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jamminlocks · 4 months

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Just a Wink - pt 2 {Suna x Reader}

Tags: Flirting, flirting strangers, Fluff, Humor, Semi-Canon Compliant, not beta read, still not beta read, reader is a volleyball player, word count: 4322 Summary: You meet the middle blocker from Inarizaki again in the next national tournament and you still have the mischievous streak to have fun. A/N: the tags here and comments from ao3 were motivating and i still had some ideas in mind so i made another part. may add or change some stuff here are there [ao3] 1 ⪻ ꒰ 2 ꒱⪼ 3

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°

Your team lost in the finals to Sakura Chuo High. It was a good game, though. The first set was a win for your team. But the next two were won by Sakura Chuo. The last being 23-25. The feeling of defeat comes slowly. You're more relieved that it's over, glad to wipe away the sweat all over your face and to stay dry at the present moment, finally getting the chance to breathe and let your heart beat steady. Competitive as you are, you don’t feel crushed per se. Sad, sure, but not as devastated as some of your teammates seem to be. If anything, what’s has you misty eyed is their sobbing rather than the actual loss. Feeling the pain of all the training, the practices, to only lead you all not crossing the final step to reach the peak. That's what happened last time. Everyone worked so hard to get here. Still you didn’t make it to the top. But that's how it is. Sometimes, you’ve got the ball rolling and it stops at the last moment.

There’s still pride left in them, you think, that they understand second place is still really good. Some of your teammates will come to that conclusion later. Others, not really. They have their reasons and they're right to believe otherwise. To you, the team has proven that you’ve all come this far. Every other school will see you all as strong opponents for the next nationals. As for you personally, You could say getting up here is a huge confidence boost as a player and you want to play up to here again.

After the game, as you all wipe away the sweat and rehydrate, your captain and half of the team approach you while you drink from your bottle.

“Sorry we made you look bad in such a big game,” your captain starts, saying it with at most exaggerated seriousness that purposely borders on being funny. Paying no mind until one of your middle blockers said, “We promised to do our best after all."

You are confused, raising a brow. Then, they give a half bow to you and apologize in unison, confusing you even more. They were so in sync that it was suspicious, but a soft part of your heart gets the best of you. “Huh? What's this all about?” you exhaustedly cried out to them, worried you scared them at some point into playing better. You are in no position to suddenly have them be like this to you.

“We said we’d do our best so you can score a date with that one guy from Hyogo,” the team’s second libero states in fake disappointment and the others nod. In an instant, It all clicks.

This is so stupid. “Damn you guys.” You are so done with them. Still you can’t help but laugh out loud. You’re well aware that this is a joke, but the idea that they thought winning nationals will get you a date with an attractive stranger tickles your mind in a way you didn’t think it would and it has you howling in laughter, not caring of passersby or the other team notices. It fills you with pride that, despite the loss, they found humor in it all. Your team laughs along with you and you all banter while readying to leave.

The middle blocker from Hyogo in question, Suna-san, didn't quite leave your mind. After that little chat with him, you did not expect to see him again anytime soon. Most teams don't stay to watch the following days live after they're out of the nationals brackets. Though Inarizaki stayed for another day after they lost, you already assumed they’d be gone the day of the finals.

There was a part of you that would like to believe they did stay to watch. You already met Suna-san by chance once. Why not a second time? Or even just see other Inarizaki players walking around like before. But it seems they didn’t. You didn’t feel that strange chill when Suna-san had his eyes on you, not before, during or after the match.

However, you’re kind of glad it's likely that he didn’t watch at all. He wished you luck yet you lost. Now that is embarrassing, even when you were playing really well in the match. Therefore, you can move along in peace.

As you walk alongside your teammates, carrying their own respective gym bags, you like to think that the luck Suna-san wished for you will show up at a different time.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Spring came, all of you bid farewell to your seniors and you became a third year yourself. Without your input or by default, the team pretty much chose you as their vice-captain, which is actually much better than being the captain, in your humble opinion. The first years are a handful. They do have a great deal of potential, just guiding in the right direction, and maybe a gentle knuckle to their heads sometimes but they’re mostly fine.

Oddly for you, some teammates like to gossip in good fun and the little story of you chatting it up with a middle blocker from a powerhouse team gets to the first year players. From what you’ve heard and what the first years were willing to say that they heard, it's not far from what happened. Nonetheless you know that your freshmen, teammates’ active imaginations might have imagined it differently. Now, they think you're the senior who has the hidden ability to charm attractive boys when in reality it was just a sudden burst of confidence and living in the moment.

Regarding that one guy in question, Suna-san was rarely in your mind unless it was about nationals or the boys’ side of the nationals. Though the memory of the chat you had with him has been slightly tainted by the fact that more people know about it now and you have to always point out that you really weren’t trying to get it with him– you don’t even know where that assumption came from– whenever the story gets retold, you can still look back at it and feel pleased with yourself that you did not fumble. This is even more so because you winked at him, twice. The first time is the most fun to recall. You don’t know if you could do that again if you end up seeing him in nationals, if you even get there.

