn’t enough and it hurt. It hurt like hell. Love was supposed to conquer everything, but right now, it just wasn’t enough. 

“I love you,” you continued, bringing your hand to cup his cheek, feeling his beard against your fingertips. He leaned against your touch, never breaking eye contact. You knew this was it, so you tried to memorize his face, the way his skin felt against yours, and it just broke you even more. “But I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”

Joel then pulled away, walked back to the small table and looked away. “Me too.” 

—

Ten years later and here you were, at Jackson. You still couldn’t bring yourself up to say his name, but the conversations you had with Tommy about him always left you a crying mess in the comfort of your own home. He even tried to set you up with the many eligible bachelors in Jackson, but they never worked out. 

Because they were never him. 

Since leaving, you had become a recluse, only talking to Tommy and Maria, and sometimes the person you were on patrol with. No one in Jackson fully knew your story, except for Tommy and Maria of course, they just knew that you had known Tommy pre-Outbreak and that you were a good shot. 

Plenty of practice being out on your own, smuggling. Oh, if only he could see you now. 

Time helped, though. It didn’t heal all wounds, but the days got easier, the pain settled, but whenever you thought of him, it came rushing back. Always one step forward, two steps back. 

Today was your day off, but you were helping Tommy with some construction in the main center of Jackson. It was snowing and you were freezing, making sure that Tommy knew of your discomfort. 

“Come on,” he said, chuckling. “You tellin’ me that you’d rather be at home than spend time with me?”

You glared, the tip of your nose red from being out in the cold. Your body always ran cold, so whenever the outside temperature matched, you were ten times colder than most. Luckily, you were wearing a beanie and some gloves. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

Tommy laughed. “And what would you be doin’ at home, hm?”

“I don’t know, maybe be warm.” 

“Alright, alright. You got a point there. But, you’re always at home when you’re not workin’.”

“I don’t see that as a problem,” you replied. 

He gave you a knowing look. “You haven’t made any friends.”

“What? Yes, I have.”

“Who?”

You cleared your throat and lied. “Luke.”

“Who the hell is Luke?”

“Okay, fine. You’re right,” you sighed. You knew Tommy knew everyone in Jackson, so you didn’t see why lying would work. “I just– I’d rather keep my circle small.”

“Jackson is safe,” he sighed. “You’ve been grieving my brother for–”

“Don’t,” you replied. “Just don’t.”

Tommy set down his tools and looked over at you. “It’s been ten years.” 

“Not enough time,” you replied too quickly. 

“He did a number on you, didn’t he?” 

“You’re telling me that if you lost Maria, you wouldn’t act the way I am?” 

He cleared his throat. “Okay, valid point, but you left him.”

You sighed. “You don’t think I regret that decision? You don’t think that I wish I could have been strong enough to just stay? Pretending to be happy is exhausting, Tommy…”

“I’m not sayin’–”

“I’m just gonna go home,” you interrupted. 

Tommy let out a heavy sigh, watching you walk away before he reached out a hand to touch your shoulder. He turned you around, taking note of the tears stinging your eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just–” 

Then, you both heard a voice. 

His voice.

“Tommy!” 

You both turned around, looking at the man who yelled Tommy’s name. He was on one of Jackson’s horses and while he looked older, grayer, he was still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago. 

“Shit,” Tommy whispered. He gave you one glance and ran over to his brother, enveloping him in a tight hug. 

You noticed the younger girl he was with, seeing her glance around the community. 

Then, your eyes met his. 

Joel fucking Miller.

---

Part 2.

@pedrostories​

[ember-owlet]

hii :] no idea if you have open requests or are even active but i saw u write for tlou and got so excited! do u have any agere!ellie and cg!joel hcs :3c?

a/c : eee i absolutely love this request!! i will take any and all excuse to write for my favorite media (/lh) unfortunately it was sent in while i had my requests closed but i appreciate your patience in this being answered! i'm not sure if you had a preference for the show or the game but i tried to keep it as ambiguous as possible. i hope you enjoy the headcanons firelight, some of the themes i plan on making into a fic of one day ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

dynamic: cg!joel x regressor!ellie

content warnings: since the hcs take place around this time in the game, heavy theme mentions of trauma flashbacks with david and ellie vent regresses as a result. ((stay safe little firelights, you can always come back to this when you're ready.))

once joel and ellie reached sanctuary in jackson, the pair had finally found time to rest and not live every day in fear for their safety and needs for survival

with all of this time ellie would sometimes find herself staring at the ceiling of her home, paralyzed with fear

she'd felt so helpless and weak; like a rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf. she hated when her mind would go back to that time, and the endless possibilities overflowed her brain with the worst. if she hadn't grabbed the knife, what then?

the hot tears flowed as a pained shriek emerged from her throat with everything that she had.

joel would burst through the doors, his adrenaline kicking in to find ellie's room a complete mess, papers scattered and torn aimlessly around the room, drawers and tables with deep serrated marks across the oak surface and a helpless shaking form holding herself together in the middle of all of it

springing into action joel would remove the switchblade with effort from her relentless grasp, approaching her with gentle repetition of her name.

"ellie, ellie. it's me. it's me."

he would wait until she had locked eyes with him to touch her arm with the lightest trace of his fingers, waiting for a response until pulling her into a tight embrace against his form, clenching onto her so she'd never have to slip from his grasp again. "oh, babygirl..." his breaths were unconfident and tattered but yet she felt so secure from the pressure of his embrace.

she would not know how to respond, buried into the warmth of him holding her; her mind was a jumbled mess that devolved into incoherent babbles and stutters, grasping at him in response as a desperate plea to never let her go.

in another overwhelming physical response she would wail into him, responding in battered pounding to his chest as she trembled.

she was mad at everything; how he left her to fend for herself, how scary the world was, and how much she had missed him in all of it. how could she even think that? it wasn't his fault, and he did the best that he could. back and forth she fought with herself which frustrated her further into the headspace. and despite how awful she's been why does he still continue to hold her so tight?

