#tlou
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Maybe in another life, you won’t leave me to kill the person who killed your parent.
#— ˚୨୧⋆。 eves journal#@_.gh0st._101 quoted from!#lesbian#wlw#wlw post#ellie williams#ellie tlou#dina the last of us#dina tlou#ellie and dina#tlou#tlou2#the last of us#caitlyn kiramman#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#caitvi#vi arcane#arcane vi#vi#violet arcane#vi and caitlyn#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane series#arcane smut
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The similarities ☹️
#caitlyn arcane#violet arcane#vi arcane#vi x caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman#arcane#arcane season 2#the last of us#tlou2#tlou#wlw#dina tlou#ellie tlou#ellie williams#caitvi#ellie x dina#elliedina#angst
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I love that this was created before part 2 came out. So this artist still had hope for Joel and Ellie's relationship. I like to hold this as a separate universe where nothing bad ever happened.
after & twenty-something Ellie be back later, old man.
#the last of us remastered#last of us#tlou#tlou fanart#joel miller#ellie williams#joel & ellie#video game
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I fear she’s about to simultaneously pull an Abby Anderson AND an Ellie Williams
#caitlyn kiramman#arcane#caitvi#caitlyn arcane#ellie williams#abby anderson#tlou#caitlyn get behind me#but at the same time you’re really pissing me off#the redemption arc BETTER be good#bc you’re making me look bad
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#ellie williams#tlou#the last of us#tlou part 2#tlou 2#tlou2#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#the last of us part 2#tlou ellie#ellie williams the last of us#photomode#ps5#lesbian#wlw#ellie williams x female reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams tlou#tlou photomode#ellie x fem reader#ellie x y/n#ellie x you#ellie williams pictures#ellie x dina#virtual photography#lightroom
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I’ll Say, Will You Marry Me?
Joel Miller x F!reader.
A/n: Okay never did I think that after I posted my first fic that people would like it as much as you did. I honestly wrote the first part as a one shot and I had no intention on writing another part but I am so glad that you all have enjoyed it so much that you requested a part 2. SO HERE IT IS!
Word count: 3k+
Warnings: 18+, SMUT, fluff, pure bliss, and these two being stupidly In love.
|Part One Here| |Series Masterlist|
August 23, 2008.
Joel grabbed the last box from the moving truck, walking up the hot pavement and entering the home.
Placing the last box in Joel’s bedroom; a part of you felt like this was a dream, you were dating your best friend and now you living with him?
It felt to good to be true. The most loving and caring man you were once just friends, who now you’ll kiss goodnight.
“Who’s up for some good ol’ hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner?” Joel asked both you and sarah.
“Fine by me, dad!” She yelled from the staircase, on her way to her bedroom.
Joel turning his focus on you now.
“I’ll help you.” On your way to the kitchen to grab the hamburgers and hotdogs.
Joel stood at the back door for a few seconds more, admiring the woman he loved, before he even knew he’d loved her.
And god was he ecstatic to know that he’d get to wake up with you next to him.
-
After eating dinner outside, you, Joel, and Sarah cleaned everything up.
When done with that, Sarah suggested that there should be a ‘Miller movie night’.
Cuddled up with Joel and Sarah under a plaid blanket, watching “Twilight”, which Joel asked manny questions about.
“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s how old?!” He asked Sarah.
“He’s 104.” She says, eyes remaining on the tv.
“Oh.. so he’s just going after a seventeen year old like thats perfectly okay?” He spoke looking at you and Sarah, seeing both of you hysterically laughing at him.
“What? Why are you guys laughing??” He says sitting up.
-
An hour into the movie, Sarah was passed out. You grabbed the remote off the table and pressed the red button, the room went black.
Joel moving the blanket off of Sarah before picking her up and carrying her to bed.
Folding the blanket and placing it in the basket next to the tv stand.
Walking up the stairs to Joel’s bedroom, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt you had stole from him and pulling on black pajama pants before finding joel in the ensuite bathroom.
Bare chest and gray pajama pants, brushing his teeth. Coming up behind him and resting your cheek on his back.
“What’s wrong baby?” Running his toothbrush under the facet water before putting the protective cap over the bristles and setting it in the holder.
“Nothing, I’ve just never been this happy.” Laying a kiss on his shoulder.
You catch his smile through the mirror before he’s turning and throwing you over his shoulder.
There’s hushed laughs released from both of you.
He sets you on the bed, leaning down to capture your soft lips in his.
Your legs find themselves around his waist as your hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.
“Can I take this off.?” He tugged at the bottom of your shirt.
“Yes.” Helping him take off your shirt, the shirt being tossed somewhere in the room.
He unclasps your bra.
He pressed a trail of hot, soft kisses to your neck, his mouth tracing over your skin and down as his mouth finds your nipple.
You moan softly as his lips meet your midriff, his tongue swirls around your skin, making you squirm in desire and need.
Joel briefly removes his lips from your midriff with a ‘pop���, a string of saliva had been left, but quickly broke when your back arched; urging for Joel to continue.
Joel’s warm hands wander down, inching closer to your heated core, you’re getting wetter by the second.
Your hands scamper around, finding solace in Joel’s hair whilst he spreads your folds through your panties. His finger slowly, rubbing up and down. You gasp at the contact.
He continues to rub circles onto your clit, sometimes back and forth — almost tauntingly.
“Honey…Please don’t tease me,” you muttered weakly, getting lost in the near pleasure he gives you.
The chuckle Joel lets out is dark, a contrast to the soft airy kisses he rested upon your plump lips.
“What’d I tell you about patience, darlin’?” Joel murmurs against your pouting lips, he kisses you again, but there’s more force behind it. Your teeth clatter against his as his fingers pick up their pace.
Joel groans as you tug on his brunette tufts of hair. Joel then inserts two lengthy digits into your hole, making you cry out. To who exactly? You’re not even sure. You can’t be, not when his beard scratches your face just right, and his fingers model a ‘come hither’ motion inside of you.
Joel nips your lips before lowering his head to your pussy. He wastes no time in absolutely devouring you. You lay your hands on his shoulders, almost trying to get him closer.
He’s licking and sucking everywhere, all you can do is mewl out to him, letting out several ‘fuck, Joel!’s and even a ‘it feels so good!’.
His nose bumps your clit as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. “H-holy shit Joel! Right there baby!” You exclaim, voice cracking due to the strain.
You tightly wrap your thighs around his head, nearly suffocating him; just the way he likes it. “Baby..Baby! I’m-I’m so…” Your voice gives out, reducing to nothing but a whimper. Joel can tell you’re close.
He then pops back up from your legs, beaming at you proudly as you’re spread out for him.
You whine due to the lack of contact, Joel bends a bit to kiss your shoulder.
“Awe,” he drags out, “Don’t worry, peaches. Y’know I’m gonna take care of ya.” His southern drawl makes you ache for him.
Joel’s hands push down his pants painfully slow, he’s toying with you on purpose, but you love every second.
His thumb hooks around his boxers, allowing him to remove his sweatpants alongside them in one go.
Seeing him completely bare takes away the cold you feel due to the slight chill of the room. He’s breathtaking, you don’t know how else to describe it.
“Yeah? You think so honey?” His grin is nothing short of a cheshire.
You gape at him, not realizing that you actually said that out loud, but before you can think about it too much, Joel’s sliding his pink tip against your folds.
Your chest is heaving, you’re antsy and Joel finds it delicious.
“Y’ready peach?”
“Always.” You reassure with a slight nod.
Then, Joel pushes his cock into you, you swear you can count every inch entering you.
He pulls out almost entirely, then slams back into you. A choked gasp leaves your throat while Joel starts to find his pace.
Your nails find their place on Joel’s back, scratching deeply in satisfaction.
“Y-Yeah..That’s it darlin’. Squeeze me just like that.” Joel manages to groan through his gritted teeth.
His hips slap against yours, and you both are chest-to-chest. He can feel your breasts bounce up and down against him due to the force, and it nearly makes his mouth water.
Joel reaches his hand up, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, murmuring, “You’re s’pretty, baby.”
“Ha-ah. I’m cumming, Joel!” Your voice remains somewhat hushed, but you can’t help but get louder as you get closer and closer.
“C’mon, peach. Joel’s gotcha, go ahead ‘n give it t’me.” Joel moans at the feeling of you clenching oh so sweetly around him.
Your back arches off the bed, Joel’s arms wrap around your frame to hold you, as you find your release.
You continue to squeeze Joel’s cock as you come down from your high, and you feel him twitch inside of you, signaling to you that he’s close as well.
His head rests in the crook of your shoulder, making it more than easy to whisper to him, “Cum for me baby.”
You feel spurts of his warm seed shoot inside of you as Joel lets out an earth-shattering groan.
He lays on you for a few minutes, regaining his bearings, before flipping down onto the bed next to you.
“You’re incredible, y’know that?” Joel slurs, moving his head slightly so he can get a good look at you. You’re both disheveled and sweaty, chests rising then falling just as quickly.
“So I’ve heard.” You smirk at him cockily, making him chuckle and shake his head playfully.
“Mhm…Let’s get you cleaned up, peach.” He kisses you again then picks you up bridal style, you giggle and hold onto him tightly as he walks you to the bathroom.
December 30, 2009.
“And you’re okay with this.?” Joel was at the edge of his seat fidgeting with the black ring box, it was important to ask Sarah for her permission about proposing to you.
Sarah was Joel’s first priority, he’d never want Sarah to be uncomfortable or unhappy in her own space.
“Dad, you know I love her like how I love you. I’m 100% okay with you asking her to marry you.” She grabs at her father’s hand.
“Plus It’d be nice to have another girl in this house.” She pokes her dad before giggling.
“I’m glad to hear that baby girl.” He pulls his chair closer to hers, engulfing his daughter into a tight embrace.
June 22, 2010.
You and Joel had been dating for 2 years and you couldn’t be anymore happier than you are now.
Your nights in the Miller residence always consisted with either a movie night in the living room, or playing board games before bed.
Tonight consisted of a certain Miller taking you to a fancy restaurant. Joel had told you earlier that morning that Tommy had offered to watch Sarah so that you two could have a nice dinner by yourselves.
.. Without hearing about a classmate who throws pencils across the classroom and is rude to their teacher.
You had gotten home before Joel so you decided to start getting dressed, you wanted time to be able to do your hair and finalize your outfit without feeling rushed.
You and Joel had waited for a reservation at this restaurant for months and you two weren’t gonna be late either.
After picking out a white floral sundress and doing your hair and makeup, you head downstairs to hangout with Sarah as you wait on Joel and Tommy.
30 minutes later Joel was walking through the front door in a new pair of jeans and a white short-sleeve linen button up and a bouquet of flowers.
Followed by the young miller brother who was the babysitter of the night.
“Hey darlin’.” he greeted you with a small smile.
You stand up to meet him halfway, taking ahold of the bouquet.
“Joel these are beautiful!” He smiled, shrugging one shoulder of dismissal of your thanks.
“I knew you said something about these flowers not too long ago, saw a guy selling them near a site I was working at. Couldn’t help but think of you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you so much, Joel Miller.” You smile, before walking to the kitchen and looking for a vase.
Placing the flowers into the vase that now sat of the dining room table, walking back to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.
“You look beautiful.” He murmured to you, brushing his down your arm as he glanced at the dress you had on.
You’d picked it out for this occasion, the soft white material making you feel soft and beautiful.
“Thank you! You clean up nice too..” you giggled at your tease, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek before taking his hand into yours. You were eager to get to the restaurant; you’d been waiting to try this particular place for ages and finally you had got a reservation."
Before leaving the comfort of your home, you said goodbye to both Sarah and Tommy.
“Don’t do anything irresponsible.” You pointed at Tommy. “I know you’re 26 years old but still, I’d like to come home to the house in one piece.” Before pulling him into a hug.
“Sarah, please watch uncle Tommy.” Sarah laughs at your comment about her uncle.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior!” She giggled and pulled you into a small hug.
Walking over to Joel, who’s stood at the front door.
Sarah runs over to her dad before capturing him is a tight embrace.
“Bye dad, have fun!” She said as he moved her curls behind her ear.
“I will babygirl, be on your best behavior for uncle Tommy, okay? Patting her head.
“Okay dad!” He kissed her cheek and you and Joel walked out the house.
You walked to the passenger side of Joel truck, before Joel approached you, watching as he reached down to open the passenger door for you and held it open, standing back for you to get inside.
“Well thank you.” He grinned, smiling as you got in.
“No problem darlin'. ” softly closing the truck door, walking around the baby blue truck and hoping into the driver side.
The truck engine lightly roaring as Joel started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Soft music plays as you turn the corner and enter the main road.
-
The restaurant is elegant, with dim lighting that casts a romantic glow over the patrons. Soft jazz plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance
“Name under the reservation.?” The young blonde asked Joel.
“Uh, Joel Miller.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. Which was a nervous tic for Joel that you’d picked up on over the years.
“If you want to follow me this way, I can take you straight to your table.” She grabbed two menus and a specials menu before walking you two outside.
“Ladies first.” He motioned in front of him.
“Such a gentleman Joel miller.” Smiling softly before quickly grabbing at his hand and pulling him behind you.