And then, the first half of your third year was to your favor. The team does great enough to win your prefecture's Interhigh Preliminaries, setting you to what could probably be the last nationals you'll attend in your school sports career. Perhaps that luck was paying off and you hope it will last you until the end.

The trip to Tokyo was much like last years, yet the new batch of freshmen brought a new kind of excitement when you got there. Much like the last inter-high tournament, your team waits by the stairs outside of the tokyo gymnasium, under sunnier weather, not to join in the clustered crowd inside. Keeping the team in a good mindset was a job you had with the captain and manager. That's what you were mostly doing. Still, the waiting has you bored and you distract yourself by looking on to the crowd of other players. The teams are a little more lively than they were back in January, it might be because of the brighter, warmer weather. New uniforms also wait alongside your team, new or returning teams from years ago. Plenty of old uniforms from last nationals make their return. They all come with matching banners of their school’s name. You find yourself looking for a particular shade of maroon banners and sports jacket, yet they weren’t there

The tournament brackets are inside the gymnasium, but you have the gut feeling that Inarizaki will be here too. You could do that right now, ask a teammate what team is here for Hyogo. After all, you could also be wrong. However, some of your more teasing members are quick to jump to the conclusion that you're hoping it’s Inarizaki because of, well, a certain someone, rather than assuming you're asking out of genuine curiosity. They’d be right too but you're not really in the mood to feed into their teasing. It's also on the bottom of your list of priorities. So, you spend the rest of the wait checking on your team’s well being while scanning the crowds of colorful volleyball jerseys every now and then to distract yourself.

The thought fades once your team enters the gymnasium and you, along with the rest of the teams present, prepare for the opening ceremony. It was only when you check out the tournament brackets after the ceremony do you see that Inarizaki is present. It’s impressive but no surprise to you or anyone. From what you've gathered, they won't be up to play until much later, same as your team.

Teams that aren't the first four matches in the main arena of the tournament spend their time being an audience of those matches or wandering around the stadium until it is their turn. That's what your team has been up to. Everyone is in high energy and high spirits, so most of your teammates are walking around either watching the games or checking out the stalls for souvenirs. Some opted out to just sit and preserve their energy for the match, leaving them as the guard of everyone else's bags.

You are one of those that decided to walk around. The excitement was getting to you a bit and you practically could not sit still. Your manager suggests you come along with her, figuring mayhaps getting on your feet will shake it out. She was just going to the vending machines and didn't want to go alone. You join her after snagging money from a pocket of your bag, thinking you could use a box of milk, actually. If they have milk, that is.

As you walk together, other bright uniforms pass you. You briefly watch the match from each court as you move. The squeaks of rubber shoes on concrete, shuffling feet, the impact of volleyballs on hands and arms, players shouting, audience cheering and playing their teams' cheer music, it all mixes and blends into the festive and energetic atmosphere nationals is known for. You finally reach the hall leading to the exit of the ground floor. It is where some of the vending machines are lined up. From what you can remember, most of them are on the other side, near the entrance.

“Shit”, your manager hisses as she hastily pads her pockets. Concerned but already understanding where this is going, you ask anyway. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my wallet.” As you thought. She then hands you her clipboard, and jogs off to the direction where you both came from. “I’ll be right back,” She called out, leaving you standing alone. You sigh, defeated yet humored. She bought her clipboard with her but not the money to buy anything.

After watching her disappear from the corner, you scan the options presented to you by the vending machine in front of you. Juices, soft drinks, canned coffees– maybe you’ll get one later– water, no milk. You walk to the next one and it's the same. The one after that is not even drinks. It's cup noodles and is also tempting. You keep walking and hear footsteps of other people but you pay no mind as you read. Probably other players anyway. It was on the third to the last one, a white vending machine like the beverage it is encasing. The milk is packed in small cartons that you find adorable since you were a child. There's the milk you usually drink and other varieties. It had you thinking

Should you buy the usual or be a bit adventurous and get the flavor you haven’t tried before? The pros of the latter is you enjoying milk and having another kind of milk to like. The cons being you might get an upset stomach right before a game or during the game for suddenly trying something new. However, you may regret it if you don’t give it a try.

Before you make up your mind, you sense it again, the feeling of being watched. Turning to the corner where you last saw your manager, she is still nowhere to be seen. Has she found her wallet and is on her way or still shuffling her bag? You huff impatiently, looking back at the milk cartons behind the vending machine’s glass. Maybe you should just buy your usual plain milk.

After making up your mind, you take the money out of your pocket, slipping the clipboard under your arm. Then, you feel it again, someone's eyes on you. This time, It's different. It’s specific, familiar. It’s the same to the one back in January, that chill. Your awareness heightens. Looking back again, there are other people walking. You half-hope that you would see him. Not because you want to, wanting to be right that it is the same chill as back then. But after scanning the passersby, specifically any person in a volleyball uniform, there wasn’t a single black jersey. It’s somehow disappointing.

Sifting through the money in your hand, there's plenty of 10 yen coins, some 50 yen too. What you need is 100 yen. As you count, someone walks up and stands at a distance from you.