"i got you. i got you. i'm here and i'll never let you go again." his voice cutting through the sniffles and sobs.

after a minute when she would give in to the exhaustion and slump further into the floor joel swiftly lifted her off her feet and sitting atop her bed, his arm positioned across her body as she fell into the crook of his side.

he would hum to fill the silence, rocking her back and forth to their own tune. the feeling of the vibrations against her ear would help to soothe her. he would wait and hold her forever if that is what she needed.

when she mustered the strength to stand upright on her own he would help her to clean the mess, asking her the occasional yes or no questions to fill the silence and watching for the simple shake of her head.

he would make his best attempts to find a pun or a small joke to see if he could crack a smile from his kiddo, but wouldn't take it to heart if all he got in return was a shy grin.

for the rest of the day he'd be sure to dote on her, bringing her around with him on his errands, and doing everything he could to make it comfortable for her fragile state.

and lord help anyone who dares to give his kiddo even the slightest passive aggressive look. especially when he's in protective mode.

all that mattered to joel was ellie's safety and happiness, and he would do anything and everything to be there when she needed him.

[jcniper-backup]

Summary:

Joel is dying. An unknown sickness is sweeping through the land, it’s been slowly killing everyone and throwing everything into chaos. He has the opportunity to do something good, with one last mission. Something that might save everyone else and himself. Will he take it?

Tags + TWs:

Relationships: Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us)Ellie/Riley (The Last of Us)Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us)Joel/Tess (The Last of Us) Characters: Joel (The Last of Us)Ellie (The Last of Us) Alternate Universe - Fantasy Alternate Universe - DragonsOriginal MythologyInspired by Taylor SwiftInspired by MusicProtective Joel (The Last of Us)Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us)Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us)Hurt Joel (The Last of Us)Ellie Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us)Ellie Needs a Hug (The Last of Us)Ellie Angst (The Last of Us)Useless LesbiansAngst and Hurt/ComfortAlternate Universe - MagicBlood and ViolenceEmotional Hurt/ComfortGrief/MourningLoss of LimbsPossible Character DeathIdk Just be ready for painBased on a Taylor Swift Songi want to reiterate that Joel MiGhT DiE but also he might not i really don't know right now

Backup under cut off

Prologue

The two graves that sat under the oak tree stood tall against the test of time, under the shade of the tree they were protected from the weathering of the sun. The left one was barren. There was no inscription on the tombstone, no flowers, no loving notes or gifts. There was no body that needed those yet. The right one was a rainbow of different flowers, different purples and pinks and reds and yellows, all of them different types that were known to attract butterflies. Note after note was placed in a box fastened to the base of the stone. Sarah Miller, lost too soon, loved always.

Under the bough of the tree, unmoving and eyes closed, her father sits there and imagines what things would be like if she was there with him. Alive and allowed to grow into the adult she was supposed to be. He does this every month since her death twenty years ago.

One time, one of the attendants told him he was there so much he haunted the graveyard just as much as the ghosts did. That was probably true. They didn’t understand it though. No one really did. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone either, because despite the anger that brewed inside of him, the pain that he experienced was something he didn’t wish on other people.

He stayed there until the sun started to dip below the horizon. When it did, he opened his eyes and stood up. His body ached. It had for the past five years, making him hope that he was getting closer to seeing his daughter again. “I wish I could stay longer,” He told her grave.

He always said that.

It was always an understatement. He wished he could stay until he forgot his name. He wished he could stay until he became nothing but dirt and mushrooms and food for the tree. Sarah wouldn’t want that. Sarah would never want that.

So, he leaves his daughter and walks home.

The path in the dark is a dangerous one. Eyes stare at him as he passes by, assessing how much of a threat he might be until someone with sense hisses, “Are you fucking crazy? That’s Tess’ man. She’d kill you if you hurt him.”

“I think he’d kill us all if we hurt him.” Another voice hisses. “Marlene told me he killed the drake that was poisoning the water wells with one hand. Never even got injured.”

“Bullshit,” A third voice hissed. Joel kept walking, bored of the possible mugging that might’ve happened. He wasn’t in the mood for that today.

Fire lamps cast dramatic shadows and flickering shapes across the street. Joel walked amongst the first of the lightweight drunks that were starting to come home from the Moth & Flame tavern he had just passed. A few merchant stands were still open, capitalizing on drunken customers want to sober up with various breads and meats and cheeses.

As he turned the corner, a fight broke out between two men. One was drunkenly yelling about cards. The other was laughing. He rolled his eyes, remembering when he had the energy to get into those types of situations.

The closer he got to his house, the quieter the streets got. The less buildings crowded his view. To his right, there was nothing but construction and nothingness. A void of blinking lights and scraps of metal and empty sky. Joel’s house stood up out of nothingness. It was made out of oak, yew, willow, and slabs of brick embedded with moonstone that glowed at night time.

He crossed the threshold, slung the sheath of his sword down on the table and kicked off his boots. All of the energy he had remaining him always left at the end of days like these, leaving him with even more reminders of his depleting time and energy.

Joel crashed into his bed, welcoming the restless sleep he had become friends with over the years. At some point during the night, he could feel warmth at his back, hands around him. He’s about to wake more when Tess said, “Get some rest.”

He did.

He was too tired to talk anyway.

He always was.

[jackietaylorsghost]

first off thank you for being polite and respectful with your response. i gotta say though… i do disagree that ellie was mostly mad about trust which is a real shame because i think i could have understood the whole thing more if it was about that. im sure there’s an element of that, we can probably come to that conclusion ourselves without it needing to be said, but it’s not what the game prioritised. as an aside, i have said elsewhere that whilst i think joel lied to lift the burden off ellie’s shoulders (if she’s not actually a cure, she can’t feel bad she couldn’t save her friends), i think when she spent 2 years asking he should have told her. that’s a lot to do with his inability to talk about things you mentioned! so im with you there! at a point he should have sucked it up and told her cus clearly it was sitting between them and i think she shouldn’t have found out alone.

BUT. what the game made her most mad about is this agency thing. she says on the porch when they talk that she should have died in that hospital and he took that away from her and her life would have mattered. that’s about her agency. she also writes in her journal later that she can’t tell dina and jessie why abby came after joel cus they wouldn’t understand what he did and then she adds that she doesn’t either and she never thinks she will. that’s also not about trust. that’s again about joel preventing ellie from being the cure. so for me, what she’s mostly mad about is joel not honouring her choice and allowing her life to matter by dying. for me i wanted to see ellie progress from that same feeling she had when she was 14 and its sad to me she doesn’t. and i think she could have done that through the life joel gave her in jackson. like the world is bad and ive lost ppl i love but life can be good and safe and i deserve to live it. and then comes the lightbulb moment of oh that’s why joel saved me, bcus my life always mattered. that’s what part 1 was about you know?? finding a reason to live and loving despite the pain of that world. but that moment never comes, even after 25 hours of torture. which for me makes the game ultimately pointless and miserable. im not exaggerating when i say it was the most miserable media experience of my life. so im never gonna be persuaded into thinking it had meaning and im unlikely to play a part 3 unless it comes out and they’ve treated ellie much better and it’s not such dark and bleak misery porn. i don’t enjoy games like that at the best of times. i enjoyed 1 bcus it had moments of hope and joy that i found were missing from part 2.

