#zone five quarantine fair

[hellishjoel]

seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” 

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert  on his toes. 

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else. 

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city.  Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another. 

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive. 

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies. 

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable. 

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse. 

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates. 

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from  death, they sent you. 

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die. 

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.” 

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter. 

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down. 

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies. 

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse. 

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today. 

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed,  despite running the same territory. 

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since. 

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine. 

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes. 

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past. 

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists. 

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like. 

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled. 

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home. 

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans.  You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert. 

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you. 

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you. 

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed. 

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you? 

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water. 

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing. 

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it. 

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him. 

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.  

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes.  You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down. 

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers. 

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice. 

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief. 

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem. 

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed. 

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close. 

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers. 

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.” 

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face. 

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?” 

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it. 

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. 

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears. 

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his. 

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield. 

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner. 

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you.  So you let him. 

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked. 

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt. 

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face. 

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful. 

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk. 

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer. 

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst. 

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.” 

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him. 

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring. 

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?” 

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers. 

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion. 

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more. 

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home. 

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion. 

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach.  Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next. 

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses. 

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury. 

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again. 

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head. 

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think. 

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms. 

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice. 

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!” 

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation. 

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do. 

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side. 

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace. 

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week. 

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle. 

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.” 

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.” 

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs. 

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.  

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too. 

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again. 

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair. 

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again,  lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him.  “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?” 

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face. 

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long. 

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.” 

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”  

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it. 

---

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[ilguna]

Supply Run: Can I get #24 from prompt list 2 with Joel Miller?

☼ stepping stones (Joel Miller) ☼

warnings; swearing, undisclosed age gap, death mention, murder mention.

wc; 2.4k

prompt; 24. "Don't let your fears dictate your life."

notes; i'm picturing game joel in my head. and this is set in boston but before he smuggles ellie.

--

A couple months ago you made the mistake of telling Joel a little secret about yourself when it comes to him. It happened during a game of Texas Hold’em with Tess and a few of your other friends in the quarantine zone. It came so casually, mostly because you weren’t entirely sober, and you knew that Tess was talking over you, anyway.

You didn’t expect him to hear, much less remember what you had to say, but it must’ve been one of those facts about you that he knew he should save for later. Which you can’t hold against him, because you would’ve done the same thing if you were in his position.

When you told Joel that he can pressure you into succumbing to any request with just his gaze, you were halfway kidding. You were referring to the game you were playing, because while you’re normally good at keeping a poker face, he always manages to crack you without doing it on purpose.

You knew the moment it came out of your mouth that it sounded stupidly flirtatious, but you meant it earnestly. Joel is one of those people where you feel safe enough to open up to him, trusting him with practically everything. Even though it’s difficult for him to do the same.

You’d like to say that Joel liked you from the beginning, but the truth is that he kept a fair distance and a sharp eye on what you did. He could tell just by looking at you that you were trouble. Or, at the very least, you came from it. When you joined the Boston quarantine zone almost five years ago, it was done out of desperation.

And you weren’t exactly the friendliest face around, something that you couldn’t help. Tess later told you that you had this specific look on your face, as if you were always waiting for someone to jump out at you. Which probably wasn’t far from the reality you were living at the time. 

Joel had a feeling that you came from a group of hunters, judging by the way you seemed to be prepared to defend your belongings at every turn. Since there was a period of time where he’d done the same, he couldn’t come down on you too hard, but everyone knows that the next generation of hunters are more brutal than the last. It’s because supplies are scarce to come by out there with every passing week.

Still, you preferred to be outside of the walls and not under the rule of FEDRA for the longest time. The only reason why you ended up changing your mind was because a group of travelers came through your hunting group and wiped absolutely everyone out. 

You managed to escape by yourself. If there were any other survivors, you never got to find out, because you were trying to put space between you and your camp that they were taking out. And when they found out that you were still alive, they didn’t let you escape so easily. You think they were afraid that you’d come back for them.

So, they ambushed you repeatedly. The first time they did it, they had too much confidence in themselves. They came in daylight with just two people, thinking that it’d be more than enough to bring you down. Once they were dead, you moved a few miles further out, toward Albany.