Sitting down at much fancier tables than the one you and Joel had in your dining room. Beautiful black and gold menus with intricate letters, placed neatly on the table beside the spoon, knife and forks wrapped in nice fabric.
"Can I get you guys something to start with? drinks? maybe an appetizer?"
"I'll have a glass of red wine." the young waitress quickly wrote your drink down on her note pad.
"ill have a glass of water.. oh and can I have a lemon on the side?" Joel anxiously tapping his fingers on fabric covers wood.
"yeah, of course. I'll be right out with your drinks!"
“I heard they have really good steak.” he quirked his eyebrow.
“You’re gonna turn into a steak.” laughing a little too loud for this kinda restaurant, not before looking around to see if anyone was looking at you like you had two heads.
The young waitress, Brooke, which you had read from her name tag, came back with the three drinks.
“Thank you.” the both of you said reaching for the drinks.
“Are you guys ready to order, or do you need more time to think?” it was almost telepathically telling Joel that you were ready to order if he was.
“Yeah, we’re ready to order.” both telling her what you’d want off the menu.
“I'll have the steak, medium rare, with broccoli and mash potatoes.” he says as he hands the menu to the waitress.
“I'll have grilled chicken with mushrooms, and broccoli and mashed potatoes, please.” following what Joel did, and handing her the menu.
“Alright. I’ll get those right out for you both.” Joel watches as the waitress leaves, his gaze returning back to the woman sitting in front of him.
“What are you looking at?” you tease.
“What, can’t a man take a moment to admire how beautiful his girlfriend and best friend looks?”
“Joel Miller, you're a very cheesy man.”
-
After placing the order for the food, conversation engulfed the both of you.
Twenty minutes flew by and food was finally on its way to your table.
The waitress placed the meals in front of you, and waved down another waitress to refill your wine glasses.
The both of you half way done your food, feeling too to finish what was left on your plates.
“Joel this was really nice, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this.”
“Well I'm glad you had a good time, my peach!” reaching for your hand from across the table.
“I got one more thing to show you tonight.” he grinned
“Oh yeah?” You watched as he flagged down the waitress for the check.
After Paying the check, you and Joel walked down what Texans called the ‘Texas boardwalk’, down to the sand to watch the sunset.
You two sat down on the soft but grainy sand, listening to the waves crash together, in blissful peace.
“I feel the happiest I’ve ever been.” Looking at the man beside you.
“That’s weird because.. I was just about to say the same thing.” His chocolate brown eyes are finally finding yours.
“Yeah, that’s so strange? It’s like we’re meant to be or something??” Letting a soft giggle out.
“I want to show you something.” Before even realizing what he said, he was standing up somewhat quickly (old man lol) and grabbing your hand to pull you up with him.
“Of course!” He was pulling you along, whatever it was he was bursting with excitement.
“Joel, baby slow down, whatever it is you want to show me will still be there in a few minutes.” You laugh at his eagerness.
“Sorry. Sorry, I’m just really excited to show you.” He slowed down a little bit and you were still kinda jogging.
“Okay we’re almost there but I need to blindfold you.?” He said nervously.
“Okay.?” Closing your eyes as the cold feeling of the blindfold covered your eyes.
Joel grabbed both of your hands to guide you to wherever he was taking you.
“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing ahold of where he tied the blindfold.
“Yes?” He slowly pulled on the blindfold. The millions of candles were making it hard to focus on the big sign that said ‘will you marry me’.
There was Tommy and Sarah standing by the sign smiling all bright.
“You two!” You laughed pointing at them.
You walked closer, the word on the sign finally clicking.
“Are you being serious??” Shocked was the only emotion you had right now.
“Yes baby.” He smiled, getting down on one knee.
“Oh my.” Tears were forming, hands were shaking, your emotions were everywhere.
“Peach, ever since I’ve known you, you have always been the light to my darkness. You were there to help me with Sarah, you were there when I could barely keep the light on, you have been my rock for all of these years. Two years ago when we decided to take our relationship to the next level and start dating was one of the best days of my life. Not much changed, and I think that’s what amazes me everyday. So I’m asking, will you marry me, peach?” He said as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, before opening the box and pulling out the ring.
“Yes, Joel miller I will marry you.” Tears are falling down your face as you hold your ring finger out, while he slides it on.
Not before he quickly gets up and picks you up, spinning around before pulling you into a kiss.
Joel slowly places you down as Sarah comes over and wraps her hands around both of you.
“I’m so happy for you guys!” She said tears softly falling down her cheeks.
“Thank you babygirl.” You said as you rubbed her back to comfort her.
Tommy walked over to embrace his older brother in celebration.
“Congrats brother, you're finally getting married!” He said, patting his big brother in the back.
“Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and Sarah helping me set this all up.” He smiled at his younger brother.
“Anytime.” Smiling at his brother. “Go back to your kid and your fiancée, I’m gonna load this stuff up in the truck.”
“Alright, holler if you need help!” Joel yelled towards Tommy.
-
After helping Tommy load the stuff in the back of his truck, the rest of the miller family headed home.
You, Joel and Sarah hooped into your pajamas and watch a new movie on the couch.
You cuddled up against Joel and Sarah cuddled up against you.
“Im so happy that I’m gonna be able to marry you.” You said in a hushed tone.
“Weird, I was just about to say the same thing.” He smiled.
And before you all knew it, the whole miller family was peaceful asleep on the couch.
#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#tlou#sarah miller#tommy miller#no outbreak!joel miller#no outbreak au#hbo the last of us#joel the last of us#joel miller x y/n#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#you're my best friend series#love4pascal
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I’d follow an AU show/game/ln of this
ellie as knight.
#ellie#ellie williams#ellie tlou#the last of us#tlou#tloufanart#ellie the last of us#the last of us fanart#ellie fanart#tlou fanart
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Off The Ice
HOCKEY PLAYER ABBY X JOURNALIST READER
MINORS and MEN DNI / Word count: 9.9k words
SUMMARY: You were tasked with covering your university’s women’s hockey team, you see it as your chance to prove yourself worthy of becoming the next chief editor. Your main focus is Abby Anderson, the team’s star forward known for her cold, distant reputation. After observing her a few times, you’re surprised when she starts to warm up to you—unveiling a side of her no one else seems to see.
WARNINGS: scissoring, eating out, fingering (both a and r receiving and giving). I would say this is kind of a fluff with smut TT.
A/N: this is my early Christmas present tee hee.. I went on a bit of a whim writing this… SMUT WITH PLOT or PLOT WITH SMUT WTV (please let me know if I miss any warnings!)
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
The newsroom is buzzing with the usual chaos of deadlines and last-minute assignments. You’re sitting at your desk, scrolling through your laptop when your editor, Dina, stands by the door, holding a clipboard with the next round of assignments.
“Alright, people, we’ve got some big matches coming up,” she says, her eyes scanning the room. “I need someone to cover the women’s hockey team. We’ve got scouts coming to the next game, so make sure it’s more than just a game recap. I want a real story, got it?”
You glance up, the opportunity immediately catching your attention. The women’s team has been making waves lately, and Abby Anderson, the star forward, has been all anyone’s talking about. Known for her ruthless play and icy demeanor, she’s a force on the ice but practically a ghost off it. No one has really gotten the chance to uncover what makes her tick.
“I’ll do it,” you say, raising your hand before anyone else can speak up.
Dina looks at you, surprised. “You sure? It’s a tough one. A lot of pressure to get a unique angle.”
“I think I’ve got a good angle,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I want to write about the team, but also about her. There’s more to Abby than just her game stats.”
Dina raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Alright, you’ve got the job. But make it count.”
As she walks away, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. This could be your shot at making your mark—and maybe even getting that chief editor position. You grab your notebook, already mentally outlining your approach. The real challenge, though, won’t be writing the story—it’ll be getting past Abby’s walls.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
A few weeks later, you're sitting in the stands of the rink, notebook in hand, watching the women’s hockey team practice. The cold air cuts through the arena, but you're too focused on your task to notice.
Abby Anderson moves like a storm on the ice. Her swift, powerful strides cut through the rink with precision, her eyes locked on the puck, her focus unbreakable. She’s the kind of player who makes it look easy, but you know there’s more to it than that.
You’ve been attending practices for days now, trying to catch glimpses of Abby when she’s not in game mode. But so far, she’s kept her distance. She’s all business, all the time, barking orders at her teammates and keeping her interactions brief. If anyone speaks to her off the ice, it's either short and to the point or completely ignored. You’ve yet to get more than a few sentences out of her.
You jot down a few notes, trying to focus on the team’s dynamics, but your eyes keep drifting back to Abby. She's skating alone now, practicing shots at the net, her intense movements betraying any hint of vulnerability. You wonder if she ever lets anyone see that side of her—the one that's not all about hockey, about being the best.
“Hey.”
You jump, startled, and look up to find Abby standing next to the railing, her skates still on, but her posture relaxed. She looks at you with an unreadable expression.
“Uh, hey,” you reply, quickly trying to gather yourself. "Just—just taking some notes. You know, for the article."
She nods, glancing at the rink before looking back at you. “How’s it going so far? Got a good story yet?”
You hesitate, unsure how much of the truth to reveal. “I’m still working on it. It’s hard to find the angle everyone’s expecting… but I think I’ll get there.”
Abby studies you for a moment, her face still as hard to read as always. “Just don’t make me sound like a robot on the ice. I know how that goes.” She smirks, her first real hint of a smile.
You can’t help but laugh, relieved. “I’ll do my best to capture the whole picture. Not just the stats.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Good. Keep it real.”
With that, she turns and heads back to the ice, leaving you standing there, heart racing slightly faster than usual. You watch her skate off, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had before. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to get past her walls.
But you also know it’s just the beginning. There's more to Abby Anderson than the game, and you’re determined to find it.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
A few days later, you’re standing in front of Abby’s dorm, the familiar nerves creeping in. The article deadline is approaching fast, and you’re still struggling to break past Abby’s walls. But today is different. After days of awkward exchanges and hesitant small talk after practice, you finally managed to convince her to sit down for a real interview.
You took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and heard the faint shuffle of movement from inside. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Abby in a casual hoodie and sweatpants, her hair pulled back in her signature braid. The intense, icy exterior you were used to wasn’t there—she looked... normal, like a regular college student.
"Hey," she said, offering a small, almost reluctant smile. "Come on in."
You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the room instantly contrast with the chilly vibe Abby often projected. The space was clean but a bit cluttered, with hockey gear tossed on one side and textbooks scattered on her desk. It felt strangely intimate like you were seeing a side of Abby no one else ever had access to.
"Sorry about the mess," Abby muttered, gesturing to the pile of equipment. "I’m usually just too tired after practice to clean."
"No worries," you said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. "Thanks for agreeing to this. I know you’re not exactly a fan of interviews."
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, instead grabbing two water bottles from a shelf and tossing one to you. "Let’s just get this over with," she said, her tone a little more playful than usual. It was as if the pressure from earlier had eased just a bit.
You smiled, grateful for her willingness. "I won’t take too much of your time. Just a few questions about... well, everything. Hockey, life. What it’s really like being Abby Anderson, off the ice."
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she considered your question. "What it's really like..." she echoed, her gaze briefly flicking to the window as if pondering the words. "You make it sound like I'm some mystery."
"Maybe you are," you said, more candidly than you expected. "No one really knows you beyond the ice. You're always the tough player who doesn't talk to anyone off the rink."
Abby’s gaze softened at your words, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she fiddled with the water bottle in her hands, turning it absently as she seemed to think about what to say. There was a quiet tension in the air, one that neither of you had expected when you first agreed to sit down.
"Yeah, I guess I come off like that, huh?" Abby finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice had a quiet edge to it, almost as if she was admitting something she hadn’t said out loud before. "I don’t really know how to be any different. It’s easier this way."
You felt a shift in the atmosphere, like she was allowing herself to be more open than she ever had before. The moment was subtle, but you couldn’t ignore it.
"I get that," you said softly, leaning forward. "But you’re more than just a hockey player, Abby. I mean, you’ve got layers—there’s got to be more to you than what we see on the ice."
Abby’s eyes met yours then, the intensity of her gaze making your heart skip a beat. For a brief second, you thought she might brush you off again, but instead, she looked almost… vulnerable.
"You think so?" she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was testing you, seeing if you’d take her seriously.
You nodded, feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t expected to feel. "Yeah, I do."
A moment of silence stretched between you, and you could feel the energy in the room shift. The playful banter had evaporated, replaced by something deeper, more intense. Abby’s eyes lingered on yours, her lips pressing together as if fighting back something unspoken. You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was as if the ice around her was finally starting to melt, and in the stillness of her dorm, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.
"I don’t usually do this," Abby said, her voice a little breathless. "Let people in, I mean."
The admission hung in the air, and you realized how rare this moment was for her. It was raw, real, and far from the icy persona she’d shown everyone else. There was no game face now, no walls.
"You don’t have to let anyone in," you replied, your voice lower now, almost without thinking. "But I’m not like everyone else, Abby."
She took a step closer, her eyes searching yours for a moment. Then, without another word, Abby’s hand reached out, brushing against yours—light at first, like she was testing the waters. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart raced as the proximity between you grew more charged, more electric.