but i do think you’re right about the trust thing and i think if that had been the main focus it would have felt less out of character for me and less like ellie was stagnant and not allowed to grow for 5 years (i say ooc bcus ellie im scared to end up alone and ellie who wanted every second she could have with joel and riley not speaking to joel for 2 years is so ?? to me especially in the context of that world where time is always short and every day joel could go out on patrols and not come back. i could see the relationship being colder and different but not a complete rift like we see - for me that was chosen to increase our/ellie’s suffering). got waylaid there haha but what i meant to say is id have understood that more so perhaps if you’d have been on the writing team part 2 would have been more for me jajsjdjd

anyway thanks for chatting with me! i do enjoy parsing it all out with ppl who have a different view and seeing other viewpoints!!

I have a bit of a hot take regarding tlou/tlou2 which is that sometimes a parent will make a decision that goes against a child's wishes for their own wellbeing. I've heard it said "What parent wouldn't make the choice Joel did" and I think it relates to that, taking in everything with the fireflies and that Ellie is A Child, I think Joel was in the right to make that choice for her. I hope this doesn't come across as dismissive of Ellie, because I'm more trying to think of it from the point of view of a parent. Sorry this was so long.

i honestly think this is a very normal take and any to the contrary i find so baffling lol. like look we can debate all day about whether joel did the morally right or wrong thing in terms of the wider world and in regards to his lying too. i personally think he lied to alleviate ellie of this burden she was carrying that she personally had to save the world to make it up to her loved ones that they died and she didn’t. in the context of him telling her that he’d struggled with surviving but you had to find something to live for i can see his wish for her to not carry that burden cus ofc as a parent you wouldn’t want that and for me i think it’s a bit of a superficial take to say he saved her and then lied out of selfishness cus he couldn’t bear to lose her bcus whilst yes it benefits him too, i don’t see that as his primary reasoning - I think this is backed up too when he tells ellie that he’d do the whole thing again. that’s so striking to me cus the (stupid) consequence of his actions was losing a kid for a second time but despite that pain, knowing that consequence, he’d do it again. doesn’t smack of selfishness for me, i think that’s incredibly selfless of him actually considering he’d lost a kid before and took so long to get over it. but that’s MY interpretation and everyone’s will be different and i can at least acknowledge that.

but this continued nonsense about joel doing the wrong thing for ellie when he saved her bcus he was taking away her agency makes me want to die actually. it’s so fucking weird. ellie is ready to die bcus of TRAUMA. and that’s not actually a good reason to let a 14yr old kid die. if we wanna talk about agency/autonomy let’s talk about how the fireflies were attempting to manipulate/exploit ellie’s trauma and survivor’s guilt in order to justify what they were going to with her, cus that’s far more fucked up and is what ACTUALLY takes away ellie’s agency. it so fucking exploitative. ‘you know she’d want this’ well first of all then at least have the decency to actually ask her and second of all yeah i think she’d have agreed to it but wanting to out of guilt and trauma isn’t actually a free choice lol? and there should be no fucking debate on that. joel absolutely did the right thing to stop them.

i think a big part of this agency/autonomy thing is a result of part 2 lol. i think it’s easy to use it as some war cry to justify why joel had absolution coming to him and deserved to be beaten to death the disgusting way he was. almost as though it’s some sort of justification for abby and liking her. joel had it coming blah blah he stole the cure from the world and he took away ellie’s agency go abby!! which is just bullshit imo but what can you do.

what i think is the biggest shame of all is that part 2, in its attempt to justify a complete estrangement between joel and ellie so that her suffering would be Worse when he died (cus they didn’t give her enough trauma in that horrible game), went with this idea of ellie being mad that joel took away her chance to have a life that mattered. that fucking sucks for me cus she’s my favourite character and i wanted more for her. i wanted to see her overcome that trauma and let go of her guilt by realising it wasn’t her fault her friends died and i most of all wanted her to realise her life ALWAYS mattered and that’s why joel saved her. instead ofc the narrative wouldn’t work unless we had 25 hours of it being shoved down our throats that joel was so Wrong for saving ellie that they didn’t examine his actions and the reasons with any nuance or care, it was just so superficial and boring and heavy handed. how sad that at 14 ellie was ready to die bcus of trauma and thought her life didn’t matter/have value unless she was a cure and at 19 she still thought her life didn’t matter cus she wasn’t a cure. she deserved better. from the narrative AND this fandom that, if they actually cared about her as a character, wouldn’t keep banging on about joel taking away her agency/autonomy and would have wanted to see the same growth in her i wanted to see instead of thinking it’s some great masterpiece that she’s completely stagnant, even after she’s been tortured relentlessly for 25 straight hours lmao. i find it all so bizarre to see ppl claim to care about ellie but don’t see anything wrong with how the devs treated her in order to tell their misery porn story. these are the same ppl who so patronisingly write on this app about how they’re ‘the real fans’ (ive had this directed to me personally) cus they were sooooo clever to understand part 2 lmfaoooo.

anyway this got away from me and was far bitchier in parts than id intended it to be ajsjjs it just Grinds My Gears when this agency crap comes up cus it’s ridiculous BUT yes i agree with you completely.

[valwentinefics]

Hello!! May I request a Helmut Zemo x Reader where he comforts them from a really bad nightmare? Maybe he whispers sweet phrases to them in his native language? The reader can be female or gender neutral, whichever one you feel most comfortable with!

A/n: Thanks for the request I loved writing it, we need more soft Zemo in our lives. I did she/her pronouns because I feel more comfortable writing it (despite preferring they/them myself like what’s up with that??) I hope you’re fine with the addition of a lullaby at the end I just couldn’t help myself.

I never will be far away - Zemo x F!Reader

German is being used as Sokovian, translations are in the text. The song is Lullaby by Billy Joel.

Thank you to @grazessa for translation help!

The soft moonlight shone onto Y/n’s face as she awoke with a gasp, sitting up with heaving breaths. Her mind was filled with thoughts of her nightmare as she sat in the silent bedroom, the darkness consuming nearly everything but the body of her husband beside her. She brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in them, the tears flowing from her eyes easily as her muffled sobs filled the once quiet room. She didn’t notice the soft sound of sheets rustling as her husband Helmut Zemo awoke beside her, his soft brown eyes looking at her with concern as she cried into her hands.