Unsure if they were waiting for their turn to buy, you took a quick glance, noticing maroon cloth. From the corner of your eye, there you see him, Suna-san of Inarizaki's Volleyball team standing in front of the vending machines, staring at the rows of featured bottles, right beside you. His phone with a bright screen on one hand. The other is in the pocket of his jacket.

Your gut is telling you to say 'hi', like he’s already your friend. Winking at and talking to someone once from a few months ago does not count as friendship. Still pretending to be preoccupied, you observe him. It seems, like you, Suna-san came without a beverage in mind, scanning the selection of drinks behind each glass. He makes careful strides forward while his attention is on the side, not in a hurry. You played with the coins between your fingers. Should you talk to him? Shifting your stance to the other foot. The distance between you gets closer and he stops just far enough for him to notice. You're already here, might as well have your fun again.

“Hey,” you greet, a little playful at the tail end.

From his focus on the vending machine, his head pirks up, turning to you. Those feline-like eyes are on you again, less unintentionally threatening this time. Just like before, they gape open in mild surprise then they droop back. He smirks at you.

"Hey," Suna-san echoes with the same voice as he did back then– low, cool, lazy, like having recently woken up. He doesn't appear to have changed much from the last time you saw him. Still having the same haircut. You wager he grew a cm or soThere is a glint in his gaze you can't quite put your finger on. “You made it.”

You softly laugh at his comment. Was he expecting to see you at Nationals? "Yeah. I'm surprised too.”

"Your team did win second place in the last tournament," Suna-san points out. Hearing it from him sounds like a bigger deal. Well, he didn't have to tell you that, tooting your horn for you. He follows up with, "congrats, by the way."

Although smiling in thanks, you try not getting it too big. You said, "don't say that yet, that was the last time. We haven't played our first match today." Your attention is split between the vending machine and talking to him. There is a pause as you do.

“How was it,” he asked. A vague question. It pulls you out from choosing a drink.

Turning to him, you say, “you mean the finals?” It's still clear to you the feelings during the match, the rush, the exhaustion, the thrill. “Even though we lost, it was great. Manage to score a lot too,” recalling scoring a spike in one particularly long rally. The frustration in the Sakura Chau player's faces still brings you satisfaction. “I wanna get up there again. And, well, actually win.”

He nods. Likely understanding your sentiment. Inarizaki did get to the finals last year. However, losing Itachiyama. He would definitely know what you mean. Suna-san pointing with his phone has you looking down on your torso, "you're the vice-captain now, huh?” it made sense that he is referring to your jersey number.

You shrug one shoulder nonchalantly, though there is still pride in your voice, "yup."

He slides his phone into one of the jacket’s pockets. "How's that going for you?"

"Better than I thought. I’m not the one holding the sign, standing front all the time, nor the one doing all the talking for the team when the sports media has questions,” you said with a grin. A grin of someone who has tactically dodged a bullet. “Most of the time, all I do is keep the team in good shape and rally them up when they’re too energetic."

Suna-san’s head tilted up slightly. “You’re not overshadowed by your first years, are you?”, a subtle challenge. Not out of doubt, more like tempting a cat with a stick out of curiosity. You take it, though, just to play along.

“HAH! No.” you assert. “They work hard and play well, but I won’t let myself fall behind, even if the team’s winning a game.” A humble brag, really, one that you're willing to make. To your surprise, the expression of his eyes changes to something you can only assume being pleased at your answer. “And you, Suna-san?” Throwing the question to him, crossing your arms, expecting to be impressed. “I heard that the twins are quite a menace in court.”

Suna-san lets out a light, humored scoff, glancing to the side. “Compared to our old captain and vice-captain, they are. But, they’re-” he trails off a little, thinking of what word to use for them. “…manageable.” You nearly burst out a laugh.

It's time for you to lightly challenge him. “That's not stopping you from playing well, does it”

Only Suna-san’s gaze of his sharp eyes returns to you. His irises are in shades of murky yellow complemented by the light of the vending machine. They stay on you as his stance shifts- straight posture yet laid back- in brief seconds of finger twitching anticipation.

“No”, he said, calm and cool, a simple answer delivered in unwavering, unobvious confidence. There’s nothing for you to deny and you don't try. Impressive, very impressive.

It's cut short when you realize Suna-san hasn’t been choosing anything from the vending machines. Were you making him wait? You sway a hand to the display. "Do you wanna buy something? I'll get it for you if you want."

“You first,” he insisted. Both of you choose in silence for your beverage. Returning back to your self debate, the usual or something new? Scheming uppermost row, a carton of chocolate milk you always wanted to try but always put off. Given the situation, you are feeling adventurous today.

After selecting the chocolate milk, the payment was inserted and the machine began processing it. “Chocolate, huh?” Suna-san said, somewhat impling if it's a favorite of yours.

“Never got to try it. I heard it's good, though.”

Taking the cold carton out of the opening, you ask the other player, “So, which is it?” Wanting to follow through your offer to do it for him. A finger hovers over the buttons in preparation.

“Same as yours, actually” A stretched out arm hands you his money. You find it nice you're both drinking the same thing.