"Are you sure about that?" she whispered, her voice shaky, unsure, but her eyes steady as she closed the space between you.
Before you could respond, Abby leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft but insistent. You could feel the toned, muscular strength in her arms as she held you, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The warmth of her body radiated against yours, the firmness of her form pressing gently but surely as her fingers slid into your hair. It was as if her whole presence surrounded you—strong, sure, yet still carrying a touch of hesitation.
The kiss deepened as Abby caressed your hair gently, her fingers threading through it with a tenderness that belied her fierce persona on the ice. It was a contrast—the hard, determined athlete and the softness of the way she touched you. The moment felt like a contradiction, one that both of you were willing to embrace.
When she finally pulled away, her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. She looked at you with wide eyes, lips slightly parted as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Her hand remained in your hair, fingers still grazing your scalp.
Abby’s hand lingered in your hair, her touch soft but steady, as though she needed a moment to ground herself. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, eyes still locked on yours, as if searching for something—answers, maybe, or reassurance that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.
"That was..." Abby’s voice trailed off, her lips curling into a small, uncertain smile. "I didn’t think you’d be... like that."
You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the kiss. "Like what?"
Abby shrugged, a little bashful for the first time since you met her. "I don’t know. I guess I just figured you’d be... different."
"Different how?" you asked, your voice quieter now, but there was a playful edge to it.
"Like... not so—" She gestured vaguely between the two of you, looking for the right words. "I don’t know. You’re not what I expected."
It was your turn to feel a little bashful. You didn’t know what to make of this sudden shift in dynamics, but there was something about Abby’s vulnerability, her uncertainty, that made you feel like maybe this—whatever this was—wasn’t just some random kiss. It felt more like a beginning.
"Maybe I’m not," you replied softly. "Maybe we’re both surprising each other."
Abby’s eyes softened at that, and she gave a slow nod. She seemed to be processing everything in silence, unsure of how to label the moment. She was still the tough, intense player on the ice, but the cracks in that persona were becoming more apparent now.
"Don’t go thinking this means I’m some open book now," Abby warned with a smirk, though there was no real bite to it. "I’m still the same Abby Anderson."
You laughed lightly, the tension easing between you two. "I never thought you were an open book."
"Good," Abby replied, her smile returning, warmer than before. She finally pulled her hand from your hair, though she kept her gaze locked on you, her lips still lingering with a hint of the kiss you’d just shared. "But maybe... just maybe... we can see where this goes."
You nodded slowly, your heart still racing, but your chest felt lighter, freer as if a new chapter was just beginning to unfold. "I’m willing to find out."
The quiet between you lingered, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Abby’s eyes softened, and for the first time, she didn’t seem like the intimidating hockey player. She was just Abby, standing in front of you, her vulnerability laid bare.
"Maybe we don’t need to talk about the article anymore," she murmured, her voice low, almost like she was thinking out loud. "Maybe we can just... be here for a bit."
Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could respond, Abby was standing up, closing the space between you. The shift in her demeanor was subtle but unmistakable. She was no longer the distant athlete; she was someone who wanted more than just the interview.
"You make it hard to stay guarded," she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands slid to your waist, gently pulling you closer. Her body was strong, and solid, but there was a softness in the way she touched you, a tenderness you hadn’t expected.
You swallowed, your pulse racing as you met her eyes. "Abby..." You couldn’t find the right words, but you didn’t need to. The air between you both was thick with the weight of what was about to happen.
Abby’s lips found yours again, more urgent this time, less like a question and more like an answer. She kissed you deeply, her hands threading into your hair as she pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours with a heat that made everything else fade away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as though she was savoring the moment. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, like she was afraid to let you go as if the distance between you both had only made her want you more.
You melted into her embrace, your hands finding their way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as if you could close the gap that had always been there between you. She groaned softly, the sound low in her throat, sending a thrill through you.
When the kiss finally broke, Abby’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. Her hands gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing across your cheeks as if memorizing the feel of you.
"I’ve been wanting this," she admitted, her voice hushed. "More than I thought I would."
You smiled, still feeling the rush of the moment. "Yeah," you whispered back. "Me too."
Abby’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. "This doesn’t change anything, right?" she asked, her voice a little uncertain.
You gently cupped her face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of her jaw as if to reassure her. "No," you said softly. "But maybe we can figure out what comes next..."
Her lips curled into a smile, and for the first time, it wasn’t guarded. It was real, and it was for you. "Yeah," she whispered, closing the distance again, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like the beginning of something neither of you was ready to define just yet, but both of you were willing to explore.
And as the kiss deepened, you realized that no matter what happened after this, you had stepped past the barrier that had once kept you both apart. Whatever came next, it was something neither of you were willing to walk away from…
She pushes you down on the couch, her body hovering above you. She stares deeply into your eyes as if she was asking for permission. You nod in response.
Abby buries her face in your neck, kissing and nipping it, making you moan in response
Abby's touch is confident and assertive, her hands roaming your body with an intensity that mirrors her personality on the ice. She knows what she wants, and she's not afraid to take it. Her fingers trace patterns on your skin, igniting sparks wherever they touch.
Her hands slid under your shirt, her fingertips trailing along your sides, feeling the soft skin beneath. You gasped at the touch, your hips bucking slightly. Abby took advantage of this, her hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss.
She broke away from your lips, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, "Can I... can we...?" She nuzzled her nose against your jaw, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "Can I take this off?”
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, and she reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head.
As your shirt hit the floor, Abby's eyes roamed over your bare chest, taking in every detail. She reached out, tracing a finger over your collarbone, down your sternum, and across your abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.
Her touch was light, reverent, as if she was worshipping your body. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and leaned down to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your chest.
You hissed in a breath at the warmth of her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair. She continued to place kisses all over your chest, her hands roaming over your curves. She paused at the waistband of your skirt, looking up at you for confirmation.
Seeing your nod, she hooked her fingers under the hem, pulling it up and off. She took a moment to appreciate what was revealed - your smooth legs, the curve of your hips, the lacy underwear that matched your bra.
Abby's hands slid up your legs, her touch leaving a path of tingling heat. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of your underwear, her eyes locked with yours. "Can I...?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper, full of need and uncertainty.
“Go ahead abby…”
With a nod and a shy smile, Abby slowly slid your underwear off, tossing it aside. She paused, her eyes taking in every inch of you, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.
She heard you suck in a breath above her, and she looked up at you with a mischievous grin. Slowly, she leaned in, her hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as she pressed her mouth to you, her tongue parting your folds.
She started slowly, exploring you, learning what you liked. Your moans filled the room, encouraging her. She slipped a finger inside you, her mouth continuing its administration. You let out a low moan, your hands fisting the couch cushion as you tried to keep yourself grounded.
She added another finger, stretching you, preparing you. Your moans grew louder, your hips moving in rhythm with her actions. Abby looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears at your beauty. She withdrew her fingers and climbed up your body, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.
You could taste yourself on her, the evidence of her ministrations. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your legs around her waist, pulling her closer. "Abby..." you whispered, your voice shaky,
"Mmm?" She murmured against your lips, grinding against you. She was still fully clothed, her pants rough against your bare skin.
"You're still dressed..." You panted, your hands reaching for the hem of her shirt. She grinned and sat up, pulling her shirt off in a swift motion. She reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside.
Her breasts bounced free, and you reached up to grasp them, squeezing and kneading them in your hands. Abby let out a pleased moan, her hands reaching for the button of her pants. She popped it open and slid the zipper down, shoving her pants and underwear down her legs.
Now Abby was completely naked, sitting astride you. You looked at her, taking in her toned stomach, her full breasts, the curve of her hips, her muscular thighs. She saw the awe in your eyes, and it made her feel powerful.
With a predatory grin, Abby lowered herself onto you. She wrapped her legs around yours, crossing her ankles behind your knees. She slowly rocked against you, her wetness rubbing against yours. You gasped at the new sensation, your hands gripping her thighs as she continued to move against you.
She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against yours as she captured your mouth in a deep kiss. She sped up her pace, her breath coming in short pants against your lips. She reached one hand down between them, her fingers finding that bundle of nerves and rubbing in time with her movements.
You cried out into the kiss, your hips bucking up to meet hers. The sensation of her rubbing against you, combined with her fingers on your clit, was too much. You felt your orgasm building, your vision blurring as Abby continued to grind against you.
"Abby... Ab... I'm... I'm..." You stuttered, your words cut off by a moan as she quickened her pace. She felt you convulse against her, your hands clutching at her back, your face buried in her neck.
She smiled to herself, pleased with the effect she was having on you. She kept scissoring against you, her own orgasm building. "Look at you," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're so… perfect.”
As she spoke, she felt her own climax approaching. She increased the pressure between her legs, rubbing herself against you with frantic intensity. With a loud cry, she came, her hips jerking against yours as her orgasm overtook her.
She collapsed on top of you, her breath hot against your neck. You ran your fingers up and down her back, feeling the dampness of her sweat. "Abby... that was..." you started, but words failed you. She just chuckled and nuzzled your neck. "I know,”
She stayed on top of you, her arms wrapped around you in a loose hug. Her fingers traced patterns on your stomach as she nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent. "Can we just…”
"...Stay like this for a while?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She nuzzled your neck again, her body pressing closer against yours. She felt content, happier than she had in a long time. She felt a connection with you, a bond forged in the heat of passion.
You nodded, not wanting to break the moment. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both lay there in silence. The only sound was the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
The next day came faster than you expected. You’d barely gotten any sleep, your mind constantly replaying everything that had happened after. But as you sat in the café near the university, waiting for Abby, your heart settled into something more focused. Today wasn’t about the sparks from the night before. Today was about the interview.
The café was quiet, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in the hum of conversation and the clink of cups and saucers. It was cozy, with warm light spilling from overhead lamps, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You had a lot on your mind, not just about Abby, but about the article and what this interview could mean for your future with the paper. If you did this right, if you got Abby to open up like she never had before, you might be able to prove yourself worthy of the next chief editor position.
A few moments later, the door to the café opened, and there she was.
Abby stepped inside, her usual confidence radiating from her as she scanned the room, her eyes locking onto you instantly. She was dressed casually—athletic but comfortable—and yet she carried herself with the same quiet intensity that made her a standout on the ice. Her gaze softened when she saw you, and the familiar spark of something more was there again, just beneath the surface.
She walked over to the table, giving you a small but genuine smile. "Hey," she greeted, taking a seat across from you. "You doing okay?"
You nodded, trying to steady yourself. "Yeah. Just a little nervous."
"Don't be," she said, her voice reassuring. "It’s just coffee, right?"
"Yeah. Just coffee," you echoed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But you know... a little more than that, too. A real interview."
Abby chuckled, glancing around the café. "Right, well, let's make it count then."
You both ordered your drinks and for a moment, there was an easy silence between you. The pressure of the moment, of what had passed between you both, seemed to be melting away, replaced by something more comfortable, natural.
Finally, you picked up your notebook and pen, getting down to business. "Alright," you began, your voice steady but a little softer than usual. "Let’s start with hockey. You’ve been the team’s top scorer for a while now. How does it feel to be in the spotlight like that?"
Abby leaned back in her chair, her eyes focused on you. "It’s... a lot of pressure. But it’s part of the job. Being in the spotlight is something you just get used to. Especially when your team depends on you."
There was a confidence in her tone, but also something more—something that suggested the weight of being the best wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. You could sense the layers beneath her tough exterior, and you knew this was where the real interview would begin.
You pushed forward, asking more questions, and letting the conversation flow. As you spoke, Abby opened up more than you expected, revealing not just her thoughts on hockey, but glimpses of who she was outside the rink. She was driven, and focused, but there was a vulnerability to her that only seemed to surface when she talked about her team, her passions, and the sacrifices she’d made to get where she was.
The interview wasn’t just about facts anymore—it was about connection. And for a moment, you forgot about the article entirely.
After a while, Abby leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the shift again. There was a quiet tension hanging between you both as if the world outside the café had faded away, and only the two of you existed in this small, intimate moment.
"You know," Abby said softly, her voice almost playful now, "you asked a lot of questions, but you haven’t told me anything about you. What made you want to write about me? About hockey?"
You blinked, taken off guard by her question. You hadn’t expected her to turn the tables. "I... guess I thought you were an interesting story. I mean, you’re kind of a mystery to everyone. The tough hockey player. The star who doesn’t talk to anyone off the ice."
Abby’s smile was small, but it felt meaningful. "I’m not really a mystery. Just... focused. You get that, right?"
You nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "Yeah, I get it."
For a long moment, you both just sat there, the sound of the café filling the silence between you. The interview was far from over, but something had changed. It wasn’t just about the article anymore. It was about something else—something you both hadn’t been ready to acknowledge yet, but it was there, lingering in the air between you.
"You know," you said after a beat, "I think this might be one of the best interviews I’ve done."
Abby’s gaze softened. "Glad I could make it interesting," she said, her voice quiet but warm.
And as you sat there, talking about everything and nothing, you realized that what had started as a simple interview had turned into something else entirely. A new chapter, one you weren’t sure how to write, but were willing to explore.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
The final game of the season was just days away, and the energy around campus was electric. You could feel the anticipation building with every passing hour. The women’s hockey team had worked tirelessly all season, and now, the championship was within reach. For Abby and the rest of the team, it was the culmination of all their hard work. For you, it was the final stretch to prove you could handle the pressure of being the next chief editor of the school paper.