Zemo sat up, reaching out his hand and placing it on her back, gently rubbing circles into it with his thumb. “Liebling (darling), what’s wrong?” He asked softly, his voice raspy and accent thick from just waking it.

 “It’s nothing important Helmut, go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you.” Y/n sniffled. 

“Hey, hey.” He said softly, grabbing Y/n’s hands gently and holding them in his own large warm ones. It was surprising how a man who had killed so many and ruined countless lives could be this soft and warm. “If it’s bothering you it’s important. Please, I want to help you through this, I don’t like seeing you upset.” 

Y/n let out a shuddering breath. “I’m just… I can’t bear the thought of you going back to prison. Every moment without you was painful, I felt as if I was suffocating on my own loneliness, and then I just had a nightmare of you being taken away from me again.” She clung onto Zemo, burying her face into his neck as sobs racked her body. He held her close silently, rocking her ever so slightly as his one hand played with the ends of her hair, the other rubbing her back soothingly.

“Schatz (sweetheart), I cannot promise I won’t be forced to leave you again, but I’ll do everything within my power to get back to you. You’re my wife, my true love, and it pains me to be away from you as much as it pains you.” He mumbled, eyes filling with tears. He wished to give her a better life. One where they could live in domestic bliss without the fear of the Dora or the government coming after him. A life where they could have a son and daughter running around cheerfully, lighting up rooms with their smiles. That was the kind of life Y/n deserved and it shattered Zemo’s heart that he wouldn’t be able to give her it. 

“I wish things were different Schatz (sweetheart), I wish I could give you the peaceful life you deserve, but what I can do is cherish and protect you and pray that is enough, that I am enough.” He continued.

Y/n lifted her head out of the crook of his neck, pressing her forehead against his. “That is enough Helmut, you are enough. I just can’t stand to lose you a second time.”

“Liebling (darling), I will fight my way through anything to see you. I promise you darling, even if I am taken, I will never be far away.” He said, cupping her cheeks. “Now get some rest meine Liebe (my love), and sleep well knowing I won’t leave your side.”

Y/n gave him a sleepy nod, shuffling under the covers, the tears no longer falling down her face.  Zemo sat beside her as she closed her eyes, his hands running through her hair while he began to softly sing. His voice wasn’t perfect and melodic, but to Y/n it was home, and led her to a peaceful sleep easily. 

“Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes, And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, Then you should always know, Wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.” 

Zemo paused as he heard the gentle snoring come from his wife’s sleeping body. “Schatz, du schaffst es irgendwie, schön auszusehen, selbst wenn du im Mondlicht schläfst. Ich verspreche dir von ganzem Herzen, dass ich dich niemals verlassen werde, egal was uns im Weg steht. Ich werde immer zurückkommen, meine Liebe, du bist mein Licht, meine Luft, mein Herz.” (Honey, you somehow manage to look beautiful even when you sleep in the moonlight. I promise you with all my heart that I will never leave you no matter what stands in our way. I will always come back, my love, you are my light, my air, my heart.)

He gently pressed his lips against Y/n’s head, vowing to himself he would do everything in his power to give Y/n the life she deserved, free of turmoil and strife. A life where they could grow old together without fear of him dying or being taken away. A life of domestic bliss.

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Walls

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Warnings: I made this angsty as hell and I don’t know why. Vague allusions to spiciness, unrequited love (maybe?), emotionally stunted Joel

Word Count: 1,340

Author’s Note: This is set pre-TLOU. Joel is kind of a dick here. I blame the fact that I’ve been reading Dirt on Ao3 and am just a tiny bit disillusioned with him at the moment. This probably isn’t what you expected, but I promise I have some Joel fluff coming up soon and I hope you enjoy it anyway, anon! 

Prompt: Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings.

Summary: You were never supposed to fall in love with a broken man. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

“You really think this is the best time to have this conversation?” Joel demanded, a hint of irritation in his voice. 

It wasn’t. You knew that. It hadn’t stopped the words from tumbling out of your mouth. We need to talk. 

You’d known Joel for about a year now, having met him and Tess shortly after finding your way into the Boston quarantine zone. It hadn’t taken long for you to find yourself in Joel’s bed, content to pass your nights in blissful ignorance of the outside world. 

You and Joel were… something. He was a complicated man with no concrete role in your life, and it was killing you. He was obviously more than a friend, but describing him as your boyfriend was strictly, absolutely out of the question. You suspected that he’d walk straight out the gates of the QZ, never to be seen again, if he ever caught wind of you uttering that word and his name in the same sentence. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have blamed him. 

You knew you were being unfair to him by asking for more. It was a complete violation of the unspoken rules of your undefined relationship, but things had changed. You needed answers. 

“I meant what I said, Joel. I need to know what we’re doing here.”

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” You shrugged. “If you ever wanted to tell me how you feel, it’s now or never.” 

“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It was a dangerous move on your part. Joel wasn’t a man who reacted well to being backed into a corner, but you were so sure… 

“I heard that one of Robert’s guys has a thing for you. Jacob or Jason or… whatever his name is. This have somethin’ to do with that?” Joel wondered, shifting the attention away from him. He knew you better than to believe you would let this go, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

You almost roll your eyes at the question. It was so obvious to everyone else that you were head over heels for him. The idea that you would end things with Joel for someone else was downright laughable to you now. 

“No,” You shook your head. “This isn’t about that. I’m talking about us.” 

Joel’s jaw tensed at your use of the word. 

“There ain’t an us, remember?” He said, a mocking dreaminess in his tone as he echoed the word back to you. “That ain’t the arrangement we made.” 

The arrangement in question was supposed to be a way to scratch an itch, plain and simple. Nothing more than a way to blow off some steam and distract yourselves from the struggles that came along with the end of the world as you knew it. At first, you’d thought that both of you had seen too much and lost too many people to go and do something as stupid as falling in love, but here you were, in over your head and so sure that there could be something more here, if only Joel would let you in. 

“Well, maybe I want to renegotiate,” You challenged. “I know you care a lot more than you let on. Maybe you can hide it from the rest of the world, but I know you better than that, Joel.�� 

You thought you did, at least. For all of the walls Joel had built around himself, they had seemed less insurmountable as the months had passed. As if each passing night together helped knock them down, brick by brick, giving you the glimpse of the man he used to be. The one you’d fallen in love with. 