Well, they tried it again, coming in the daylight with almost eight people to bring you down. Fortunately, you’d scavenged in the area frequently, mostly because no one else liked going toward the big cities. You only had to bring down one person in order to secure your way out, but they followed you.

You basically drove them straight through the heart of the city, the infected did a bulk of the work for you. It didn’t deter them, especially since a few of them had survived the attack. The final time they came was during the night, and you’re still not sure how they managed to find you in that office building. You covered your tracks.

Regardless, they were so set on revenge that they abandoned the camp they killed your group for, and settled into chasing you across Massachusetts. You went straight to the Boston quarantine zone, knowing that they’d have a hard time trying to get you, then. 

The initial plan was to stay long enough to get your shit together, before going back out again. The longer you stayed, the more you decided that you liked the relative normalcy. You didn’t mind working, having a place to call home, food on your table almost every night. As soon as you started making friends, the nail on the coffin was sealed. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to leave since.

That’s why you can’t bring yourself to agree to what Tess and Joel are asking of you. It started out as a choice, but with Tess not feeling any better from the cold she caught earlier this week, they’re both telling you to help them. Which brings you right back to what you were saying ago with Joel making that face.

His steely eyes are piercing your soul right now, trying to get you to cave. You stare back at him, trying to replicate the intensity, but he’s so much better at it than you are. So, you resort to your words instead.

“I already told the both of you I’m not interested.” You raise your eyebrows, tearing your eyes from Joels, to Tess, who might as well be glued to her bed. “I don’t want to leave the quarantine zone.”

“You’ll hardly be going that far.” Tess holds her hand out in the direction of the window. “It’s just a few miles out. That’s where you’ll meet Wayne, he’ll give you the pills, and then you’ll come right back. Joel and I will do the work of bringing it to a different part of the zone.”

“The mileage doesn’t bother me, it’s being out there.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Tess scoffs. “You used to live out there.”

“Used to.” You emphasize. “It’s been five years, Tess. It’s not going to be a quick adjustment.” You turn your attention to Joel, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else, or do it alone.”

“We don’t have anyone else.” Joel says. “I can’t take the trip alone, I need a partner.”

You shrug, “I guess you’re going to miss the trade, then.”

“(Y/n).” Tess sighs from her bed. “Don’t make me get up to kick your ass.”

“Try.” You roll your eyes.

She ignores your comment, sitting up a little. “You have to miss it out there a little, don’t you want to experience it again?”

“I do.” You have no issue admitting this. “But I don’t want to get hurt.”

“You’ll be with me.” Joel stands up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “I’ll have your back.”

Your mouth opens, going to tell him no again, when you hesitate. You know that he’s not lying, Joel is the best person you can ask for while being outside of the walls. You can’t remember the last time he came back with a scratch on him after navigating the streets for days at a time. 

He recognizes your hesitation, pushing it. “Don’t let your fears dictate your life.”

When you look at Tess, she has this knowing smile on her face. She’s won, and she knows it. You close your eyes, shaking your head slightly, and then you let out a sigh.

“Fine.”

There’s a moment of silence as Joel looks at Tess. “I told you she’d come around.”

She tilts her head, face impressed. “I guess you were right when you said she had a soft spot for you.”

Your eyes narrow at Joel. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here.” You tell them, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Joel will take you to the apartment we regularly sneak out of before midnight. You’ll meet Wayne a few miles out, Joel will trade him, and then you’ll come right back.”

“Easier said than done.” You look at Joel to see that he’s giving you a halfway smile. “I still need gear.”

“One step ahead of you.” Tess waves her hand. “You’ll just use my bag, everything you could ask for is in there.”

You press your lips together, but give her a nod, agreeing. You wish that you still had your old backpack—FEDRA confiscated it as soon as they could. The only things you were allowed to keep from it was an old family picture and your knife. Everything else got thrown away or cycled into their own weapon supply. 

You had a really nice gun, too.

“Tonight it is.”

—

For someone that didn’t want to do this a few short hours ago, you find yourself glad that you caved and agreed. It was anxiety inducing for the first hour or so, as you jumped at every sound and searched every shadow. But it’s like riding a bike after a while—you get the hang of it.

Besides, there’s not many infected surrounding the quarantine zone due to the consistent FEDRA patrol. By the time you realized they were there, Joel had already taken them down and was moving onto the next house. This eased your mind considerably, allowing you to relax and mindlessly follow hi,.