You’d passed the draft of your interview to Dina, the current editor-in-chief, and she had loved it. The words flowed smoothly, and she could sense the connection between you and Abby without you having to spell it out. That feedback had given you the confidence to continue pushing forward, not just for the article, but for everything you had on the line.
But the days leading up to the final game felt like a whirlwind. You and Abby were both consumed with your responsibilities—her with the team’s last-minute practices and preparation, you with your final edits and deadlines. It wasn’t the ideal time for the two of you to reconnect, but you knew that after the game, everything would settle, and maybe you could find out what this—whatever it was—meant.
You found yourself in the quiet corner of the student lounge, typing away on your laptop, trying to finish your article before the big game. Your mind kept wandering back to Abby, though—how her smile lingered after the interview, how she’d looked at you across the café that day, like there was something more she wanted to say but couldn’t.
You hadn’t had time to talk since that day, and now, with the pressure mounting on both sides, you weren’t sure when you’d get the chance to sit down with her again.
The door to the lounge opened, and you didn’t look up right away, assuming it was just another student coming in for a late-night study session. But then, a familiar voice broke through your concentration.
"Hey, you."
You froze, the sound of Abby’s voice sending a familiar rush through your chest. When you looked up, you found her standing there, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her long hair tied back in a messy bun. She looked exhausted, but there was a spark in her eyes.
"Abby?" you asked, surprised but a little relieved to see her. You hadn’t expected her to stop by.
"Yeah," she said with a small grin, taking a step closer. "I, uh, figured we should talk before the big day. We’ve both been too busy, haven’t we?"
You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. "Yeah, it’s been crazy. I’ve barely had time to breathe with everything going on."
"I get that," she said, her eyes softening. "But I wanted to check in with you. How’s the article coming along? You’re going to be on top of the world when they publish it, you know that, right?"
A warmth spread through you at her words. "It’s... going well," you said, trying to hide the excitement in your voice. "I think Dina liked the draft. She said it’s one of the best interviews she’s read in a while."
Abby raised an eyebrow, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "I’m glad to hear that." She leaned against the table, her tone turning more playful. "But you better not make me look too good. I don’t want to get all cocky before the game."
You laughed softly, the familiar spark between you two returning. "I think I can keep it balanced."
Abby’s smile faded just slightly as she looked at you more seriously. "Listen, about... what happened before. I know we’ve both been busy, but I just wanted to say... I don’t regret it. Us, I mean." She paused, her gaze softening. "I guess I’m just trying to figure out what this all means, but I don’t want to run from it, either."
Your heart skipped a beat, the tension in the air thick with unspoken words. "Me neither," you said quietly. "I don’t know what this is, but I’m willing to see where it goes. After the game, maybe we can talk more."
Abby nodded, a small, genuine smile returning to her face. "Yeah. We’ll figure it out." She glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at you. "I should go, get some rest. Big game tomorrow, right?"
You nodded, feeling that familiar pang of disappointment that she had to leave so soon. "Yeah. Good luck, Abby."
She paused at the door, turning back to face you. "Thanks. And... I’ll see you there," she said with a wink before she disappeared into the night.
As you sat back in your chair, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite everything—despite the pressure of the article, the looming championship game, and the uncertainty about what you and Abby were becoming—you couldn’t deny the excitement buzzing in your chest. Tomorrow was the big day, and whatever came after, you knew you’d both be ready.
The final game had arrived, and the energy around campus was palpable. The buzz in the air was electric, with every student and faculty member talking about the championship match. You could feel the weight of the moment—this wasn’t just any game. For Abby and the team, it was the culmination of months of grueling practice, sacrifices, and determination. And for you, it was the finish line for your article—and maybe something more.
You had finalized your piece, and after getting Dina’s approval earlier that morning, there was nothing left to do but wait for the game to unfold. But as you stood at the rink, the sense of anticipation made it hard to focus on anything else. You watched as the team prepared, Abby at the forefront, looking every bit the fierce competitor you had come to admire.
Her movements were fluid, and powerful, slicing through the ice like she owned it. You found yourself drawn to her, to the way she held herself—confidence in every stride, but you could also sense something else, something beneath the surface. And though you tried to concentrate on taking notes for the article, every so often, you’d glance at her, catching her eye.
You were almost caught up in the rhythm of the game when the buzzer sounded, signaling the start. The intensity was immediate, the tension tangible in the arena. The crowd’s roars filled your ears, the game beginning in a blur of motion. You scribbled down observations, the action on the ice more chaotic than you had anticipated. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the game itself. Every move felt crucial, and Abby was right in the middle of it all, controlling the pace with every turn.
But it wasn’t just the game that had your attention. It was the way Abby played—how she seemed to be everywhere at once, her energy contagious, urging her teammates forward. She was the center of it all, and you couldn’t help but admire how she took charge, and how her presence seemed to push the team toward victory. She was sharp, a calculated force on the ice.
And then it happened.
Abby made an interception, gliding effortlessly past the defense. At that moment, time seemed to stretch out, the entire arena holding its breath as she lined up for a shot. Her eyes focused, and in one smooth motion, the puck flew off her stick and toward the net. The sound of the puck hitting the post rang out, but Abby wasn’t done. She was already there, crashing the net, securing the rebound, and slamming it in. The crowd erupted.
Your heart raced, the realization dawning on you that her goal had put them ahead—and it was the winning goal.
The game continued, but the tide had turned. With seconds on the clock, the buzzer sounded, and Abby’s team celebrated their victory. You stood in the middle of the crowd, still processing the intensity of it all. Abby had led them to victory, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her.
You waited near the locker room, hoping to catch Abby after the game. You hadn’t been able to keep up with the excitement of the game completely, but you had seen enough to know this was her moment. The sound of the locker room doors opening echoed in your ears, and you spotted her almost immediately.
Abby stood out from the others, her usual focused demeanor softened by the thrill of the win. She was still in her gear, her face flushed from the game, but there was a lightness about her that hadn’t been there before.
"That was incredible," you said, your words a little breathless from the adrenaline of the game still coursing through you.
She looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It was a team effort," she replied, but you could see the pride in her eyes. "Still, I’m glad you were here to see it."
You smiled, taking a step closer. "You’ve earned it," you said quietly, meeting her gaze, trying to find the right words. "I’m proud of you."
Abby’s expression softened, her usual confident exterior cracking just a little. She leaned in slightly as if weighing her words carefully. "Thanks," she said, voice lower than before. There was a moment of silence between you two, the noise of the locker room buzzing faintly in the background.
For a second, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. Abby’s eyes never left yours, a quiet understanding passing between you. There was no need for words, not now. The game, the season, the article—it all seemed to fade as you stood there, caught between the rush of the moment and the realization that this wasn’t just about hockey anymore.
As the team continued their celebration around you, Abby’s hand brushed against yours, a subtle connection that sent a jolt through you. She gave you a small nod before walking toward the rest of her team, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing from the game—and from everything that was unfolding between you and her.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
he newsroom was alive with a flurry of activity, papers scattered everywhere as the final touches were being put on the issue. The clock ticked toward 8 PM, and you were sitting at your desk, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy. The article was done. Your piece on Abby, her journey to the championship, and the thrilling game had come together perfectly. The highlight of the issue, the one everyone was talking about. It felt like the culmination of everything—your hard work, your ambition, and the connection you had built with Abby.
As the editors rushed past, congratulating you on how well the article turned out, you couldn't help but smile. A few of them had asked you how you’d managed to make Abby open up, some even teasing you about her sudden warmth toward you. "Did you sweet-talk her?" one of the writers joked. "She’s been ice-cold with everyone else!" You just shrugged, your mind drifting to her last words to you after the game. "Just doing my job."
But as the energy in the newsroom built to a crescendo, Dina appeared in front of you, leaning in with a grin. "I think you just earned the spot as the next editor in chief," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the buzz of the room.
Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked, not sure if you’d heard her right. "Wait, what?" you asked, feeling a flush of disbelief and excitement rise in your chest.
Dina chuckled softly. "You’ve earned it. You’ve got the article everyone’s been talking about, and you’ve proven you’ve got the skills. I’m officially putting your name in for the position." Her eyes twinkled with approval as she walked off, leaving you stunned, your breath caught in your throat. This was it. This was everything you’d worked for.
As the evening wore on, the final issue of the paper was ready to go to print, and it was only a matter of time before it would be released at midnight. You stayed in the newsroom, helping with last-minute preparations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby. What she’d said, what she meant to you now, and how the chemistry between you had grown in such a short time.
In the midst of the excitement, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. The message on your screen made your heart race.
Abby 🏒: Hey, where are you?
Abby 🏒: I’m still at the party btw
Abby 🏒: I want to see you.
You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips as you typed your response, the warmth from her text a stark contrast to the cool air in the newsroom.
You: I’m at the paper, finishing things up. I’ll be there soon❤️
You felt a little giddy, your heart racing with anticipation. After everything, the article, the win, the promotion—it felt like the perfect moment to see her again, to see where everything between you would go.
As the clock ticked toward midnight, you closed your laptop, the rush of excitement bubbling up inside you. The paper would be published, and your future as editor-in-chief seemed all but certain. But as you left the newsroom, your mind was on Abby—and the night ahead.
As you turned the corner, the soft hum of the campus night air accompanied your steps. The excitement of the newsroom buzzed in your veins, but everything seemed to quiet when you saw her waiting for you.
Abby was leaning casually against the wall, a small smile tugging at her lips as she waited, the blue jersey she wore a bold contrast against the dimly lit hallway. It was the same one her teammates all wore, emblazoned with your university’s logo—proud and unmistakable. But even in something as simple as a jersey, there was still that undeniable pull to her presence.
You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you walked toward her. "You didn’t have to wait for me," you teased softly, though you were secretly glad she had.
Abby pushed off from the wall, stepping closer. "I wanted to. Besides, I promised I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?" Her voice was playful, but there was something softer in her gaze, something more sincere.
You nodded, the air between you light and easy, but still charged with that undercurrent of something more. "You did," you agreed. "And, uh, I actually have something to show you." You pulled out your phone, tapping through the screens until you found the article you’d written.
Abby raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the screen. "No way," she said, her lips curling up slightly. "You actually made me sound like a good person."
You laughed, but there was a warmth spreading in your chest. "I didn’t just make you sound like a good person, I made you sound amazing." You swiped down, showing her the headline: "Abby Anderson: The Heart of the Winning Team." The words felt just as true as when you’d written them.
She studied the screen for a moment, her fingers brushing lightly against the phone. "I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to get me to open up like this," she said, her voice quiet, almost thoughtful. "But you did. So, thanks."
Your heart raced at her words. The sincerity in her voice made everything feel more real, like something was shifting between you two.
Abby looked at you, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer than usual, before the silence stretched. The sounds of the party down the hall faded in the background, the moment between you two feeling more significant than any celebration.
"You wanna head back to the party?" you asked, breaking the silence, though neither of you moved immediately
She shook her head, her hand brushed against yours. She paused, her fingers lingering against your wrist, a soft smile on her lips.
"I think," she started, her voice low and steady, "I’d rather be alone with you right now."
Your heart skipped a beat, her words making everything feel just a little more intimate. The noise from the party down the hall seemed to fade away, the energy shifting in an instant.
"You sure?" you asked, your voice a little quieter now, as the anticipation between you two hung thick in the air.
Abby nodded, her eyes meeting yours, full of something unspoken. "Yeah. I’d rather spend some time with you... just us."
She gave your hand a gentle squeeze before she led you away from the noise, down the hallway, and toward her dorm room. The walk felt longer than it was, but it gave you time to let the anticipation build. Abby’s steps were confident, but there was a softness in the way she held your hand, something that made your chest flutter.
When you reached her dorm, Abby opened the door, stepping aside to let you in. The room was cozy, nothing extravagant, you took in the familiar feeling. It felt like a place where she could truly be herself. The familiar blue jersey she wore still clung to her frame, a symbol of her strength on the ice. But now, in the quiet of the room, she seemed different—less guarded, more present.
She tossed herself on her bed and pulled you in with her, planting kisses on you.
The sudden pull caught you off guard, and you laughed softly as you fell beside her. Abby's arms wrapped around you, her strength both reassuring and gentle. Her kisses were warm, pressing against your skin with an intensity that made everything else fade away. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the sound of your breathing.
Abby paused, her forehead resting against yours as she caught her breath, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You met her gaze, a smile curving your lips as you traced the line of her jaw with your fingers, feeling the tension melt away under your touch.
“You okay?” she whispered, her voice husky and low, a tender contrast to the fierce athlete everyone else knew.
You nodded, your fingers threading through her hair. “More than okay,” you murmured, pressing your lips to hers again. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, as if both of you were savoring the rare moment of peace away from the chaos of the rink and the noise of the world outside.
Abby shifted, pulling you even closer, her embrace tightening around you as if she wanted to make sure this moment stayed real. The scent of her, the warmth radiating from her body, made your heart race.
You sit up and move on top of her, her gaze softening as you did. “I think… you deserve a reward for your excellent performance at the game. don’t you think?”