You thought back to the night when he bandaged your sprained wrist after a scuffle with Bill on a smuggling run. His calloused fingers were so delicate on your skin as he wrapped it in a makeshift brace, and his eyes flickered to yours every so often to check that you were alright. And then there were all of the times that rations ran particularly sparse, as they usually did, and he offered to share his food, claiming that he wasn’t hungry and insisting that you finish it up for him. Joel was a caregiver by nature, even if he believed that life was behind him now. 

Most often, though, you saw that softer side of him in the quiet of his tiny, run-down apartment, with the moonlight streaming in through the window and Joel’s sleepy smile as you exchanged stories about your lives from before. With his arms around you as you slept, safe and warm, it was easy to forget that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. In moments like those, you had been so sure that deep down, Joel loved you. 

You didn’t see that man now, standing in the dim lights of his dingy kitchen. The Joel that stood before you was harsh, made wary by a lifetime of pain and loss. The more you said, the higher his walls went up. They were towering over you now, just like they had been the day you’d met, as if the past few months had never happened. 

“You knew what this was when we started this,” He grumbled, shaking his head. You could see that he knew where this was headed. You were treading on thin ice here, but you couldn’t stop the words that left your mouth. 

“I know. I knew. I mean, I thought I did, but… then I fell in love with you, Joel. And I just thought…” I thought you loved me too, you wanted to say. “Is the idea of someone caring about you really so horrible?” 

The desperation in your voice seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. It was too late to turn back now, the fragility of whatever it was between you so apparent as the seconds crept by without a response. 

Your words seemed to have struck a nerve with him, his nostrils flaring slightly as he ground his teeth together. He seemed to fight with himself over a response before settling on his biting words. “I told you, I don’t want to hear it. That ain’t what we’re doin’ here. I think you’d better get on home now. Curfew will be here soon.”  

“Please don’t shut me out,” You said softly, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm, practically begging him to look at you. “I love you, Joel. It’s okay to let yourself care about someone again, you know? You aren’t going to lose me too.” 

When he finally turned back to you, you noticed that a coldness had sparked in his eyes. It told you that you’d crossed a line, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to go back. He’d never looked at you that way before, and it frightened you in a way that you hadn’t expected, like looking at a complete stranger. 

“This is over.” His voice was hollow and rough like gravel, and as if a part of him was pained by the words despite the finality in his tone. 

Your heart sank at his reaction. It hadn’t been the one you’d hoped for, but it was the one you should have expected. Wherever that man you loved was, Joel seemed determined to bury him along with the life he’d left behind him in Texas. You looked at him one last time, the broken man who’d stolen your heart. 

In a different time and place, in another life where you’d met in a coffee shop instead of a quarantine zone, you liked to think he could have let himself love you the way you loved him. But in this life, the one where he had already lost so much, you knew you couldn’t have that. The walls were just too high. 

“Yeah, I know,” You breathed out shakily, already heading towards the door as the tears threatened to spill over your cheeks. “Goodbye, Joel.”

General Taglist: @theravenreads​ @marshmallowtraver​ @computeringturtle​ @maythxthirstbxwithyou​ @artsymaddie​ @heythere-mel​

Joel Miller (The Last of Us) Taglist: @agirllovespancakes​ @din-damn-djarin​

[smaidjor]

i know they're losing (chapter 2)

Hello everyone! Since the last chapter received such a positive response (well, if screaming could be called a positive response), I've decided to not make you all wait long for the second chapter of this fic. Also, I have no self-control. Anyways!

Once again obligatory disclaimer this is characters not people, don't ship real people, etc.

Chapter Title: over snow and winter's morn

Chapter Wordcount: 3203

Content warnings: more discussion of death, also quite a bit of Scott being a bit of a dick. He's going through it, besties.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Actual fic under the cut:

Jimmy doesn’t get a chance to return the ring any time in the next few weeks. Scott must have told Katherine that he visited, since she doesn’t come to bother him about it, and every time Jimmy tries to go to Rivendell, something gets in the way. Demon attacks, urgent business in his empire, once even Scott’s own guards turning him away. Apparently Scott is a ‘busy elf’. Jimmy doesn’t doubt he is, but he also doesn’t doubt that Scott’s actively trying to avoid him. Scott is a petty man, ultimately, and Jimmy knows this, used to love it like he loved all his husband’s flaws, all his imperfections that were perfect to Jimmy. Now, though, it just hurts that Scott’s turning that pettiness on him.

Finally, something changes. Jimmy gets an invitation (in person!) from one of his closest allies; Lizzie wants to hold a ball, and she wants as many people as possible to come. It will be fancy and formal, with dancing and politics and all the things Jimmy’s just a bit awkward with, but he is an extrovert at heart, and well...Scott will be there, as Lizzie warns him.

“I know you and him don’t really get on, so I get if you don’t want to come. I really hope you will, though, it’s going to be a fun night!”

Jimmy nods. “I’ll be there! I need to talk to Scott anyways, actually, got to return this ring to him. It’s important, I think.”

“Gotcha! See you there,” Lizzie says with a broad smile. Jimmy appreciates that she doesn’t ask any questions about the ring, especially given that it’s the one thing holding together his emotional state right now.

And that’s how he finds himself frantically searching for something fancy enough to wear to a formal ball, wishing he’d had the forethought to plan for this a bit better. Scott would have planned, he thinks, would have had an outfit laid out for each of them and the time it would take them to get there exactly calculated.

He shakes that thought off, settling for a green tunic with copper accents. It’s not the most elegant thing in the world, especially when you take into account the slime that’s dripped onto it, but it’ll have to do. It’s representative of his empire for sure, and the copper is a nod to his ally. It’s good enough, and that’s what matters, Jimmy thinks.

Lizzie greets him when he enters the ballroom, smiling widely with her new fiance by her side. “Jimmy! Glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I did make it! Here I am!” The smile he gives her is genuine; he likes Lizzie. She's fierce and kind all at once, the best kind of ally.

Joel offers him a brief wave, which Jimmy happily returns before Lizzie drags him off to chat.

“So, heard from a little birdy you’ve actually been visiting Scott,” Lizzie says, a grin like the cat that got the bird on her face.

“As a favor to Katherine,” Jimmy quickly clarifies.

She nods. “She did say that, yes. She also said she heard about the visit from Scott himself.”

Jimmy hates himself a little for being pathetic enough to ask “What did- did she say what he said? Was he talking about me?”