As you punch in his request, Another person approaches behind Suna-san, also a member of Inarizaki’s team. Speaking of one of the devils, a Miya, wearing number 2 as well. You were about to tell Suna-san of him. But the moment he sees you, the guy quickly makes a 180 degree turn– somehow not squeaking his shoes– and rushes back where he came from. Whether you scared him off or he had to go back for his own reasons is beyond you. You leave it be. If had something to say to his teammate, he wouldn’t have left. You insert the coins for the machine to process.

Mere second after Miya left, your manager came running from the other side. “SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! IT GOT LOST IN MY BAG!” She stops beside you, huffing and a sweaty forehead. Seeing the middle blocker, then at you, She smiles wide.

“Oh!” she said, the suggestive tune goes unhidden. It takes one particular look from you to convey that your warning her to not start anything. “This is Suna-san. He’s a player for Inarizaki. Suna-san, she’s one of our managers,” you said.

She greets him well and he politely responds, beginning with small talk. You don’t participate, letting them be and listening in. Suna-san makes your manager look lively in comparison to him. He is very nice to her and you can't really blame him. The manager has that effect on everyone.

You don’t let yourself gleefully observe the interaction for too long, nearly forgetting his drink. No one noticed it has dropped, so you took it out of the machine. The pen attached to the clipboard you’ve been holding fell and you picked that up too. Holding the pen, an idea pops up. You wipe the moisture of the box with the hem of your jersey and write something on an area of the box where the letters can fit in.

After you are done, you pat your manager’s shoulder. “Hey, buy something already,” gladly reminded her of why she had to run back for money. She does, moving to the different vending machine, leaving you and Suna to talk again. You handed him the chocolate milk carton. He hasn’t noticed yet.

“When’s your match?” you questioned.

“Don’t know. Haven’t asked our captain yet.” there’s a spark of interest in his eyes. “Are you gonna watch us?”

“I’d like to, honestly. I didn’t get to see much last year.” your manager is still choosing, but you know you're running out of time. So, you’ll slip in one more, little, not-so-consequential challenge to him.

As you take the provided straw and carefully tear off its plastic, you ask, “Do you think you’ll win today's game?”

Suna-san sees it too, that you're playing with fire with light touches.

He indulges you, “Yeah. We will.” a hand slips to his pocket phone to take it out.

“You?” the same question from earlier, mixed with a serious note by an accompanied raise brow.

“I’d like to think we will, just like last tournament,” you said while you inserted the straw. “Plus, I believe I still have the luck you wished for me last time, but… “stopping to take a sip of the milk. It's sweet and creamy, the chocolate comes a little late.

You return your attention to Suna. his eyes' impression changed in a blink to something so close to…enticing. Chillingly so, It's almost flustering. However, you’re not backing down in whatever this is happening between the two of you.

Cocking your head to the side, you coyly say “you’ll still wish me luck, won’t you?”

A short, quiet and breathy laugh escapes his lips. There’s a new warmth in his eyes too.

“Good luck.” such few words, given in cool, yet sincere confidence. The luck he wishes you may as well be tangible.

Just when you were about to speak, your manager held you by your elbow. Her other hand was holding her bottled drink. “C’mon let's head back.”

You turn to her, not without you grinning back at him, “See you again, Suna-san.” Taking the tip of the straw between your teeth.

You bid him your farewell with a drown out gaze long enough to feel captivating. Then, you give him a gentle wink before you head off.

After your manager waves him a goodbye, you and her walk off as you take sips again. No words were exchanged until turning to the corner, where boys were out of sight.

“At it again, are we? Don’t you think it’s a bit too early for you to be flirting with boys?

You don’t really like how she puts it. To you, a little bit of teasing back there doesn’t count as full blown flirting.

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Hehe, once the other’s hears about this–”

“Haha, Don’t” you cut her off with a threatening smile. She cheekily smiles back and rolls her eyes. Not pushing it. Likely understanding that you’ve grown tired of the boy charmer jokes about you.

Navigating through the busy halls of the gymnasium, you drink. It tastes a lot better now, more of the chocolate flavor dancing around. You wonder if you overdid it by the end, that you may have had too much fun. Such a shame you did not see his full reaction. The most you got was seeing Suna-san’s expression slightly falter with a smirk from your periphery. You suppose that will be enough proof you got to him somehow.

With each passing sip, the chocolate milk becomes sweeter from your own satisfaction.

•~•~•~•~•~•

As Suna inserts the straw that comes with the box, he sees something written with pen’s ink

‘Good luck in your matches,’ signed with the kanji of your name.

He lets out a gratified sigh to himself. Your wink is still replaying in his mind.

“Damn it.”

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°

A/N: jokes on me, guess i can post another fic before the year ends lol I sorta feel bad that their interaction took 2k words to happen lucky for everyone, there is a next chapter! i can hardly wait to finish writing it hahaha happy holidays everyone!!