Abby’s eyes widened slightly at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She let out a breathy laugh, her hands finding their place on your hips as she looked up at you, a mix of amusement and anticipation in her gaze.
“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Is that so?”
You leaned down, your lips barely brushing hers as you whispered, “Absolutely.” The playful tone sent a shiver through her, and you felt her fingers tighten their hold, drawing you closer.
Abby’s gaze softened, the fierce determination she carried on the ice replaced by an openness that was reserved for moments like this—moments just between the two of you. The space between you seemed to shrink as she tilted her head to meet your lips again, her kiss more insistent, filled with a new kind of energy that made your pulse quicken.
She sighed against your mouth, the sound sending warmth rushing through you. Her hands traveled up your back, pulling you down until there was barely any distance left. The room, once filled with quiet, seemed to pulse with the shared heartbeat between you.
“Best reward ever,” Abby whispered, a grin breaking through before she kissed you again, deeper this time as if she couldn’t get enough.
Pulling away from the kiss, you start to unbutton your shirt, watching her gaze on you.
She bit her lip, her eyes never leaving yours as you began to unbutton your shirt. She felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached up, helping you remove the shirt, her fingers brushing against your skin. "You're so…”
"...beautiful," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached out, tracing a finger along the edge of your collarbone, feeling the warmth of your skin. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the spot she had just touched, before moving on to kiss the sensitive skin just below your jaw.
She trailed her kisses down your neck, her lips lingering on your pulse point. She could feel your heartbeat fluttering beneath her mouth, quickening with each touch. "I want you," she murmured against your skin, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips.
She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she pulled back slightly. "You're right, I got a little carried away," she said with a playful grin. She settled back, watching you with hooded eyes, her hands resting on your thighs.“Ah! Not so fast Abigail. I’m the one who’s giving you this reward remember?”
You help her remove her jersey, and then the shirt she was wearing underneath. You trail down to her pants. As you began to unzip her pants, she lifted her hips, allowing you to slide them down along with her underwear. She lay before you, her body bare and exposed, her chest heaving with anticipation. Her eyes, filled with desire, followed your every movement as you leaned down.
She let out a soft gasp as you kissed her stomach, your lips trailing down to her hips. She wrapped her arms around your head, holding you close as you continued your path of kisses. When you reached her inner thigh, she spread her legs wider, giving you access to her most intimate area.
She moaned softly as you kissed her, the sensation overwhelming. Her hips buckled against your touch, her breathing growing heavier with each passing moment. She tangled her hands in your hair, pulling you closer as the pleasure intensified. "Please...please..." she begged, her voice barely a whisper.
She arched her back, her breath hitching as you continued to tease her with your mouth. Her legs tightened around your shoulders, her whole body tensing as the pressure built inside her. "Don't stop...please, don't stop..." she pleaded, her voice hoarse with desire.
Her eyes flew open, her mouth forming a silent 'O’ as you pushed two fingers inside her. She writhed beneath your touch, her hips bucking against your hand. "Yes...like that...please..." she moaned, her voice growing louder as the pleasure became almost too much to bear.
“Hm? You like it baby?” You hissed.
“Oh god, yes...” She panted, her body tensing as your fingers curved upwards, finding that sweet spot deep inside her. Her head fell back against the bed, her body trembling. "More...I need more..." She looked at you, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.”
You smiled, pleased with her reaction, and added a third finger, scissoring them inside her. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as the stretch and pressure became overwhelming. "Fuck...fuck fuck fuck!" She chanted, her voice echoing through the room as she struggled to breathe.
She could feel the heat building inside her, her body growing warmer and more sensitive with each passing second. Her hands grasped at the sheets beneath her, pulling them taut as the tension became unbearable. "I'm...I'm going to...please, please!" She begged, her eyes wide and desperate.
With a final thrust, you pushed your fingers deep inside her, crooking them upwards. She shattered, her body convulsing as waves of intense pleasure washed over her. She screamed your name, her voice hoarse from shouting, her body growing limp as the aftershocks subsided.
As she came down from her high, she pushed feebly at your shoulder, her body still shuddering occasionally. “My turn,” she whispered, her voice still ragged from her release. She pushed you onto your back, straddling you before you could protest.
You landed on your back with a surprised grunt, looking up at her with widened eyes. She grinned mischievously, her eyes filled with lust and determination. She slowly began to kiss her way down your chest, her hands caressing your skin.
She continued her descent, her lips leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. Without warning, she reached out and tore open your already unbuttoned shirt, the fabric ripping easily under her strength. She tossed the shirt aside and moved on to your pants, roughly pulling them down your legs along with your panties
Once she had you fully exposed, she took a moment to admire the view, her eyes hungrily roaming over your body. She licked her lips before leaning down, her hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "I'm going to make you feel so good,”
She whispered, her voice low and sultry. Before you could respond, she wrapped her hands around your thighs, pushing them apart. She leaned down and slowly, torturously, ran her tongue up your length.
She took her time exploring you with her tongue, licking and sucking at your most sensitive areas. Her hands massaged your thighs, occasionally dipping lower to tease your entrance. She worked you with skill and enthusiasm, determined to drive you wild with pleasure.
Abby sucked on your clit making you toss your head back and grip her hair. You could feel her smile. She stops for a second and slides in her fingers inside you
She curled her fingers inside you, rubbing against your g-spot as she continued to suck on your clit. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against her face desperately. She added another finger, scissoring them inside you as she finger-fucked you relentlessly.
She could feel you tightening around her fingers, knowing you were close. She doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she pumped her fingers faster. Her other hand reached up to roughly grope your breast, pinching and tugging at your nipple. She wanted to feel you come undone.
The combination of sensations became too much and you came with a loud moan, your body shaking and convulsing. Abby continued to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure. She slowly withdrew her fingers and licked them clean, savoring your taste. "Mmm, you taste divine," she purred.
She crawled back up your body, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She leaned down to claim your lips in a searing kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on her. She ground her hips against yours, her own desire evident in the way she rocked against you. She was far from finished with you…
She kisses your neck, trailing down until she reaches your breasts, sucking on your nipples.
She lavished attention on your breasts, suckling and kneading the soft mounds. She bit down gently on one peak, causing you to gasp. She grinned mischievously and continued her torture, moving between the two and back again.
“Mhmm.. Abby… Shit”
She heard your muffled words, your voice hoarse with desire. She knew you were helpless under her touch. She bit down harder on your peak, relishing your cry of pleasure-pain. She moved her hand down to toy with your slick folds, mirroring the action of her mouth with her fingers.
You bit your lip, staring at her. as if begging her to give it to you. You wanted her fingers inside your walls once again.
Abby looked up at you through her lashes, a smirk playing on her lips. She slowly slid one finger, then two inside you, loving how you bit your lip and watched her with eager eyes. "You like that, baby?”
“Fuck yes…”
Abby pumped her fingers in and out of you, curling them upward to hit that spot deep inside. Her thumb rubbed circles on your swollen nub. "Look at me while I touch you," she demanded. Your eyes locked onto hers as your hips lifted to meet her touch, silently begging for more.
She added another finger, stretching you. She watched your face as she increased her pace, her fingers slamming in and out of you. Your breaths came in short pants, your moans filling the room. She leaned down to capture one of your moans with her mouth, kissing you deeply.
Your legs shook as she worked you expertly. She could feel you tightening around her fingers. "That's it, baby. Come for me," she encouraged, her voice low. You shattered, convulsing around her fingers as you found your release.
As your climax washed over you, Abby gentled her touch, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure. She slowly withdrew her fingers.
She gathered you in her arms, holding you close as your breathing gradually slowed.
She stroked your back soothingly, placing soft kisses on your shoulder. "You’re gorgeous," she murmured. She reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a warm, damp cloth, cleaning you up tenderly.
She tossed the cloth aside and pulled you back into her arms. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly. She nuzzled your neck, her voice laced with concern. You snuggled against her, your voice sleepy. "Content," you murmured. "So taken care of…”
She smiled, her heart warming at your words. She tightened her arms around you, her voice gentle. "Good. You deserve to be taken care of." She kissed your shoulder, her touch becoming slower, more loving. "Rest now, baby. I've got you.”
Abby’s gaze softened as she watched you sleep, the subtle rise and fall of your chest lulling her into a sense of calm she rarely found anywhere else. The room was quiet, the only sounds being your soft breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.
She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in—a mix of contentment and the unfamiliar ache of something deeper. Brushing her thumb across your cheek, she whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me,” her voice so low it was almost swallowed by the quiet.
As exhaustion finally pulled her eyes closed, Abby held you tighter, as if anchoring herself to this moment. The worries of games and expectations could wait; for now, all that mattered was the warmth shared between you and the steady rhythm of your hearts beating as one.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
#abby anderson#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby tlou#abby the last of us#abby anderson smut#abby anderson tlou2#the last of us part 2#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#tlou#the last of us#lesbian#lgbtqia#dina tlou#fanfic#fan fiction#abby smut#tlou smut#tlou fluff
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Ha!- me when-
Oh yes! Pennies and dimes you drawers are mine 🙂↕️😏
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I LOVE WHEN FEMALE CHARACTERS SPIRAL AFTER GRIEF AND BECOME UNHINGED AND EVIL🗣️🗣️🗣️
#ellie williams#caitlyn kiramman#abby anderson#arcane#tlou#tlou2#the last of us#female characters#lgbtqia#wlw#sapphic#lesbian
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 21
dbf!joel miller x female reader
"If we died tonight, I'd die yours,"
summary: joel found you
warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.
CHAPTER 21
masterlist!
previous | chapter 20
The cold seeped into your bones, icy and unyielding against the concrete floor, and you could feel every bruise, every cut, every ache in your body.
The pain was an unrelenting, throbbing reminder of everything you’d endured, but that wasn’t the worst part. What tore at you now was the horror of seeing Emma, your best friend, taken from this world in a way you wouldn’t have believed possible had you not witnessed it with your own eyes.
Her life, her laughter, her warmth—gone. Because of you.
A sob caught in your throat as the weight of it crushed you. Emma hadn’t deserved this; she had a whole life stretched out before her, full of hope and love.
She had just started it, a new chapter, a new promise. And now, because she’d tried to save you, it had ended in unimaginable horror. The images wouldn’t leave you, wouldn’t stop replaying in your mind.
Jim—God, he was probably gone too. Gone, because of you.
Desperation clawed at your chest, leaving you empty and hollow. You could feel yourself slipping, hope draining out of you like a slow bleed, and something bitter was taking its place.
A deep, aching question clawed at the edges of your mind, one you’d never dared ask before, but one that refused to stay silent any longer:
Why would God let this happen to you?
You’d loved Him, stayed faithful, tried to be everything you were taught you should be. And yet, here you were, in the darkest pit, left to rot.
Why?
Tears blurred your vision, and somewhere between the sobs and the silence, you felt something break inside you.
You stopped praying, stopped hoping for anything good. The words, the comfort, the promises—all of it felt hollow.
You were empty now, just a shell of everything you once believed.
The door creaked open, and in he came—Negan, his footsteps echoing like the toll of a death knell. He looked at you, pity mingling with something else in his gaze, a twisted satisfaction.
A smirk tugged at his lips, and he shook his head, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy.
“Aw, look at you,” he cooed.
“See, doll, I didn’t want it to come to this. But you had to go and make things difficult. If you’d just listened to me—if you’d been my good girl—none of this would’ve happened.”
The rage bubbled up, scalding and raw. You looked at him, every ounce of hatred burning in your eyes. “What did you do to her?” The words barely made it past the tightness in your throat, but they were laced with venom.
You could feel it, the sickening truth—whatever he’d done, it was something worse than you could imagine.
Negan chuckled, an unholy sound that made your skin crawl. “Don’t you worry about her,” he said, a dark glint in his eye.
“I took real good care of her.” The words lingered, taunting, but before you could say anything more, he pulled a medical kit from his bag, the glint of a syringe catching your eye.
Panic shot through you, and you scrambled backward, heart pounding. “Don’t… don’t touch me!"
Negan’s eyes softened, his tone suddenly too gentle, too calm. “Relax, princess,” he murmured, reaching for your arm. “I just need you to play along for a bit.”
But you jerked back, thrashing against his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracked, fueled by the horror churning in your chest, the feeling of his hand on your skin like a brand.
The gentle smile on his face vanished, replaced by a cold, dangerous stare. His grip tightened, bruising, and in one swift motion, he struck you across the face, the impact leaving stars in your vision.
“Listen to me, you stupid little bitch,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly. “I’m done asking nicely. You’re going to be a good girl and do as I say, or you’re going to wish you had.”
You barely registered the sting of the needle as he plunged it into your arm. The world began to blur, darkness creeping in from the edges, and you fought it, clawing for consciousness, desperate not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.
But the drug took hold fast, dragging you down, down, until the world was nothing but darkness.
***
The address Negan gave led Joel to an unassuming neighborhood, quiet and tucked away, where homes lined the street like silent sentries.
Everything here was normal, almost obscenely so, and the ordinariness of it all set his nerves on edge. How could something so terrible be hiding behind these closed doors?
How could neighbors go about their days, clueless to the horror lurking so close? He took a long, deep breath, steeling himself, fingers grazing over the cold metal of his pistol holstered by his side.