“She didn’t say exactly, but he seemed ‘shaken up’, apparently...and a little wistful.”

“Oh, no. Lizzie, no.”

“Say, why did you have his ring?” She’s still grinning, a little more evil this time.

“It’s a long story!” Jimmy blurts, and flees. How’s he supposed to say ‘oh we were married on a server where we thought we were going to permanently die and then we respawned here and now Scott’s refusing to talk to me because the grief over my last death is slowly killing him’ tactfully? There’s just no way to do it! Nice one, Jimmy, now she thinks you’re in love with him or something, he thinks ruefully. Not that he isn’t- wasn’t. Wasn’t. Scott’s made it very clear that he and Jimmy are through.

Still, even with his depressing thoughts, the ball is pretty okay. No one’s gotten assassinated, there haven’t been any demonic appearances, Lizzie’s already showing off her engagement ring, and he’s pretty sure Joey’s going off about how hot demons are. It’s a decent party, by empires standards.

Scott makes an appearance some twenty minutes or so later, stepping into the ballroom with typical elven grace. He’s not a very elven elf, as he once told Jimmy, short and sarcastic with a love for mortals, but he still looks twice as elegant as everyone else in the ballroom. The shakiness in his step from a few weeks ago seems entirely gone, and for a minute, Jimmy’s heart leaps in hope. Maybe he’s getting better?

Well, only one way to find out. Jimmy swallows the complicated knot of emotion in his chest as he crosses the ballroom, coming to an ungraceful stop in front of Scott. Up close, the elf looks worryingly pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like a strong breeze might sweep him away.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy returns, dipping his head a little. Look, Scott, he can be formal too, alright? “Care for a dance?”

Scott stares for a long moment before giving a single nod. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind.” He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Now, Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and he’s not too proud to admit it. He steps on Scott’s feet, gets off-rhythm once or twice, and nearly crashes them straight into Lizzie and Joel. But despite their current status as enemies(ex-spouses?), Scott says nothing about it. He’s silent, in fact, seemingly caught up in the music. There’s something wistful about his expression, something soft and gentle hidden under his icy facade. If Jimmy tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that the two of them are back in 3rd life, dancing under the stars, and Scott is looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

The illusion is shattered, however, by how heavily Scott is leaning on him by the end of the dance. He’s unsteady on his feet, grip like iron on Jimmy’s hand and shoulder. Though Jimmy can’t feel his hands though the gloves, when he brushes against Scott’s arm, it’s still a little too cold to be entirely right.

The music slows and then pauses before the next song, and they head for the edge of the dance floor.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He steps away, face falling back into the emotionless facade so quickly it’s hard to be sure the tender expression of a moment before wasn’t a dream.

That’s the final straw for Jimmy’s fragile self-control. “Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?”

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

“Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I’m still in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says, a little softer, a little bitter. “I know, trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

“Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf!” They’ve kept their voices low enough, but people nearby are still starting to stare at them. Jimmy can’t bring himself to care. “You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

Scott’s expression is pained for a moment before he covers it with a glare. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

“I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.”

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy protests. “I want you.”

“You can’t have me.”

“But why? Why, Scott?” His voice breaks, embarrassingly enough. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.”

“I can’t give you that!” Scott snaps. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.”

“Enough for me? For ME? All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existance once in a while!”

“And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?” Scott counters.

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

In the silence that follows, he realizes that most of the ballroom must have heard the end of their little lovers’ quarrel. In fact, Lizzie’s somehow appeared next to him, laying a hand on his arm.

“Is everything alright, boys?” Her tight smile says that they will most certainly get kicked out of the ball if they continue this, and Jimmy can’t blame her.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” Scott says, switching to a formal tone with ease that Jimmy envies. He dips his head in respect, and only Jimmy sees how his hands tremble. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.”

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and sweeps away.

“Coward!” Jimmy shouts after him, anger making him bold. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

“Stop it,” Lizzie scolds. “You’ve already made quite the scene, and I did essentially kick him out. I’m not sure how much further you really want to carry it.”

“He is though, Lizzie, he’s a coward! Doesn’t want to face me because that means facing- well, facing everything that’s happened!”

“What do you mean, everything that’s happened?” Lizzie turns to the gathered audience of people who have been watching the spat, shooing them off as best as possible. They slowly disperse, thank goodness. “You and he are enemies, right?”

Jimmy almost winces. “It’s a bit- it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“I can see that. Jimmy, that looked like a messy breakup!”

“It, um, well, it was. Sort of.”

“Oh, Jimmy.” Lizzie’s giving him a sympathetic look, which she follows up with a tight hug. “Next time, how about we don’t invite him?”

He nods against her shoulder, rage leaving him as quickly as it came. Instead, he just feels...tired. “Thanks, Lizzie.”

“Of course. We look after each other, yeah?’

“Yeah.”

Jimmy leaves the ball exhausted, still reeling from everything that happened. The few lingering bits of anger are what gets him home, a bitter taste in his mouth from the bitter words he spat. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott! He refuses to regret them.

Scott’s ring nearly ends up in the swamp again, but Jimmy’s cooled down enough by the time he gets back that he can’t bear to throw it away. Instead, it goes in a box which he tucks into his old storage chest, somewhere he’ll never have to see it again. Scott can go to hell if he wants the ring back after all that.

-

For a while, Jimmy’s plan to tuck the ring and never think about Scott again seems to be working. Lizzie visits a few times to check on him, but she never asks specifically about Scott, and Jimmy doesn’t say anything about him. He receives radio silence from Rivendell, and he tells himself that it’s good, that he doesn’t want to hear from Scott.

So yes, his plan is working, up until he gets a knock on his door and opens it to find Scott there.

The elf looks terrible, frankly, almost worse than he did at the ball. His hair, which is usually so nicely done, is a mess, cyan strands falling all across his face. His clothes are wrinkled and have swamp mud on them, his eyes have dark circles as violent as bruises, and he’s swaying a tiny bit. In short, he looks like he didn’t sleep for a week, chugged coffee, and fought god in a denny’s parking lot.

Jimmy thinks he’s kinda hot.

No, he doesn’t. Fake news, brain.

“Hi,” Scott says.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy’s voice rises, in shock or outrage even he doesn’t know.

“I came to apologize.” Though he looks like he’s going to pass out at any second, Scott’s voice is steady. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps, but there’s little real rage behind it.