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x yn #hq x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #fluff #flirting #mc and suna making me so cgcyfhvtrdkgvjhfku

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wildemaven · 8 months

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fall apart, again : chapter three | joel miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 4322

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Loss of child, Talk of death, anxiety, panic attack, heavy emotions, grief, Ellie’s wild mouth, reader has a name but has zero descriptive features/is a blank slate

A/N: I don’t have a ton to say. It’s all just heavyX and I didn’t anticipate to feel so many things when I started this fic. But I think things will feel less heavy moving forward. I’m going to take a small break from this, just to let it be for a minute. There will be a small interlude I’ll put out before Chapter 4. I appreciate all the love and support through this! Big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being the best and constantly helping me work through things when I was feeling stuck.

Series Masterlist / Inspo Board / Playlist

Previous / Next

You’re frozen, standing in front of the man you had come to accept was gone.

Your life. Your husband.

You mourned him. Cried for him— for years while navigating through a post apocalyptic world.

The grief ate away at you as the years ticked on, further and further from that September day, where you both stood together in front of the home you had built a life in. The pain festered at the fact that you were alive and your family was not.

A selfish twinge of guilt swirled, so deeply embedded within, the shame you felt by allowing yourself to fall in love with another man, a man who was not your husband.

But now you’re here, safe with the confines of this settlement, no more threats to out run or hide from.

Here, in this home that is unfamiliar to you, your husband, Joel, standing merely feet away— alive.

Joel is alive.

“Joel?”

“Eve?”

Your movements are slow, borderline hesitant, as you take the few short steps needed to bring you closer to him, your brain still registering this new version of him— seasoned with many years, years that lacked your existence.

A single tear cascades down his face, sadness and surprise cloud his features. Breathing becomes difficult, his chest tightening with each passing moment, lungs constricting with each pull of air— vision beginning to blur as he tries to focus on you standing in front of him. You’re alive.

The first touch is surreal, the cool-wetness of the tear beneath your thumb as you wipe it across his warm cheek— his eyes closing as he leans into your hand.

A sob wrecks through your lips as you throw your arms around him, chests knocking against each other as you scramble to get as close as possible, gripping him tightly— the proximity not enough to elevate the fear of him disappearing the moment you let go.

Words fail you.

Joel tucks his face into the curve of your neck, his arms securing you to him, body vibrating as he weeps along with you.

“Wow, that’s quite the welcome you're giving her there, Joel. He threw me against a wall and pointed a gun at me the first time we met.”

A low chuckle ripples through his chest, unwrapping himself from your arms, using the sleeve of his green plaid shirt to wipe his watery eyes, then taking it upon himself to wipe your face— his callused hands rough to the touch, but forgiving in their efforts.

“Ellie, this is Eve—.” His eyes are fixed on you, a smile slowly emerging on your face.

“Got that, already been introduced— Genevieve, Eve or whatever. By the looks of it, you seem to know each other pretty well. What— are you guys, ex-lovers or something? Clearly something more than whatever Tess and you were.” Ellie snarks.

There’s a pause, Joel wincing at the mention of Tess. “Whatever Tess and you were.” Even now he doesn’t think he can find the words to define what they were to each other, never feeling like he could fully give himself to her the way she wanted, needed or deserved.

You were his wife—then, now and forevermore.

Joel reaches for your hand, still wet from your tears, wrapping it around your own.

“Eve— Eve is my wife.” He notices the ring still on your finger the minute he says it, the pad of his finger smoothing over the small diamond, you never took it off after all this time.

“No shit! Can’t believe you convinced someone to marry your grumpy ass. Ha! Wait, when did you have time to get married?” Ellie’s brain is already working through the timeline of events to see where she missed this union between Joel and you.

“Umm… before, everything— Eve and I were married before the outbreak.” He feels a knot forming in his throat, thinking back to that last time he had seen you— the last goodbye that turned into the last time he’d ever hear from you again.

You squeeze his hand, pulling his attention back up to you. Knowing Joel, you can only imagine the amount of anguish he dealt with over the last two decades.

“Dang! And this whole time you thought she was dead and she probably thought you were dead— fuck.”

“Ellie, don’t!” Joel sees where her thought process is going.

“Wait, so that makes you— Sarah’s mom? Oh, damn!”

“Ellie!”

Sarah.

You were so caught up with seeing Joel alive after 21 years, it had slipped your mind to ask where Sarah was. Your heart skips at the thought of being reunited with her, your sweet little girl now a grown woman.

It’s been a never ending stream of tears today, the thought of embracing your daughter only adding to your endless weeping.

Breathing her in, reacquainting yourself with an older version of her, being on the receiving end of that bright smile, again. Your mind runs through every single thing you wanted to say to her, ask her so many questions, just sit and listen to everything she has to share.

You want your daughter.

Sarah.

“Where’s Sarah?” Your eyes scanning the rooms, how could you have missed seeing her?

“Eve—“ Joel barely manages to get your name out.

Every turn you’re met with an empty couch, an empty kitchen, Sarah nowhere in sight. The staircase catches your attention, another floor of rooms, Sarah must be tucked away and unaware of your presence.

“Sarah! It’s me— mom! I’m here!” You shout up to the second level of the house.

“Eve—“

Your heart is pounding within the confines of your rib cage, ready to burst the second she reveals herself.