A part of you is disappointed that this had to be done during the night, and not during the day. Not only would it be easier for you to see, you like inspecting the area around to see how it’s changed over time. 

When you brought this up to Joel, he wasn’t very impressed, remarking that had you listened to them earlier in the week, he could’ve arranged that. Since it’s so late and they’re going to miss their window, there’s not much of a choice left in the matter.

You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes at him. You weren’t looking to complain, you were actually going to skate directly into a conversation about what he likes best of the great outdoors. You decided that it would be best to leave it, despite knowing that he would likely realize as soon as you asked.

There are times where you can’t tell if Joel wants to have a quiet day or if he’s willing to let you chat his ear off. He seemed pretty fine earlier this afternoon when you were visiting Tess, but when you regrouped with him in the apartment complex, he was gruff and slightly irritated. 

It makes you wonder if it was something that Tess said after you left. He did tell you that he was going to stay back with her for a little while longer to talk about the deal with Wayne. That way he’d be able to catch you up to speed on the way to the fire station, which is just outside of Brookline.

Why you’re traveling so far for a bag of pills is beyond you. And you would be mad about the distance, because Tess blatantly lied to you, but it’s not the first time she’s successfully deceived you. It’s your own fault for believing her.

The pills must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way like this. You know they make a pretty good income with smuggling. They’ll be so well-off sometimes that they’ll slide extra ration cards your way, as if they aren’t practically made out of gold.

Either way, Joel hasn’t let you in on what’s happening. You’d say he’s forgotten, but he’s got a pretty good memory. He’s choosing to keep the reasoning from you. Which could be for a number of reasons—like he’s afraid you’re going to freak out. You’d like to think you’re level-headed enough to hear him out first.

A sigh escapes you, pace slowing. Joel glances over his shoulder at you, seeing that you’re not walking as quickly as before. He matches your speed, even turning his body to look at you better.

So he is open to conversation.

“Curiosity’s going to kill me.” You start, Joel raises his eyebrows. “You said that you were going to fill me in, and I’m all empty.”

He looks away from you. “Tess told you all there is.”

“Did she? ‘Cause all she said was that we’re picking up pills from Wayne.” 

“That about sums it up.” He says.

You squint at the back of Joel’s head, not liking the answer. Maybe you read the situation right earlier. “Okay, sure.” You murmur, looking away from him, to the houses off to your left.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes. This must be burn for Joel, because he ends up clearing his throat. “We’re supposed to work out an agreement with him.”

Your eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“Tess and Wayne got into a fight last month, he said he’d settle it the next time we met.”

You come to a stop in the middle of the road. “Are you telling me that we’re walking straight into an ambush right now?”

“No.”

“What was the fight over?”

Joel hesitates, “Tess cut his payout.”

You stare at him for a long second before looking away, around at the neighborhood you’re walking through. There could be dozens of people in these houses, and you won’t know until it’s too late. You’re not sure what was going through their heads with leaving a detail this large out, but Joel was right to try to keep this from you as long as he could. 

Sometimes you wonder why you even consider yourself a friend of theirs.

“Do we have enough to make it up?” You ask, he shakes his head.

“Honey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You were going to let me walk into a fight blindly.” You raise your eyebrows. “How do you even know Wayne?”

“He’s a friend of Bill’s.”

Your face drops completely, as you reach up with one hand to grab your temples, turning away from him with another sigh. You met Bill once, and it was before you’d joined the quarantine zone, but it was while you were on your way there. You ran across him by accident, and got the full force of his insanity and violence. 

“If he’s anything like Bill, then we need to go back to Boston.” You point down the road you’ve been walking. “I’m not prepared to deal with something like that.”

Joel reaches up, hand grabbing your shoulder to squeeze it. “I’ve got you.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[tapefish]

Zone Five Quarantine Fair Day 3: names | belief

Jet has no idea how true that is

Panel 1: [Girl: Jetstar.

Jet: hm?

Girl: Where did I come from?]

Panel 2: [Jet: Where did you come from?

Girl: yeah.  how am I here?]

Panel 3: [Jet: easy.]

Panel 4: [snap]

Panel 5:[Jet: you were a gift from the phoenix witch

Girl: oh.]