“I know. I- uh- fuck.” Scott’s hands are shaking as he pulls out a little box from some hidden pocket. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy takes it, curious despite himself, and finds that what’s inside is a silver bracelet with little crystals embedded in it. Flowers are the predominant design; he recognizes roses, hyacinths, irises, anemone, and poppies. On the underside, there’s elven lettering, though Jimmy has no clue what it says. The whole thing is a little clumsy, not quite as professionally made as the ring Scott once gave him, and Jimmy looks up at Scott. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.”

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says.

Scott’s shoulders slump with relief. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts again, a tremble in his voice that wasn’t there before. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.”

“Is it that- that dire?”

The barest nod. “This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, Jimmy staring down at the bracelet.

Scott breaks it. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am yours still, if you’ll have me.”

A part of Jimmy is very tempted to throw both Scott’s gift and his love back in his face. He can’t bring himself to stay mad, though, not when Scott’s looking at him like that, with so much raw vulnerability. So much devotion, like Jimmy’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It would be so, so easy to break that last strand of fragile hope in his expression; he’s offering up his heart on a silver platter, ready to shatter. Jimmy could- should- yell at him, reject his gift, tell him that he’s ruined any chance he has at Jimmy’s love.

Jimmy kisses him instead. It’s messy and it’s sudden and he very nearly drops Scott’s gift in the swamp in his haste to tangle his hands in Scott’s hair and press their lips together, but it’s real.

The little startled noise Scott makes gets cut off by Jimmy’s mouth on his. Scott’s lips are chapped and taste a little of glowberries, but Jimmy doesn’t care. He’s going to kiss his damn husband, something he thought he was never going to get to do again.

When they finally have to separate, Scott’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed. It’s a good look on him, Jimmy thinks, much more alive than his pale, rigid expression from before.

“So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?” Scott’s voice is wry, collected, but his blush ruins the smooth effect.

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

“Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again, just to shut him up. Scott goes with it easily, leaning into Jimmy’s embrace without complaint.

They pull apart quicker this time, and Jimmy holds the bracelet out. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott nods. His hands are cold against the skin of Jimmy’s wrist when he fastens the clasp, but Jimmy grabs them and holds them in his own warm ones until they don’t feel quite so much like ice. It’s something. It’s a beginning.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he doesn’t let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk about a lot of things. Empires, 3rd life, nightmares. Pufferfish, cake, flowers. They talk about the trials and tribulations of ruling; really, Jimmy complains that people keep attacking him and Scott nods in sympathy.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please,” he adds, feeling his face flush at how desperate he sounds.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep.”

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

“No, no.” Scott kneels back down, peering at him like Jimmy’s a puzzle that needs solving. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Jimmy.”

“I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts, and immediately flushes again. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

“Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me,” he manages. “It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!”

Scott’s frowning, worry wrinkling his brow. “Alright. How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.”

Jimmy nods, feeling especially pitiful as Scott helps him to his feet. “Thank you.”

“Always. Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just….give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Scott doesn’t elaborate, and Jimmy is too distracted looking for the ring to ask what he means.

Scott’s offer of protection feels flimsier when he has to lean on Jimmy as they travel back to Rivendell, but even then, it’s impossible to feel quite so afraid now that Jimmy isn’t alone anymore. And it’s even harder to fear anything that could happen when he’s safe in a warm bed, his head tucked against his husband’s chest. They’ll be okay, Jimmy thinks. They’ve been given another chance, and this time they’re going to get it right.

[poodlejoonas]

Dad!BC AU - before and after

Because I’m feeling so soft tonight, I wanna share my thoughts on the guys before and after they become dads. Everyone knows that kids change people, but sometimes the change is nice and wholesome. 

I blame Joel and his sentimental edgy ass for that post on Instagram earlier.

(Under the read-more for length)

As the first dad of the group, Joonas was terrified of what the change would bring for him and Kirsten. He knew he would make his mistakes and he dreaded the day they would come. He was afraid that he was too immature to be a father - he read the comments online about him as a punk, about his Danish girlfriend who could barely read the hate comments written about her, and about their baby and how so many people “wished the poor girl luck” in dealing with a childish father like him. On top of that, Kirsten’s parents were begging her to leave Finland and him so they could help raise Sohvi because they thought they could do a better job than him. He was motivated to become the best dad he could be to prove them all wrong, but also to give his daughter the best life she deserved. He admits to his mistakes in the early days of fatherhood - he knows he should have been kinder to Kirsten when she was struggling mentally as a new mom.

Years later, with their third child on the way, the first two are a little bit older and they adore the hell out of their dad. Sohvi loves music like him and unapologetically stands her ground on the things she believes in. Lukas is a cannonball of a personality who loves the ice and playing hockey as much as his cousin Enkka. And the youngest of the Porkos, Jakob (aka “Jaska”) grows up to enjoy the softer things in life - reading, baking, knitting, and cuddling on a lazy day. Even through his busy schedule, he makes time to make memories with each of them in a way that matters to them - jamming out with Sohvi, skating with Lukas, and reading bedtime stories to Jaska. They all take his punk attitude, the very thing that many people used to discount his abilities to raise one child, let alone three. His family is perfect, and he realizes now that he had nothing to fear when he held his daughter for the first time.

--

Joel had never given the thought of a family of his own much consideration. He was too busy being a rock star and conquering the world, and he was afraid of what the change after having a kid would look like for him. He wanted to be happy for Joonas when he told the group in Rotterdam that he was going to be a dad, but he was afraid of losing his best friend to an uncertain future. He grew to love his niece, after some time and a little bit of effort on his part, but he still thought they just weren’t for him.

When he went out on a blind date with Emilia Peltonen months later, he wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere from there. But she gave him a second chance, and a third, and so on, until they were finally living together. Milli finally asked him what he thought of the idea of having kids, and he thought he needed “some time” to think on it. It took him all of about 12 hours to make up his mind, but they waited almost a full year before they were finally successful. In that time, he asked her to marry him, regardless of whether a baby would even come along. Still, he had his doubts about his own abilities to give his son a happy life - he was impatient and snappy, his mental health would fall apart some days, he was never the most affectionate person. And yet, none of that matters to little Viktor; Joel is his idol and, in his mind, he’s the coolest guy on Earth and he wants to be just like him someday. He teaches Enkka to skate and fosters his love for hockey and music. When Enkka needs a hug, either when he’s sleepy or he just woke up from a bad dream, he knows his dad will be there to catch him. So many people love to see that he went from being a dark edgelord online with a pessimistic sense of humor, to being the best dad and husband of their group whose public presence is covered with the signs of his pride in his family. Joel’s transformation surprised so many people, but the change was a welcome sight.