As the minutes continue to pass by, the silence becomes deafening. Your vision begins to soften, it’s a battle to try and pull air into your lungs, tiny little tingles dance across your skin

“Sarah— J-joel, where’s Sarah?” Stammering over your words, staring dolefully at the top of the empty staircase.

“Eve, we should talk about everything— about Sarah.”

He didn’t need to say anything more. You don't need a slew of words and sentences to confirm what you already know.

You can feel yourself slowly breaking, piece by piece your heart shattering at the realization that Sarah isn’t here— not just in Jackson.

You need to be alone, to process through this loss— again.

“Is there a shower in the garage? Or is there one in here I can use? I’d like to freshen up…” You ask as you turn to Joel, his eyes filled with tears again knowing you have already come to the conclusion on your own.

“Uh, yeah— upstairs. The room on the right is mine, you can use the shower in there. Do you need me to get you anything?” He remembers how you always used to say a hot shower always made you feel better after a shitty day, this felt like one of those days.

“Just— just my bag. Maria said she was grabbing it for me.” You say flatly before heading up the stairs in the direction of Joel’s bedroom.

“Okay.” He utters at your retreating form.

It’s a quick journey from the living room to the bathroom tucked in the corner of Joel’s master bedroom.

The minute the door clicks closed, you steady yourself against the bathroom counter, knuckling tight against the cold tile as you try to muster up the energy to move.

You’re met with your reflection again, the second time in a 24 hour period. Puffy eyes staring directly back at you, taking in your worn appearance, in desperate need to wash the grim and sweat, hoping it will wash the despair and heartbreak right along with it.

It’s a fumbling mess as you try to rid yourself of your clothes, the fabric feeling claustrophobic and uncomfortable. Your hands work against each other as you attempt to undo each tiny fastener of your top, resulting in tearing it off as quickly as possible and buttons flying across the room.

Boots, jeans and undergarments thrown off in an arduous mess.

Goosebumps litter your arms and legs, the cool air of the stale bathroom wrapping around your exposed skin.

Bare.

Your mind. Your body. Your heart.

Flashes of light prick at your sight, narrowing your vision, a dizzying feeling as you stand in the small room unable to move as your mind wanders through the darkness that’s haunted you— that small voice that has never been kind, a relentless force that creeps in when you’re at your lowest.

This is your fault. You should have never left. You tore your family apart. If you were there you could have saved her, she would still be here. Sarah would be alive. This is your fault!! Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!

The walls groan the second you turn the shower on, steam looming over the plastic curtain. The water stings as it hits your skin, just the right amount of heat to wash away the pain that began to settle in your body.

Your gaze fixed at the ceiling of the shower, blinking away the tears that so desperately need to be shed, your lips trembling as the memories begin to fill your mind.

First cry, so tiny and beautiful tucked into Joel’s strong arms.

First steps, her little legs waddling across the living room floor to you and Joel.

First day of school, so eager to meet her teacher and new friends as she bounced into the classroom, leaving you and Joel, both a mess, at the door.

First concert, singing at the top of her lungs as Jewel sang her top hits, Joel standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders quietly serenading you throughout the show— You were meant for me, And I was meant for you.

First day in middle school, a teen waving you both off as she walked towards her first class located across campus, your little girl no more.

It’s the final memory that wreaks havoc on your already depleted soul, eyes closing as a surge of tears cascades down your face merging with the scalding water, shoulders shaking with each choked sob, head falling into your hands— finally allowing yourself to fall apart, again.

Last goodbye, her not so bubbly self annoyed at her parents for their lack of communication, trying her best to put on a brave face when the separation had been secretly affecting her, a goodbye hug and kiss with a promise to see her in a weeks time, her reflection the last image of her as you drove away.

Joel finds himself frozen in place. Tears crystallized and his heartbeat slowly returning to a normal state. He’s staring at the top of the now empty stairs, muffled sounds of the shower pulsating through the air.

He’s still processing the events since walking through the front door. Seeing you alive has him stunned. Spending the last two decades broken and marred over the loss of his family— his life. A pain so deep, it’s forever etched into his fractured heart.

A part of him wants to run up those stairs, pull you into his arms and never let go. The rational part decides he should let you ease into this space, the less overwhelming the better. He knows a talk will have to happen at some point, one he’s not sure he’s ready to endure, but you deserve to know everything.

“Well, that was fucking awkward. Geesh! Like your past is coming back to haunt your old ass or somethin’?” Ellie stated, breaking Joel from his growing thoughts.

“Ellie, knock it off.” He spits out, knowing she means well, but her timing is usually off.

“What? It’s not everyday your wife shows up, her husband gets shot and dies—“

“Her husband?” Joel says in disbelief at Ellie mentioning that you had come here with a husband.

You weren't alone? Your Husband?

“Only to find he’s not her husband or he is, but you are too? Then she’s wandering through the house calling for a ghost!” Her filter is doing a terrible job as she continues to push his buttons.

Joel turns, brows pinched and eyes boring at where she’s still sitting at the dining table, smirking to herself at how wound up he’s getting.