He wasn’t a fool; he knew this was a trap. But nothing—nothing—would stop him from stepping into it if it meant the chance to see you alive again.
Before he entered, Joel slipped his phone from his pocket, sending his location to Tommy, leaving the device outside on a rock by the front gate.
He couldn’t afford distractions; whatever came next would be a fight to the end.
As he made his way up the steps, he felt it in his bones, that tether connecting him to you, stretched thin but unbroken. He knew you were here, somewhere behind these walls, waiting, needing him.
His heart ached at the thought of what you’d endured. It wasn’t right—none of this was right.
Inside, the air was thick with rot and rust, the scent of decay seeping into Joel’s lungs as he moved through the shadowed house.
Every step felt like a descent deeper into hell, each room echoing with the silent horror Negan had constructed within these walls.
The quiet was suffocating, pressing against his senses as he advanced with tense, deliberate steps, the weight of his weapon a cold comfort against his side.
The metallic smell of blood seemed to seep through the walls, thickening the air like rot as Joel moved down the dim corridor, his gaze fixed on the heavy big metal door at the end.
Blood was smeared across its surface, a dark, cruel stain, like the mark of some unholy ritual. He forced himself to breathe through the nausea rising in his throat, steadying himself with a muttered plea.
Please, God, let her be alive.
With a rough, trembling hand, he pushed open the door, entering a space so silent and hollow it felt like stepping into a tomb. The walls were metallic and gray, shimmering faintly under the dim, flickering light.
A hulking freezer stood in the corner, and around it lay instruments of terror—chainsaws, rusted wrenches, and knives coated in dried blood.
This was no ordinary room; it was a pit of nightmares.
He barely took three steps before his gaze froze on the horror ahead—a headless body hung from a butcher’s hook.
With a dress dangling from her shoulders, hair matted against blood-smeared fabric. For a sickening moment, his heart stopped, every nerve screaming as he tried to push down the dread that it was you.
But it wasn’t.
He knew you. The shape of your body, the softness of your shoulders, the line of your arms. Relief coursed through him, but only for a split second.
Desperately, he moved toward the freezer, steeling himself for whatever horror he might find. Inside, jars lined the shelves—heads frozen in twisted, agonized expressions.
Women. Girls to be exact. They don't look older than 20.
His stomach churned violently, but he couldn’t look away. And there, in a fresh jar, he saw Emma’s familiar face, her eyes closed forever in a peaceful, sickening slumber.
His chest tightened as the desperate, icy panic surged within him. He’s taken them all.
As he backed away, his gaze landed on a large object draped in thick canvas, its edges sagging like a dark secret. Swallowing, he approached, slowly pulling back the cover, revealing a small dog cage, lined with soiled fabric and stained in red.
It's you.
He could barely breathe as he took in the sight, disbelief warring with hope. Inside, you lay motionless, your body crumpled and cold, pale in the dim light, bruises shadowing your face and arms.
Every inch of you looked fragile, lifeless. Joel’s heart shattered, the pain so raw it made him stagger.
"No... no," he whispered, stumbling forward. "No.” His voice cracked, shattering the silence.
He dropped to his knees, frantically reaching through the bars, hands trembling as he fumbled with the lock.
It wouldn’t budge, metal biting into his hands as he yanked, pulled, and beat at it in fury until finally, with a final, desperate heave, it gave way.
He pulled your body in his arms, a wave of coldness seeping through his skin as he held you close, brushing a shaking hand against your cheek, as if he could will the warmth back into you.
“Baby…I’m here.” His voice was barely a whisper, as fragile as he’d ever been, a man torn open.
He pressed his ear to your chest, desperate for any sign of life, but your skin was cold, your pulse faint to nonexistent, the quiet threatening to consume him.
"I'm here now… open your eyes, babygirl," he whispered, voice raw and trembling, searching for any flicker, any faint sign of life.
He leaned close, brushing his thumb over your bruised skin, trying to will you back to him. "Doll… please… open your eyes. I'm here."
His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body trembling with the weight of the moment, and yet—somewhere, deep in his bones—he felt you.
You couldn’t be gone. Not you. This couldn’t be happening.
Desperation clawed at him as he murmured again, “I’m here… please, please… doll…” The sound of his voice, broken and laced with grief, shattered in the silence.
He clutched you tighter, pressing you to his chest, a hollow ache blooming in the very marrow of him. "Please… don't do this to me, baby…"
"Don't do this to me..."
For the first time in years, Joel prayed.
He’d long forgotten how to ask for mercy, how to whisper words into the void and hope something beyond him might listen.
But here, in this moment, he found himself clinging to the last, fragile remnants of belief, calling out to a God he’d long turned away from, begging—pleading—that you be spared.
His lips moved in a silent prayer, the words barely more than a broken murmur, all his hope wrapped into each fractured plea. Please… don’t take her. Don’t let her go.
His world collapsed into this single, unbearable moment. Everything—the pain, the emptiness, the years he’d spent buried in his own grief—shrank down to this: holding you, willing you to stay.
A part of him whispered that you were gone, that he’d come too late. It sliced through him, the pain cold and merciless, tearing at him from the inside.
But he couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t. He held you tighter, as if he could pull you back to life with sheer, desperate force.
"Come on, babygirl," he whispered, his voice a soft plea, thick with tears. "You promised me… remember? You promised."
His tears fell onto your skin, mingling with the blood that marred your face, his grief seeping into every inch of you. He bent his head, pressing his lips against your forehead, his tears hot and relentless.
Every memory, every moment with you flashed through his mind, a lifetime of love condensed into seconds. The laughter you’d shared, the softness in your eyes when you’d look at him—all of it now hung in the balance, slipping through his fingers like smoke.
Joel's grip tightened, his arms wrapped around you like he could shield you, even now, from everything dark and vile in this world. "Please, come back to me," he choked out, his voice barely more than a breath, the words pulled from the deepest part of him.
Come back.
His chest ached, his heart beating against a wall of sorrow so thick it was suffocating. And still, he held you, as though love alone could tether your soul back to him, could fill the silence that had swallowed you whole.
Suddenly, the silence between you shattered as you gasped awake, air flooding into your lungs in a desperate, rattling breath.
Joel’s heart jolted with such force he almost pulled back, but instead, he held you tighter, his relief an overwhelming wave crashing over him.
You thrashed weakly in his arms, vision blurred, disoriented and terrified, your voice breaking in panicked cries. "No! No! Don’t touch me!"
"Hey, hey… it’s me. It’s me," he murmured softly, his hands gentle on your shoulders as he tried to calm you.
His voice was thick, a rough whisper, barely holding back the tears of relief as he drew you closer, feeling the steady warmth of your breath against his chest.
"Joel?" He felt you relax, and slowly, as if afraid you’d disappear if he let go, Joel wrapped his arms tighter around you, silently thanking whatever force was left in this world for bringing you back to him.
"Thank you...Thank you God," he whispered to God, to bring you back.
Your blurred vision cleared, and as your gaze fell on his face, the tears came, spilling over in a torrent of relief, of exhaustion, of love.
You clung to him, like a child, letting out every fear, every longing, until the weight of his presence seemed to ground you, to make you feel safe again.
“I thought… I thought I’d never see you again,” you whispered, your voice trembling, breaking.
He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the side of your head, his words soft and steady. "I got you. You’re safe now… I’m here now." His heart clenched as he felt you collapse against him, trusting him to carry the weight of this moment.
The horror of everything he’d witnessed, everything he’d feared, lingered on the edges of his mind, but with you here in his arms, he could finally breathe.
He then kissed you, you kissed him back.
The warmth of Joel's embrace, that kiss—long, desperate, everything unspoken between you poured into it—all of it felt like salvation, like drowning in relief only to be pulled into air and held there, safe.
Your lips pressed together in a fierce, shared need to feel every ache, every moment of fear, longing, and love—the kiss deepening as if it could carry every bit of pain you’d endured and let it dissolve in his arms.
For a moment, it was just the two of you against the horror, the emptiness that had swallowed you whole.
Here, with him, you are finally feel alive again.
But then, the moment split open. A shadow loomed behind him, and a chill ran down your spine, the dread slithering into your heart before you even turned.
You pulled back, eyes wide, breath catching as you saw Negan standing there, his mouth twisted in a cruel, dark smirk.
In his hands was that familiar bat, glinting under the dim light, raised with lethal intent.
"NO, JOEL—" you managed, your voice breaking as terror surged through you, but it was already too late.
The bat crashed down with a sickening, brutal force, and Joel’s body crumpled beneath the blow.
“Joel!” Your scream tore through the silence, raw and desperate. His form lay motionless, blood slowly trickling from the wound on his head, staining his face as his eyes fell shut.
The sight shattered you.
Negan grabbed you, yanking you away with unyielding strength. You kicked, you clawed, but it was no use. “NO! Don’t do anything to him! Please, don’t hurt him, don’t—” But your pleas fell on deaf ears.
He threw you back into the cold, unforgiving cage, the door slamming shut with a merciless clang.
"NEGAN, NO!" You pounded against the bars, fists slamming as you screamed. He only watched, amused, as though your desperation was an orchestra he enjoyed conducting.
Across the room, Negan dragged Joel’s limp body to a chair, binding his hands and legs with thick, rough ropes. He worked meticulously, each knot tight, his gaze never leaving Joel's battered face.
Blood dripped from the wound on Joel’s head, trailing slowly down his neck, and you felt a crushing helplessness as you watched him, your voice cracking as you screamed.
“Joel! Joel, please… wake up…”
You clawed at the bars until your nails split, your hands bloody, but the steel held fast.
The reality of the moment sank into your bones like ice, each second stretching with dread. "NEGAN, PLEASE!" you begged, your voice breaking, but he only turned toward you with a mocking, cold look.
"That’s the last time he’ll get to touch you," Negan sneered, disgust twisting in his voice as he gestured back at the spot where you’d kissed Joel, where you’d clung to him like he was your last hope. “Disgusting.”
***
Joel’s world flickered back to life in fragments, his mind swimming as he fought the waves of blackness pressing against him.
His head throbbed with a searing pain, and his vision blurred as he forced his eyes open, seeing only flashes of movement and shapes at first.
Then, bit by bit, his sight cleared, and he could see you through the haze, slumped against the bars of a cage, tears streaming down your face as you called his name, desperate and broken.
His heart twisted at the sight, fear tearing through him as he tried to reach for you, only to feel the bite of ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles.
He was bound to the chair, unable to move. Panic settled into his chest, sharp and unforgiving. “Doll…” he managed, his voice hoarse and shaky as he struggled against the restraints, the blood from his wound still warm, trickling down his neck.
Negan’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and cruel, like the edge of a blade scraping against bone. "Well, look who’s finally awake,"he jeered, stepping into Joel’s view, his eyes gleaming with a sick, twisted pleasure.
Every word that left Negan’s lips felt like an assault, each syllable laced with venom.
The sight of him, standing there so casually, was enough to stir something inside Joel that was deeper than fury—it was primal, raw, a burning hatred that ignited within him.
Every muscle in his body screamed to break free, to get to you, to tear Negan apart. He pulled at the ropes, feeling them bite into his skin, but they held fast, as immovable as the horror that had unfolded.
"I'm going to kill you," Joel growled, the words thick with rage and the promise of retribution. The air around him seemed to crackle with violence, his every word a threat, his every breath heavy with hatred.
Negan’s laugh was low and cruel, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without warning, he drove his fist into Joel's stomach, and the sound of it—the sickening thud—echoed in the room, a sharp crack of pain that sent a wave of terror through you.
“No!” you screamed, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands reaching helplessly through the bars, as if you could stop the onslaught with your mere presence.
Negan wiped the blood from his knuckles and smiled. "You think you can save her, huh? Think you can play hero, Miller?" he mocked, his voice dripping with scorn.
"C’mon, you can’t be that stupid. You really think I’d kill her? Please… she’s way too much fun to kill." He sneered, another brutal punch landing on Joel’s face, snapping his head to the side with a sickening crack.
Joel’s eyes were darkened with pain, his mouth now filled with blood, but the fire in him didn’t waver. "I’m gonna fucking kill you," Joel spat, the blood dribbling from his lips, his voice hoarse with fury.
Negan tilted his head, studying Joel with a twisted grin. "Tough guy, huh?" he said, mocking the very idea of Joel’s strength. "Well, let’s see how tough you are when you can’t do a damn thing about it."
Joel’s heart was thundering in his chest, the pulse of his veins matching the brutal rhythm of the punches he endured.
But his spirit didn’t falter; it only burned brighter with every insult, with every blow that landed on his battered body.
Negan circled him, like a predator sizing up its prey, leaning in close, his voice thick with venom as he whispered into Joel’s ear. "What were you thinking, huh? That you could just walk in here and stop me?" He chuckled, shaking his head, his voice dripping with mocking pity.
"We were fine without you. Hell, we were thriving without you." His eyes flicked over to you in the cage, a dark glimmer in them. "She was happy, you know. Didn’t need you to be in her head. But here you are, playing the white knight, trying to save the girl you don’t even fucking deserve."
Negan's voice was like poison, dripping from his lips with a slow, deliberate cruelty, each word laced with venom meant to tear Joel down, to twist the knife deeper.