Panel 6: [Girl: thats pretty cool actually

Jet: sure is motorbaby]

[rosehipsister]

BAD WEED FROM THE ZONES, TUMBLENEWS

Zone Five Quarantine Fair Day 6: city | zones Have some important desert rules to live by.

@killjoynest

[satanfemme]

For the quarantine fair! Today’s prompts were graffiti and radio so here’s the V’s doing graffiti and listening to the radio, simply vibing @killjoynest

[lickthatbattery]

Zone Five Quarantine Fair, Day 1: beginning | escape

[killjoynest]

Zone Five Quarantine Fair

thats right! im committing to this!! this is the prompt week for Danger Days works! You can write, draw, or even just make memes related to one each days prompts! prompts arent very specific so you can go for canon characters or just your ocs, go wild!!

from the 4th to the 10th of may, the prompts are:

1: beginning | escape

2: neutrals | gangs

3: names | belief

4: radio | graffiti

5: droids | dracs

6: zones | city

7: [free space]

Be sure to tag with "zone five quarantine fair" (or @killjoynest) so any works can be reblogged!!!

[realkilljoyhoursnow]

freedom is death. stay in battery city. you need us. this is the last warning.

(6: city- @killjoynest s zone 5 fair)

[ravenxbones]

day five: droids/dracs

for @killjoynest ‘s zone five quarantine fair

everyone’s favorite robot lesbians

[pinkcherripoetry]

Zone 5 quarantine fair | FREE SPACE

Worked really hard on this, and I’m a bit nervous posting it but here y’all go! I might start doing audio recordings for this blog if people want more ;v;

( @killjoynest )

thanks to @vinylocity for providing the poem Cherri ‘wrote’ and to @doublemastectomy for helping me write some of the script!! Ily!

[headless-killjoys]

The Killjoy with 10 lives and a haunted shadow. 

Day 7! Holy shit we’re at day 7 already. Free day for @killjoynest‘s Zone Five Quarantine Fair! 

First up for this final day of the week is this art I drew of Fun Ghoul from my dullahan au! (which is also my icon) 

[anotherknifeinmyhands]

6 - zones | city (for @killjoynest​ ‘s zone five quarantine fair)

[stressed-depressed-emo-mess]

You’d make a pretty good killjoy

neutrals | gangs (It’s kinda both) for @killjoynest and the zone 5 fair.

Fun Ghoul always enjoyed speeding through the populated areas of Zone 2. He liked to watch the little children press their faces into a window to stare at the trans-am as it flew by. Usually on a run to meet up with a Juvvie at the picket fence of Zone one, Ghoul made sure to put on a show for the kiddos. The older kids, however, we’re definitely more friendly towards him. One time, there was a flock of teenagers on their bikes and as he slowed down, they started to peddle beside the car. As it turns out, there was a four-drac patrol just down the line, and the kids had stopped the dracs from doing anything. Once they were safe, Ghoul thanked the six of them individually, giving the leader of their mock gang one of his bracelets. The look on that kid’s face… Ghoul knew he had changed their life. Today was a perfect day for one of those drives, he was bored, Party and Kobes were cleaning up the orphanage after spilling glitter in it yesterday, and Jet and the Girl were off with Show Pony passing out fliers for the next Mad Gear and the Missle Kid concert. He decided to go on a drive. 

He was close enough to his favorite cluster of houses, ‘I should go visit them, I haven’t passed through there in a while,’ he thinks and goes to tell Party where he’s going before jumping into the car and speeding off towards Zone 2. He gets there in almost record time, but when he does it’s like a ghost town. No one’s outside, no one’s in the windows- hell the windows were blacked out. He shuts off the engine, and it’s completely silent, save for the occasional pop from under the hood of the trans-am and the howling desert wind. He goes to kick the engine back into gear and get out of there when he sees someone running towards him, waving their arms- it was the kid who had saved him from the dracs. He opens the door and gets out to greet the kid, but then he sees the terrified look on their face. Ghoul reaches back in the car to grab his gun before closing the door and running up to meet the kid. 

“Mr. Ghoul, you gotta help me- two- two dracs got my twin sib- sibling- we were playing- and- and I went to go get a glass of water and then when I got back I saw two dracs coming towards her- then I ran out here for help an- and I saw you- please- please help,” they pleaded, pulling Ghoul down the road.