“So, I’m assuming she put two and two together about Sarah then?” Ellie adds, her tone less nagging than earlier, sensing Joel isn’t in the mood for her antics.

“Yeah…” He breathes out, his fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, he feels the slight twinge of a headache beginning to settle in.

There’s a knock at the front door that grabs Joel and Ellie’s attention. Joel opens the door to find Maria standing on the front porch with a canvas backpack in her hands.

“Hey, Joel. I’m just dropping off Genevieve’s things.” Handing the canvas pack to Joel. “There’s a letter in there you should probably read— I didn’t mean to snoop, it had fallen out. Tommy read it too— he told me, she’s your wife. Once things have settled a bit, he’d like to come say hi. Maybe we can do a family dinner or something— if you’re up for it.”

Joel hears a mention of a letter, the rest of what she says blends together, he’s too focused on the bag in his hand. It’s not heavy in weight, filled with pieces of you and your life that you carried around, a burden he wishes he could have taken on himself.

“Yeah, sure. Oh, umm— no need to worry ‘bout setting up another house, she’ll stay here in the guest room—“ Joel explains to Maria.

“What! Why can’t she just shack up with you, she’s your wife? That’s my room— where the fuck am I gonna stay?” Ellie’s chair scrapes across the floor as she stands up and shouts to Joel and Maria.

“You can stay out in the garage, plenty enough space for ya. I'm not gonna force her to do something she might not be ready for just yet. We’ll see how things go.” Joel tries to reason with her.

“This is bullshit! She shows up and gets the royal treatment and I’m kicked out like I’m nothing!” Ellie blurted as she side-stepped between him and the front door, passing Maria to make her way out of the yard.

“Ellie! Where are you goin’ kid?” Joel protested.

“Out!” Ellie doesn’t look back as walks further away.

“Shit! Sorry ‘bout that. I should have waited until and talked to her about it first before makin’ that call myself. After everything we’ve been through— this is all a lot to deal with.” Joel apologizes.

“Give her some time. I’ve never raised a teenager, yet, but I come from a family of girls and we always needed a little reassurance when it came to change or major life events. I wouldn’t worry too much. Plus, teenagers love their own space, she’ll come around to the idea.” Maria tries to make him feel better about his decision. “I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget— dinner in the next day or so.”

“Got it. Thanks, Maria.” Closing the door hastily.

Joel sits on the couch, your bag resting on the coffee table in front of him, chin propped up by his hands with his elbows on his knees. He can still hear the shower going, making the house feel less empty than it should.

He cautiously opens your bag, the letter Maria had mentioned is sitting on top of your other belongings. As he carefully pulls the folded paper out, he notices a picture tucked into an inside pocket. An old faded Polaroid, it sits heavy between his fingers. He stares at the image, a distant memory of him and Sarah on a summer afternoon trip for ice cream— you had insisted on taking their picture. It was your favorite and you always carried it with you in your purse. A soft whimper falls from his lips, eyes welling up as he takes in the worn photo— it’s been so long since he’d seen her smile.

Joel reads your words through his tears. The lump in his throat building with each word, thick with a longing to be close to you, hold you in his arms, make up for lost time and lost intimacy you once shared.

My Sweet Joel,

I hate that this is the only way I can talk to you. You’d think it would get easier as time goes on— it probably would if I allowed it. But I can’t seem to let go of you and how much I love you, no matter how many years have passed— you’re too ingrained within me.

I miss our mornings together, quiet sunrise talks in bed were my favorite way to start my day— even if it took us forever to untangle from each other. What I wouldn’t give to be in your arms right now. I miss your warmth, always so warm.

I miss the way your eyes lit up when Sarah would finally join us for breakfast. I think we spent most mornings missing her when she was only down the hall from us. She was such a light, gentle and loving— she got that from you.

Her birthday is in a few weeks— her 35th. I wonder what she would be into now? I’m sure she would still hate the way we always tell the restaurants it was her birthday, those cheesy songs always embarrassed her so much.

I miss her so much Joel. I miss our family. I miss you.

Sometimes I wish I could start this life over. A redo. I’d still choose you. But we’d do things differently— no stress, no fighting, no separation. And there would be no fucking apocalyptic bullshit to tear us apart. Live somewhere in the country, away from the busy world, just us— our family.

We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise…

It’s a blurred rush of movements as he fumbles up the stairs to his room. Your bag tossed into a corner of his bedroom, items spilling out onto the floor, a problem for a later time.

He runs through the reasons why he should wait, giving you space until you’re ready to talk as he stares blankly at the closed bathroom door. It’s when he hears a muffled cry coming from the other side of the door that his vow to protect you from any harm physically or emotionally, to keep you safe from all the things happening in your mind.

Joel is grit and determination when he needs to be, a hard exterior presence that has been a staple feature of his, especially in the midst of this apocalyptic world. But even with his austere backbone, he’s an equally broken and fragile man.

When he pulls the shower curtain back and sees your grief-stricken body, he’s immediately stepping into the shower with you, fully clothed and shielding you from the hot spray of water as he wraps himself around your shaky frame. Your hands instinctively grabbing onto his drenched flannel for support as your knees give out and he slowly guides you both to the shower floor.