--

(TW: mention of miscarriage)

Niko wanted to be a dad from the beginning. When he dated Jenna in high school, the hopeless romantic in him dreamed of their little family and the future they would build together. He was devastated when they went their separate ways, thanks to their very different paths in life. He gave up on his dream of their little ones, until they crossed paths again. He knew he would be a fool to give up his second chance. He was overjoyed to learn that Jenna was pregnant with their first child; unlike the first two dads, he had no fears in the back of his mind that he would be a good one. As soon as he stepped into his house, he turned off the rock star Niko the world sees, and became Leevi’s dad and Jenna’s husband with every ounce of his being.

They made a promise to each other: when Leevi says his first word, it’s time for baby number two. Blissfully unaware of his parents’ plan to give him a sibling, Leevi watched Rommi walk by and blurted out his first word: kissa! Within two months, they were expecting their daughter to round out their little family. Lahja Rose was born the next February, two weeks past her original due date. Her father was a little heartbroken - she was supposed to be born on his birthday, hence the name Lahja (“gift”). But he was happy to finally have his little Rose to pay tribute to his favorite film (even if people made their fair share of jokes about it). They hit their first real snag as a family when, between 6 and 11 months, Lahja lived with on/off inner ear infections. Her parents did everything they could to help relieve her pain, eventually opting for surgery to fix it. Niko was a wreck for the full five months, refusing to leave his family’s side and being more than willing to fight anyone who disrespected his decision to have privacy with his family. Niko helped Jenna through the painful process of losing what would have been their third child. They mourned, they healed, and they decided that they were at peace just having their two.

--

Olli wanted to be a dad, but he was terrified when he learned he had two on the way. Kaarina wanted to laugh at his adorkable response to the news - “count them again” - but she knew his fears were valid. She’d known this man since they were children, and his response to the news was typical of him as an anxious mess under his cool and seemingly collected personality. Her fears were the same; after all, she had no idea what changes were to come for her health. But both girls had a hold on his heart long before they were even born. Olli was willing to do anything to make Riina and the twins feel comfortable until their arrival a week before Christmas. The moment Elina was placed in his arms and he saw the way Elisabet fit in Riina’s, he wondered where those fears even belonged now.

Well... just a little more than three months later, when he was convinced he’d gotten his wife pregnant again, Olli was rightfully scared shitless. He loved his girls, but he couldn’t have three kids before the first two even celebrated their first birthday. Having narrowly dodged that nightmare, he took all the next steps to ensure that it never happened again. He was happy with his two, and so was Riina. The Matelas spend their summers at their beach home, the twins developing as much of a love for the ocean as him. They wear the best coordinated outfits - but not matching though, Olli and Riina want them to maintain their own personality outside of being twins. He’s more than happy to let them put a tiara on him and invite him to their “garden tea party” in their shared room. It was tough at first, but he soon became a master of carrying one in each arm while they felt tall and safe with him. But he can be a bit strict with them sometimes; he loves them, but he doesn’t want them to follow in his footsteps as a rock star. He knows it can be difficult and fun, but he doesn’t want his daughters to fall victim to the lifestyle. And yet, Elisabet was determined to forge her own path in music, while Elina took to the ice like Lukas and Enkka as a figure skater. There was no use in trying to stifle their dreams. Olli’s proud of his girls, and he’s always wanted them to be happy.

--

Tommi’s family came pre-started. He was introduced to Marja Oksanen, a single mom to a young son who escaped a dangerous relationship with the father of her child. She was afraid that learning about her son would drive him away, that he wouldn’t bother with a single mom if she couldn’t put their relationship first. But Tommi loved this woman already, and someday he was sure he would love her son. He had his reasons to be wary around the boy since he’d never had a father figure in his life (outside of his Uncle Niko for the year or so that Marja and Miikka lived with him and Jenna). He let Miikka accept him first, and he waited for his cue before he grew into his role as his step-dad.

He readily agreed when Marja asked him if he wanted a baby with her (or “another cub” to fit the bear theme they adopted for their family). Tommi would have been happy to have several cubs with her. But when her pregnancy with Anna left her on constant bed rest and their daughter was born a month earlier than she should have, he couldn’t put her through that stress again. Marja’s health mattered more than the thought of a large family. Besides, he was more than happy with “Baby Bear” (Miikka) and “Cub” (Anna), because despite the fact that Miikka was not his son by birth, he was his son by love. And he was willing to defend that from anyone who dares to insult their family dynamic. Tommi is a master of being a dad; his energy calms both kids down when they’re stressed or in need of some love and understanding. It’s not an uncommon sight to see him with one on either side of him as the three of them relax in his recliner. So many people know Tommi as a man with a tough exterior, who doesn’t let his emotions show, doesn’t talk much, and doesn’t garner much attention in a room. But Tommi with his children is a different person altogether. He shares a side of him that belongs to his family.

--

As the last to become a dad, Aleksi had a wealth of experience to rely on when he needed help with his son. He made the difficult decision to voluntarily become a single dad when his ex-girlfriend Laila expressed zero desire to become a mother. He endured so much stress and heartache in the process, from Laila dragging him in the media over his decision to announce the pregnancy to being banned from Noah’s birth altogether. He first laid eyes on Noah when he was just under an hour old, having only been held by the nurses who prepared him to meet his father. He spared no expense in spending two nights in the hospital with him in a suite, even when Laila had long checked out and left without saying goodbye to either of them.

He felt a twinge of shame when he accepted help from Joonas in taking care of his son. He wanted to do it by himself and prove that he could be a good dad alone. But having a village of friends behind him helped ease him into everything that fatherhood would throw at him. When Noah is diagnosed on the autism spectrum when he’s three, Aleksi immediately learns everything he can to understand his son better. He becomes his biggest defender when people try to push him out of his comfort zone, telling him that they can respect his decision to wear his noise-cancelling headphones when he needs them or they can leave both of them alone. He learns sign language to communicate with Noah whenever he goes mute and he shows solidarity when Noah stims in public. He stays out of the dating scene for years to stop a revolving door of strangers from coming around his son who is shy around new people and lives with separation anxiety from losing his mother at a young age. But Hanna Laaksonen was the perfect exception, as a child psychologist with a Master’s degree in early childhood development. The rest of his friends watched as Aleksi fell in love with her and as Noah began to call her Mom. Still, Aleksi always put Noah first, the same as he always had, and Hanna respected that fact.