He knew the weight of Joel's guilt, the shadows of his past, and now, he was going to use it against him.
"You think you deserve her?" Negan’s tone was mocking, cruel, his eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure. "You? You think you can be her hero, Miller? You’ve known her since she was a little girl, right? Since she was three? And now you’re fucking her?" His voice rose with each word, the venom thickening, as if he could make Joel choke on the very idea.
"Disgusting."
Joel’s stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t respond—not yet. Not when Negan was playing with fire, fanning the flames of his mind, trying to ignite a spark of doubt in his heart.
Joel remained silent, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his gaze burning holes into the floor beneath him.
Negan was trying to gaslight him, make him feel like the monster, make him believe the lies about his relationship with you.
Negan leaned in, his breath hot against Joel's ear, like a shadow whispering sweet poison into his soul. "You really think you’re a hero, huh?" He chuckled darkly.
"You think you’re saving her? You’re just like them, Miller. Just like Ben. Just like that goddamn pedophile you killed. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it—taking matters into your own hands, playing God, playing judge, jury, and executioner. You’re the same fucking monster they were. You’re just too stupid to see it."
The words sent a cold shiver through Joel’s veins, like ice water splashing against his skin.
The ghosts of his past clawed at him, the blood-stained memories that had been haunting him for years now bubbling up to the surface. He had killed Ben and Jamie. Killed them to protect her.
"You killed them because you want her to be all yours. Not because you want to protect her,"
Joel’s jaw clenched, but his mind started to churn with the doubt Negan planted, each word a tiny crack in the wall Joel had built around himself.
He had been justifying everything, hadn’t he? His actions… the things he did for you. It was all for you, wasn’t it? To protect you.
But Negan was playing with fire, and his words were like gasoline—burning through the edges of Joel’s sanity, forcing him to look at the truth through a new, ugly lens.
“God,” Negan’s voice dropped to a low murmur, almost conversational, “I watched her for a long time. Long before you even fucking noticed her.”
He stepped closer, his breath sour, smelling of something rotten, something foul. “The first time I met her father… I was going to repent. I was going to change. Hell, Naomi told me to visit Reverend Gibson, to clean up my act, to find some peace. I was gonna find salvation. All those other girls—bored me. But then… I saw her."
"She was in that white sundress, innocent, pure. I thought—" He let out a dark laugh, shaking his head. “I thought God wanted me to have her, Miller. Maybe she was my redemption. To have a pure, sweet, innocent soul to redeem my sins."
"But then you showed up. Like a fucking rat you have to showed up for God's sake!"
Joel felt his breath catch, like he was drowning in the weight of Negan’s words, each one pressing down on him, pushing him deeper into a pit of guilt and self-loathing.
Negan’s laughter was sickening. It clawed at Joel’s chest, and the air felt thick, choking. “You… you played the fucking hero, huh? You couldn’t leave well enough alone."
Negan walking circled him, "You thought you could save her from her misery just because her father disciplined her. So what, Joel? Girls need to be fucking taught!"
"I agree with her father on that one. She was a brat! and oh she still is!"
The silence was deafening after those words. They hung in the air like smoke, choking the life out of Joel, filling him with a slow, creeping dread.
His mind spun, the thought of you, so innocent, so pure, now tangled in his web. Negan was poisoning everything, every memory of you, twisting it into something ugly, something perverse.
Negan didn’t stop, his words like chains tightening around Joel’s neck, dragging him deeper into the muck. "You led her to you, Joel. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t."
"You acted like you could protect her. But you can’t even protect yourself from your own past, can you? You’re so goddamn broken, so messed up. And now you’re just taking advantage of her.
Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a storm of guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. Was he—had he really led you here? Was he really just as bad as Negan said?
Negan’s voice dropped to a mocking whisper, dragging the words through Joel's mind like claws on glass. “She was your daughter’s friend, Joel. Ellie’s friend.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Joel’s ear.
“Don’t you feel disgusted? You’ve fucked your daughter’s friend. That’s how far you’ve fallen.”
Joel’s head swam, the weight of the words crashing over him, drowning him in a sea of doubt and self-loathing.
His grip tightened on the ropes, his knuckles white, but there was something else now—a spark of something dark, something cold in his chest.
"What do you think Jane would say, huh?" with the mention of his late wife, Joel's body tighten up.
"You think she’d be proud of you, molesting Evelyn’s daughter? Evelyn, Jane’s best friend. You’re disgusting, Joel. All of this? It’s on you."
Negan continued, his voice a low, mocking growl, pushing Joel to the edge. “You’re no better than any of us. Look at you, Miller."
"You took advantage of her. She was just a little girl who needed someone to teach her. And you? You saw an opportunity, didn’t you?”
"You are pathetic," Negan's word hit like a snake's fangs, stung through Joel's heart.
Joel clenched his fists harder, his body trembling with rage, fear, and a deep sense of self-loathing. His throat burned as he fought to keep the tears back, to keep from choking on the agony of his own thoughts. The floodgates were closing, but they were trembling, about to burst.
What has he done?
Joel’s thoughts were a maelstrom now. He couldn’t focus. His mind was torn between the images of you—so sweet, so innocent—and the cruel words that Negan kept throwing at him, one after another.
But then, through the haze of doubt, through the suffocating weight of Negan’s venom, Joel heard your voice.
“No!” You screamed, your voice breaking through the madness, a raw, desperate plea.
“Joel, don’t listen to him!” The words trembled on your lips, an echo of everything you needed to say, everything you wanted Joel to hear.
"Don't listen to him!" you screamed again, your breath ragged, your throat burning from the effort. The sound of Negan’s poison lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and thick, but you couldn’t let it smother the truth.
You needed him to hear you. He needed to hear you.
"Joel, look at me!" you pleaded, your hands gripping the bars of the cage so tightly your fingers turned white.
Every word Negan had said felt like a bullet to your heart, but you couldn’t—you wouldn’t—let Joel fall into the same trap. He was better than this.
He is better than them.
"You’re not like them, Joel. You never were!" The words spilled from your mouth, raw and desperate, desperate to break through the fog that was clouding his mind.
You needed him to see the truth—the truth that was you and him, the life you shared, the love you both fought for in the darkest corners.
"You love me. In your own way, but you love me, Joel! You saved me! You gave me a life I never thought I deserved." Your voice cracked with the weight of everything you were feeling, the deep well of emotion that surged between you both.
"Joel, I love you."
"I love you, Joel. and you love me, you are my savior, you saved me."
"Look at me! Look at me, Joel! Don't let him under your skin, please,"
Negan, on the other side of this fragile moment, stood grinning, eyes glinting with amusement, as if watching a puppet fight its strings.
He saw Joel waver, saw the flicker of doubt and fear, and he thrived on it. His smile was nothing short of wicked, enjoying the chaos he had stirred.
He had set his trap, and now he watched, savoring the confusion that was slowly chipping away at Joel’s resolve.
You could see Joel, fighting against the chaos in his own mind, the weight of Negan’s twisted words pulling at him like a chain.
His eyes flickered, lost, haunted, caught between his past and the present, between the lies and the truth. But then—then—he looked at you.
For a moment, it was like time stopped. The world held its breath, and all that existed was you and him.
His gaze locked on yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the raw, unspoken love, the pain, the guilt, the shame, but also the fight.
The fight to break free, the fight to protect you, the fight to keep you safe.
"Joel," you whispered, your voice soft but steady now, as if you were trying to calm the storm that raged inside him.
"You are so much better than this. You’re not like them, Joel. You’re not a monster. You are the best father Ellie and Sarah could ever want, Joel. They will be proud of you, she would have. The best man I have ever wanted, you're my protecter, the love of my life, you are my soul, Joel."
But as you cried out to him, Negan’s smile twisted into a sneer, his patience running thin. "Enough with your fucking mouth!" he growled, turning to you with fury, his hands reaching for the cage, yanking the door open with a violence that made you flinch.
"Shut up already."
Before you could react, Negan was on you, his hand slapping across your face with a sickening force, sending your head whipping to the side.
The sound of the slap echoed in the room, louder than your scream. The sting spread like fire across your cheek, your eyes filling with tears that blurred your vision.
For a moment, the world spun—his presence, his cruelty, all of it was too much to bear.
With that, Joel—Joel is awake.
In that instant, the haze lifted from his eyes. The fury, the protectiveness, everything that made Joel Joel came rushing back.
His muscles strained against the ropes, his eyes flashing with an intensity that would have burned holes in the walls if he could.
He was no longer the broken man Negan had manipulated, no longer the victim of his words.
He was the man who had fought for you, the man who had saved you.
"You son of a bitch!" Joel roared, the raw anger in his voice like a clap of thunder. His body surged forward, every instinct screaming to protect you, to break free from his restraints.
"Don't you fucking touch her!" He screamed, his hands were shaking with rage, but that was the only thing that kept him grounded—the unrelenting need to destroy the man who had dared to lay a finger on you.
The rope binding Joel's wrists strained as he twisted, trying to force the knot loose, his mind ablaze with fury. Every word Negan spoke chipped away at his restraint, his heart hammering with hatred.
The sight of you in Negan's hold—his arm around your neck, the gleaming knife pressed to your throat—made Joel’s blood boil.
But he knew he had to keep his wits; one wrong move, and you’d be lost.
Negan grinned, tightening his grip around your neck. His voice was dripping with mockery as he taunted, "What’s the matter, honey? Scared now?" He leaned closer, his sneer twisted with sadistic pleasure.
"Oh, Joel, why’d you have to ruin everything? If it wasn’t for you, she and I—" he paused, savoring each word, "we’d have lived happily ever after."
Joel’s hands shook as he worked against the restraints, his heart pounding. Negan’s twisted words were knives slicing into him, each one crueler than the last.
"She’s delicious, Joel," Negan sneered, his voice sickly sweet as he ran his tongue along his teeth. "The way she tastes... can’t get enough of her." He licked his lips exaggeratedly, taunting Joel, mocking him with every vile syllable.
"You should’ve known," Negan laughed, pressing the blade closer to your skin, just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.
"Stop it, Negan, please," you whimpered, tears spilling from your eyes, the despair twisting in your voice.
Negan only tightened his hold, his voice low and cruel. "What’s the matter, honey? You were enjoying it too, right?" The words crushed you, and you turned your face away, unable to look at Joel, a sense of shame sinking into your soul.
Joel's fingers scraped against the ropes with renewed desperation, his fury almost blinding.
Negan’s voice slithered through the silence, every word laced with cruelty. "You know," he continued, "I thought of sharing her around with the others. She made me good money, after all. She knows how to entertain… they paid well. Maybe you’d want a turn, too, Joel. She’s… profitable." He laughed, a dark, rasping sound that reverberated in the room, tightening the coil of hatred in Joel’s chest.
"I’m gonna kill you," Joel growled through gritted teeth, his voice a low, venomous promise.
"Ah, ah," Negan teased, pressing the blade harder against your skin, making you wince. "I’m not finished yet."
Negan’s voice softened, a calculated cruelty in every word as he continued. "But I started thinking... she can’t stay young forever. Thought maybe… it’d be a shame not to pass on those… charming qualities of hers."
"And wouldn’t you know it, Joel, she was carrying a piece of me inside her. That's right, My child!"
"She didn’t agree, of course… but a little force never hurt, right?"
Joel’s heart froze at Negan’s taunts, every word tearing open old wounds he’d buried deep.
Each sentence was a twisted knife, slashing at the walls Joel had built to keep the pain, guilt, and memories at bay. Negan’s voice was venomous, slithering around the broken dreams Joel had long since given up on.
He felt the darkness creeping back—the part of him that, years ago, had once loved fiercely, only to lose everything in one brutal instant.
But pregnant? His mind reeled, the word pounding in his skull like a drum. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, carrying his child—his child—pierced through the numbness in his heart.
He could barely breathe, the thought of you enduring such horror while he was oblivious igniting a fury so primal, so fierce, it nearly drowned him.
Rage tangled with a crushing sense of failure. He wanted to rip Negan apart with his bare hands, make him pay for every ounce of pain he’d inflicted.
Negan’s twisted laughter cut through his thoughts. “Yeah, she wanted a family, Joel,” he sneered, lips curling in a malicious grin.
“She had this fucking unrealistic idea, delusional bitch. You. Her. Playing house. Kids. The whole perfect life fantasy. But she knew, didn’t she?” Negan’s gaze pierced Joel, mocking him with each word.
“You were scared of it, scared of screwing it up like you did the last time. I mean, how could she not know? You’ve got ‘haunted’ written all over you. Lost control, didn't you? When you killed your own family,” Negan laughed, as if savoring each jab.
Inside, Joel’s heart twisted. He remembered the night like yesterday. Now he was left with nothing but ashes and guilt that hollowed him out from the inside.
Every part of him was screaming to shut Negan up, to wipe that smug look off his face. But it was true, wasn’t it? Deep down, he was scared—scared of losing again, scared of failing you the way he’d failed before.
But you, you were different. Despite everything, you stayed.
Despite the darkness he carried, the broken parts he tried to hide, you’d somehow found something worth holding onto.
That fierce loyalty of yours was like a light in the pitch-black cave of his heart, something so pure it almost hurt to look at.