“Where were you?” Ghoul asks, running to keep up with them.

“Just around this corner up here,” they say, falling quiet as they approached the gap in the buildings. Ghoul set his gun to kill, not wanting to scar the poor kids with a maim shot, and gave them a nod before leaping out around the corner and seeing two dracs manhandling another kid- a spitting image of the first. He shoots the first one square in the chest before the pigs can even see him, and he hits the second one on the arm, just above the kid’s head. The second drac, still standing pulls out his gun and fires at Ghoul, how dives out of the way, rolling to the other side. He noticed that he’d dropped his gun while dodging, so he runs forward to tackle the drac away from the kid. He saw a flash in his peripheral, the older kid had grabbed his sibling, and he lands flat of his back. He scrambles to get up, but a leather boot had pinned him back to the desert floor. When he looks up, he was face to face with the barrel of a white ray gun. He screwed his eyes shut, and said a quick prayer to the Witch that the kids got away safely. He hears the unmistakable sound of a lazar beam. The weight gets lifted off of his chest, and he hears the sound of a body hitting the ground. He opens one eye, squinting against the desert sun, and turns his head towards the sound of the fallen body. He gets greeted by a face-full of drac, and he jumps away and clambers off the ground, hand instinctively landing on his empty holster. He spins around when someone calls his name,

“Mr. Ghoul, are you ok?” the kid asks, gripping his gun like it was their lifeline and a wild expression on their face, and it clicks. The kid had picked up his gun and shot the drac before it could hurt him. 

“Thanks to you, kid,” he says, a proud grin spreading on his face, mirrored by them. They walk forward to return the gun, but Ghoul holds his hand up, “Nope. You save my life, and probably yours and your sister’s, with that gun. You deserve to have it. But make sure you switch it to stun before you go waving it around. You know, youngster, you’d make a pretty good killjoy.”

Their eyes lit up and their smile grew bigger, “Really? You mean it??” 

“I do. Now get. We don’t want another cloud coming through and seeing you with me, now do we?”

“No sir, we don’t”

“Dude, just call me Ghoul, you just saved my ass.” They looked like they were about to explode they were so happy. 

“Vaya!! Come on, we should get inside. Thank you, for saving me, I mean.” the twin said, walking up behind Vaya; was that their name?

“All in a day’s work. Stay safe, you here?” I tell the pair

Vaya turned to their sibling before back to me, nodding silently and following their twin into the house. Ghoul sighs and shakes his head, and turns away from the house back to the drac’s bodies and removing the masks from their heads and saying a quick prayer. Once in the trans-am again, he waves back at the twins who have their faces pressed into the window. He winks at them before doing a doughnut in the street and then speeding off to meet up with the rest of his gang. 

He chuckles and reached for the small radio in the car, turning it to Party’s frequency and saying, “Heya Party? I’m gonna need another gun.”

‘What did you do this time?’ Party asks with an exasperated tone.

“I shot some dracs, saved a kid, almost died, and then gave the gun to the other kid who saved me,” he said, grinning like an idiot.

‘All I heard was ‘Almost died’ so I’m just going to assume that it was a normal day.’ Party quips

“Hey now, I almost die only on special occasions. Like Jet’s birthday, you remember that?”

‘Just get your ass back here and help us clean up. If the dracs don’t kill you before you get here, Kobra’ll do it himself.’ 

Party hangs up with a click, and Ghoul laughs to himself. He loved his crew, and he really hoped that those kids would find on that was as good as his was. They might have been neutrals, but Ghoul could tell that there was a little something extra about those two.

‘Oh well,’ he thinks, ‘I’m sure I’ll see them once more before the end.’ 

Little did he know, that he would never see them again before his death eight years later.

[tapefish]

Zone Five Quarantine Fair Day 7: [free space]

Two motorbabys on a bike what crimes will they commit.  Thanks to @killjoynest for hosting this, it was fantastic!!

[rosehipsister]

Zone Five Quarantine Fair Day 4: radio | graffiti  I’m getting really tired of drawing for unrelated reasons but i don’t want to ditch this flashmob, it’s so good. Have a Cherri sketch w/o cleaning.

@killjoynest

[satanfemme]

A draculoid, nothing too fancy about this, just a sketch to match the quarantine prompt for today <3 @killjoynest