“It’s okay— I got you sweetheart— y’er okay, I got you!” His hold on you is unwavering, keeping you tucked in close to his chest, doing his best to lessen the impact on your heavy heart.

“I-it’s my f-fault! I-I s-should have n-never l-left!” Your words thick with guilt and gasping for air as you weep against Joel’s sodden shirt.

“Shhhh— none of that. I won’t let you do that to yourself!” He says between pressing purposive kisses to the top of your head.

“I s-should h-have b-been t-there! I-it s-should h-have b-been m-me!”

A pair of heavy wails crash into the air, your bodies convulsing against each other, no longer suffering in a grievous purgatory alone.

Your lashes flutter over your cheeks, eyelids heavy and swollen. Tears dried long after the shower had run frigid prompting Joel to turn the water off, a respite from the sadness—but too weak to find the strength to remove yourselves from the cramped cold space.

Joel shifts his body, the rubber sole of his boots squeaks against the porcelain tub as he tries to alleviate the pressure of his worn knees. He adjusts his grip on you as he moves, his hands brushing across your skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re shakin’. Let’s get you outta here— you can borrow one of my shirts. We can go down to the mercantile and pick up some new clothes tomorrow.” Joel manages to get you both to your feet.

“Joel, your clothes— you’re soaking wet.”

“S’fine. Need to get you warmed up. I’ll worry ‘bout myself afterwards.” He says rubbing his hands over your shoulders, hoping it’s giving you some sort of warmth.

Your hands tremble as you begin to slowly pluck at the buttons of his shirt, his large hands halting your movements wrapping around your wrists, pulling your attention to where he’s already looking at you.

“Let me— let me help you, please.” Your whispered words float through the air, and he lets you continue to work your way down the line of buttons, sliding the flannel off his broad shoulders on the floor.

Gathering the hem of his drenched white undershirt, you peel it up and off his body, his now exposed upper half littered with faded markings. Each scar is a new layer in his story, an indication of risks and challenges he faced.

Your fingers trace over the ridges of what you assume is his most recent one on his lower abdomen, no desire for the details of how he got it or how it almost cost him his life, at least not right now, grateful that the bunched and distorted skin is proof of his survival.

“I missed you so much, Joel. I’m scared this is all a dream, that I’ll wake up and none of this was real.” You say with your lips pressed firmly over the space where his heart lives, its thrumming cadence a calming force.

“This is real, very real. I thought I lost you, but you’re here, we’re together, again.” He murmurs softly, cradling your face in his hands, his gaze consuming your hesitant eyes.

His eyes land on your lips briefly, the gesture feels so natural, he doesn’t want to pressure you, he’d wait forever— he already has. For you it’s an easy decision, closing the distance between you, your lips slotting over his, in no real rush to make up for lost time at the moment, just needing to convey your love for him.

“I love you so much, Eve. I never stopped.”

He kisses you now, a little deeper and a little more confident and all-encompassing.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance again to tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, Joel— and now that it’s here, words don’t feel like they’re enough. I love you!”

Once in his room, Joel finds a shirt and a pair of boxers for you to wear, promising again to take you to find some new items tomorrow when you’re ready.

“Umm, I guess I’ll head into the garage then.” Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt, a musky scent of him already drifting from the woven threads, eliciting a nostalgic fluttering.

“No— you sleep here tonight. I’ll go sleep downstairs tonight, then Ellie can get off my back for volunteering her room to you.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want to be a bother—“ You protest.

“Eve, you’re not a bother. And I’m not arguing with you over it. I would feel better if you were here, so stay— for me.” His protective side takes over, asserting that this isn’t up for debate.

“Okay. I won’t argue— I’ll stay here.” Sitting yourself down on the edge of the bed, you look up to where he’s standing in the doorway still only in his boxers, hands secure at his waist— his features soften at the way you agree to stay.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me—“

“Joel, stay— here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Are you sure? I can wait until you’re—“

“Joel, please stay with me.”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for your body to find him once you’re both tucked under the sheets, nestling into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, fingertips slowly draw shapes over his bare chest as he stares up at the ceiling.

Sleep feels close, the long day catching up to you as you relax further into Joel’s side, but there’s so much you want to say, not really sure how to approach any question you have for him, knowing he probably has an array of his own.

“You’re thinkin’ too loudly.” The low husk to his voice interrupts your busy mind.

“I just— there’s so much to talk about. Things I want to ask, things I know I’m not ready to hear but need to know.” There’s a slight wobble in your throat. “And I’m sure you have things you want to ask too. It feels like I have to learn so much about you, while I’m still trying to cope with this still being real and true. That you’re alive and I’m lying here with you—“

His lips on your forehead soothe your bubbling anxiousness, a warmth washing over you instantly.

“How ‘bout we don’t talk about any of it tonight. We save all that for tomorrow— we’ll figure it out then.” You’re grateful he makes the decision for the both of you.

“Okay— tomorrow.”

#Joel Miller #joel miller x original character #joel miller x ofc #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #Joel Miller x ofc!genevieve #pedrostories

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