You were stupid, he told himself, but the truth was you were braver than he ever could be.
You had this impossible, relentless hope—the dream of a life together, a family, even though he’d told himself it could never be.
You had loved him, flaws and all, even when he couldn’t love himself. And now, the thought of what Negan had done, the way he’d shattered that hope, drove him to the edge.
"But this stupid bitch killed my baby before they could feel their daddy's voice,"
Negan's words echoed in the dim room, each one twisting deeper into Joel's heart. The pain surged through him like wildfire. You'd done the unimaginable for him, sacrificing more than he could comprehend, and now here you were, your hope and loyalty used against you like weapons.
It was more than he could take—Negan was tearing away the last pieces of himself, bit by bit. Joel's fists clenched tight, knuckles white, straining against the binds holding him back, desperate to shut Negan up, to take back what had been lost.
Negan’s voice grew sharper, each taunt slicing like a blade. "You see, Joel? this bitch is loyal and fucking crazy, she killed her own child for you! just to make a new baby for you!"
"She killed her own kid—for you. All that love, all that loyalty, wasted on you."
"But it’s over, you hear me? You and her? Done. I’ll make sure she forgets you. And when I’m finished with you, there’ll be nothing left."
The world narrowed to this single moment. Negan, too consumed with his taunts to notice, didn’t see you move.
In a swift, silent motion, you grabbed a jagged tool from the ground behind him, the weight of it heavy in your hand. You swung it, heart pounding, and plunged it into Negan's chest with everything you had.
Negan gasped, staggering back, his eyes flashing with fury and shock. In an instant, he retaliated, plunging his knife into your side.
The pain ripped through you, a white-hot flash as you felt the blade sink in, stealing the air from your lungs.
"Joel..."
Time slowed, the world narrowing to the throbbing ache and the look on Joel's face—his eyes wide, pure horror carved into every line, as he screamed for you, voice raw and desperate.
"NO!"
Your name fell from his lips, a broken prayer, just as you stumbled back, collapsing onto the cold ground. Negan kicked you aside with brutal force, your body sliding across the floor as you fought to keep your vision steady.
You could barely hear Joel’s cries over the rushing in your ears, his desperate shout, the anguish that filled every word, but you felt his presence as if he were right there, holding you.
The sound of wood splintering filled the room as Joel threw his weight against the chair, shattering the binds that held him. In one furious motion, he was on his feet, lunging at Negan with a force that seemed to shake the air.
They collided in a storm of fists and fury, each punch landing like thunder. Blood smeared the floor, echoing the carnage that seethed within Joel’s heart, his fists fueled by a rage that seemed boundless.
Every blow was a release, a reckoning for the agony and fear Negan had unleashed.
Through your blurred vision, you saw them—Joel, relentless and unyielding, his fists raining down on Negan, every punch charged with a love he’d never put into words, a love you could feel, pulsing through every beat of your wounded heart.
The scene before you felt like a twisted nightmare, each moment a struggle to stay present, to push through the pain as blood seeped from your wounds.
You clutched your side, feeling the warmth slip between your fingers as you pressed down, refusing to give in. You had to stay awake. You had to stay with him.
Joel was still fighting, his fists relentless, fueled by desperation and a love that spoke louder than words. But Negan’s laugh rang out, mocking, dark.
“Tough guy, Miller? Is that all you got?” Negan’s face was bruised, bloodied, but he still smirked through it, as if even this pain was just another game to him.
"Bring it on!" Negan said. Joel didn’t let up, his fists a storm of anger, of love, of every unspoken promise he’d made. He was protecting you with everything he had.
But in a flash, Negan’s hand found his bat, and with a brutal swing, he sent Joel flying backward, his head colliding with the floor.
As Joel’s head slammed against the cold ground, a sickening thud reverberated through the room, a sound that echoed in the hollow of your chest.
But Negan loomed over him now, his eyes alight with a sadistic joy. “My turn,” he sneered, swinging the bat down again and again, each blow ringing out, a sickening thud that filled the room.
"NO!"
Joel tried to stand, tried to fight, but he was slowing, his strength waning. Blood pooled around him, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were glazed, his face pale.
Blood ran from his temple in a dark, winding river, and you could see the light beginning to fade in his eyes, the haze of consciousness slipping further with each ragged breath.
His gaze found yours, as he tried to smile, to offer you one last reassurance. You felt a surge of panic rise in you, raw and consuming, as you screamed, “NO! STOP IT!" you saw Negan bash his bat to Joel over and over again.
But Negan laughed, a deep, sinister sound that filled every corner of the room. “Look at you, Miller,” he sneered, swinging the bat down again, the force of it making Joel’s body jerk, each strike ripping pieces from your soul.
“You really thought you could win?”
Your vision blurred as hot tears slipped down your cheeks. The pain in your side was blinding, your own blood pooling beneath you, but nothing compared to the sight of Joel—your Joel—bruised, broken, and bleeding, his life slipping away with each heartbeat.
“Wake up, Joel,” you whispered, a plea laced with desperation, but your voice cracked as you saw him begin to fade.
"WAKE UP!" you screamed, “Please, Joel. Wake up!” You tried to rise, but agony shot through you, your body weakening under the weight of your injuries.
All you could do was lie there, helpless, watching as the man you loved was torn apart before your eyes.
Negan paused, his cruel smile widening as he noticed Joel’s lips moving, a faint whisper escaping.
“What’s that, tough guy? what did you say? oh my God! tough son of a bitch! look! he tried to speak to you!” He laughed looking at you as Negan point to Joel laying in the ground blood all over him, mocking, stepping back just enough to give Joel room to speak.
Joel’s head lifted, his bloodied face turned to you, his voice broken but determined.
“C-close… your eyes, doll…” His words were barely audible, each syllable a struggle, blood trickling from his mouth as he tried to form the words.
He lifted a hand, reaching out to you, trembling, his fingers stretching to bridge the aching space between you.
You shake your head crying, "No...Joel...", The world closed in around you, the weight of your love for him too heavy, too fierce, to bear the thought of letting go.
Tears blurred your vision, and you choked back a sob, heart shattering as you whispered back, “You can’t… I can’t lose you.”
"J-just, c-close your eyes, you're gonna be okay," he said again, blood now coming out from his mouth again.
Your chest heaved, your vision blurred with tears. No, you thought, this can’t be it.
The man who’d become everything to you—the man who’d fought against his own darkness just to hold onto yours—was fading. You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t lose him.
Then, as if by divine intervention, your gaze fell to the floor.
It's your gun. Your bible and your gun you hadn't see in a long time.
The gun and the Bible Frank had given you, lying just within reach beneath the table. A fire rekindled within you.
A fury as deep and fierce as your love for Joel, you need to save him. This man would fight to his last breath for you, and you'd do the same for him.
Then you began to crawl, inch by painful inch, toward the weapon. Negan, too caught up in his victory, hadn’t noticed, his laughter grating on your raw nerves.
“Oh, don’t worry, Joel,” Negan sneered, leaning over him with twisted delight. “I’m gonna take real good care of your girl here. Good night.”
But before he could swing, before he could deliver that final, sickening blow, you rose to your knees, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The sound shattered the silence. Negan froze, the shock evident in his wide, stunned eyes as he stumbled, blood blooming across his chest. You fired again.
You didn’t stop. Y
He looked at you, eyes narrowing, but you held your ground, staring into him with a steady, unyielding gaze.
Again and again and again, you pressed the trigger, feeling your breath hitch with each pull, each impact sinking deeper, as if each shot was tearing away the chains he had wrapped around you.
You are screaming as the fury poured from you, pouring all the agony into each pull of the trigger, trying to emptying every last round into him, watching him fall, watching his face twist in horror as his strength faded.
Finally, the gun clicked, empty, but you weren’t finished. Dropping the weapon, you stepped forward, picking up his bat.
The weight felt righteous in your hands. Standing over him, you paused, staring down into his eyes, watching the realization settle—he knew he’d lost.
Negan’s bloodied mouth twisted into a smile, his laughter hoarse and fading. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice broken, taunting to the very end. “All grown up now.”
Those were his last words.
You raised it high and swung the bat with everything you had, unleashing everything he’d taken from you, every wound he had caused, every hope he’d tried to crush.
The sound of cracking bone echoing in the room, a raw, primal scream tearing from your throat as you brought it down again and again and the bone shattered beneath you.
The world faded, reduced to the rhythmic, furious release of pain, until nothing was left but silence, his broken body beneath you.
You dropped the bat, chest heaving, the weight of it all crashing down on you.
And then you heard it—Joel’s voice, barely a whisper, calling your name, grounding you, reminding you of who you were beyond the fury.
You turned toward him, your body swaying with the weight of pain and exhaustion. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, as if the ground itself wanted to hold you back, to stop you from reaching him.
But you pushed forward, collapsing beside him, your trembling hands finding his blood-streaked face, brushing against his stubbled cheek with a gentleness that defied the violence you’d just endured.
"Joel… hang on," you whispered, but the words barely escaped your lips, thick with tears.
His head lolled against you, his brown eyes finding yours, and the blood pooled in his hair shimmered like some tragic halo.
You could feel the strength slipping from his body, a slow ebbing tide that pulled him further away with every heartbeat.
"Look at me, doll," he murmured, his voice a threadbare whisper, his hand lifting with a tremor to brush your cheek, his thumb sweeping away the tears that blurred your vision.
"You’re… you’re gonna be okay."
You shook your head, gathering him closer, your blood mingling with his as you pressed his head to your lap, cradling him as though you could shelter him from the world that had dealt you both such cruelty.
"No, we’re gonna be okay," you insisted, your voice breaking under the weight of it, a plea wrapped in promise.
"Don’t leave me… please, Joel. I can’t do this without you."
You could see the struggle in his eyes, the quiet resignation in his bruised face as he tried to smile, each line etched into his skin telling stories of a life spent fighting—and now, his final fight slipping through his grasp.
He lifted a hand, pressing against the wound on your side even as his own blood stained your fingers. Every breath was shallow, every word a strain.
He leaned his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes barely focusing but still on you, clinging to this moment, to you.
"I’m sorry, babygirl," he whispered, as if the words themselves could bind you together just a little longer.
“No. Don’t… don’t do this to me, Joel,” you begged, pressing your hand harder to his wound too, as if the pressure alone could stop the flow of time, of everything that was slipping away.
You cupped his face, tears falling onto his skin, mingling with the blood that soaked you both. "We’re gonna be okay. We have to be."
But even as you spoke, darkness edged into your vision too, the room narrowing to the beat of your shared breaths, slow and unsteady.
His fingers held yours, entwined in a desperate grip that softened as his strength faded, his pulse a faint echo in your hand. “I love you,” he whispered.
The words raw and cracked, filling the hollow spaces between you, the ache and loss that could never be spoken. “I’ll always be with you.”
The world blurred, the pain and fear blending into a strange calm as you traced your fingers over his face, memorizing every line, every scar.
"I love you so much, Joel," you whispered, voice barely a breath, pressing your lips to his forehead, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, the man who had become your salvation, your strength.
He looked at you, his gaze softening, his hand falling to rest against your cheek one last time. "I found you,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the darkness began to claim him.
In the distance, a sound broke the silence—a wail of sirens, voices muffled and faint, calling yours and Joel's name.
You heard your own name echoed, felt the vibration of the world rushing toward you, but it felt so far away, unreachable.
“Joel?” you whispered, weak and fading, your vision blurring as exhaustion pulled you under. Joel didn’t respond, his head resting still against your lap, his breathing shallow, slipping away from you.
Your name rang out again, closer now, a voice that you knew—a voice that felt like home.
"Tommy," you managed, a faint smile softening your lips as your gaze lifted, catching sight of his familiar face before the darkness claimed you.
“He found us.”
And then, like the soft closing of a book, everything faded into black.
HANG ON PEOPLE, WE STILL GOT ONE MORE FINAL CHAPTER!
#dbf!joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#the last of us hbo#dark!joel miller x reader#dbf!joel miller#joel miller the last of us#ethel cain#lana del rey#southern gothic#joel miller age gap#tommy miller#joel tlou#ellie williams#tlou#tlou hbo#joel miller x you#pedro pascal x you#preacher's daughter
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this the dealer!ellie yall bitches r raving about btw
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie x reader#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou2#₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ゚izzie writes!?#ellie williams fluff
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GET BEHIND ME GIRLS
i know a well written and hated woman HATES to see me coming
#arcane#caitlyn kiramman#caitvi#tlou#abby anderson#maggie rhee#twd#lena luthor#theyre my babies#i can’t help it#their commonality is that they all seek revenge#and they’re valid for it#is it always handled the best? No#but that’s what character development is for#although ik lena gets way less hate#but at the time she was controversial
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never heard wiser words
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#skin: patrol#ellie williams#dellie#ellie the last of us#tlou ellie#dina woodward#dina tlou#dina the last of us#virtual photography#ellie x dina#the last of us dina#tlou dina#ellie and dina#dina and ellie#lesbian#the last of us#the last of us edit#tlou#ps5#photomode#tlou photomode#the last of us photomode#the last of us part 2#tlou part 2#the last of us part two#tlou2#Ellie TLOU#ellie williams pictures#the last of us 2#the last of us ellie
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