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koshkamartell · 5 months

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Training Day

summary: set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous. My first submission for @romanarose's Dead Dove December fic event, I'm so excited for this challenge!

warnings: degradation, noncon oral sex and DP, talk of anal, forced training, slut shaming, unspecified age gap between reader and the Miller brothers, manipulative Joel, mean Tommy, good cop/bad cop dynamics, brat taming, mention of pregnancy.

You had a long day at work, forced to work overtime to complete the workload left by several colleagues that were out of the office on sick leave. Your feet were aching from tottering around in your heels all day. You had spent the whole drive home fantasising about the luxurious bubble bath you were going to have once you reached the house you shared with Joel. He had finished work early today and you couldn't wait to cuddle up with him and order take out, maybe watch a movie until you passed out on the sofa curled against his chest.

But when you arrived home and walked through the front door, you were immediately met with the unmistakeable sound of company. Male company. The intermingling of loud voices, laughter, clinking of bottles, and the obnoxious commentary of some sports program playing on the television. Suspiciously similar sounds to guys night.

You frowned. Joel hadn't said anything about seeing the guys tonight. What was going?

You trotted down the hallway and into the living room, the clicking of your heels along the ground alerting whoever was there of your presence. When you appear at the entrance of the loungeroom, your heart sinks with disappontment.

Joel was sitting on the sofa, manspread with a beer in one hand, inbetween his brother Tommy and one of their friends Mike. There were two more men in the armchairs and one sprawled on the floor by the couch. When they saw you they all turned to greet you warmly.

"Hey baby," Joel said, glancing from the television to you. He took a swig of his beer. "How was work?"

"Hey." You gave him a small, tight smile. "It was long."

"Hi sweetheart," Tommy sang out, tilting his head up in a gesture of acknowledgement. He gave you one of his charming smiles, his brown eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. You always liked the younger Miller brother, the more charismatic and sociable one of the duo. "How are ya?"

"Pretty tired," you sighed softly.

You catch Tommy and two of the other men look you up and down discreetly, and you know they are checking you out. You feel strange, oddly on display. Your black skirt sits just above the knee, displaying the smooth length of your stocking clad legs. Your white blouse is fitted and accentuates your breasts, the buttons straining against your chest deliciously. You wear a smartly tailored black jacket that doesn't hide anything, instead complimenting the curves of your body. Despite not being overly revealing, you know the outfit tends to have a favourable effect on most men.

Tommy is more bolder than the other men, letting his gaze rest on your eyes as he lifts his hips ever so slightly to readjust his crotch. You blush and look away from him and clear your throat. "Uhm, so, did I miss something? Is it boys night tonight?"

"Game's on," one of the men said vaguely, as if that explained anything. You roll your eyes.

"Joel?"

Joel turns from the television to you and sees the unimpressed confusion on your face. He quickly gets up off the sofa and takes ahold of your elbow and leds you to the kitchen.

"Baby, the game's on tonight." He whispers, as if it's a secret.

"Yeah, I know. But why are the guys here watching it?"

Joel frowns slightly before a sheepish expression passes over his face. "I invited 'em here to watch it. Wanted to show 'em the new flat screen."

You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him. "We were supposed to be having a quiet night together. I wanted to get dinner and just hang out with you. We talked about it this morning, remember?"

Joel sighs deeply and rubs his palm over his face. "Shit, baby. I'm sorry, I forgot."

"Gee, thanks Joel," you grit out. "Didn't even fucking consider me before you just make plans with the guys."

"Sugar, it ain't like that," Joel says calmly, gently. "Come on now, don't be mad. You go relax and take it easy, have a bath or somethin'. I'll be up when the game is finished."

"What about dinner? I'm hungry." You pout.

Joel stares at you blankly for a moment, then clears his throat and looks at the ground.

"What? Joel?"

He rubs the back of his neck and winces as he mumbles. "We got some pizza delivered. Didn't know what you wanted, figured you might wanna make somethin' else."

"Oh," you say flatly. A mixture of anger, disappointment and hurt swirls in your chest, and it takes every bit of restraint for you not to slap Joel.

"I'm sorry, baby. I wasn't thinkin'." He says softly, looking back at you and reaching out to cradle your face. You pull away from his touch and he sighs again.

"Yeah, no problem, Joel," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your waist, feeling small and worthless. Yeah, fuck you, too.

"Can I make it up to you tomorrow night? Maybe we can go out somewhere fancy and you can wear one of those little summer dresses I like." Joel purrs at you. He's trying to be soft and placating now, his way of apologising and trying to right his mistake, to sooth the sting of his lack of consideration.

But it just makes you more angry.

The thought of you dressing up for Joel's pleasure so he can whisk you off to some restaurant to wine and dine you as a consolation prize doesn't entice you at all. Joel making a show out of seducing you into forgiving him for his lack of attention isn't what you want. Especially not after him neglecting you over the last few weeks because of a big project his company has been working on.

But now isn't the right time to argue, so instead you appease him.

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." You flash him a fake smile before turning away to go to the fridge. Joel smiles back, seemingly relieved with how the conversation turned out, and walks back to the living room. You seethe alone in the kitchen.

You hate that Joel didn't grovel for your forgiveness. You hate that he doesnt kick the guys out in favour of spending time with you, even though you know how irrational it would be. You feel spiteful and jealous. It makes you want to show Joel that he is being a neglectful asshole, prove to him that you are hot enough to get another man's attention, that if you really wanted to you could easily fall into the lap of someone more caring, more attentive.

Then an idea comes to you.

You take a serving tray from the cupboard and set a single bottle of beer on-top of it. Then you take the clip from your hair and let it fall over your shoulders, combing your fingers through the locks to give it more volume. You remove your jacket and then unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse so your cleavage spills and the lacy black trim of your bra peek out. You hurriedly search through your hand bag and retrieve one of your more expensive brands of lipstick; the vampy shade of red that you've only worn a handful of times. You carefully apply the crayon to your plump lips and smack them together.

Perfect.

A moment later you sashay from the kitchen to the lounge balancing a tray on your palm, the click of your heels echoing through the hallway.

When you enter the room once again all of them, including Joel, are too occupied by the game to divert their gaze to you. Except Tommy.

His eyes widen when he sees you. His dark brown eyes lock on yours, then slowly wander down to the swell of your breasts on show. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip slowly as he stares, a slow smirk spreading across his mouth. He spreads his legs a little wider. You notice how he is clutching his near empty beer bottle on-top of his crotch, and the way his thumb is slowly sliding over and circling the mouth of the bottle.

"Well, hello again, honey," Tommy drawls. "You playin' hostess for us tonight?"

You smile sweetly at him and bat your eyelashes coyly. "Something like that. Are you feeling thirsty, Tommy?"

"As a matter of fact, I am, little lady," Tommy purrs. He's actually fucking enjoying this, you realise. And you are starting to find that lazy, mischievous grin of his quite seductive. "How about you pass me that drink you got there?"

Here's your chance, you think. You straighten your posture so your tits pop out. You slowly slink across the living room towards him, your eyes focused on him. Tommy watches your every move intently.

You stop in front of Tommy and lean down to place the bottle of beer on the coffee table by his knee, the plush of your tits on display for him. His hand reaches out to gently caress your wrist.

"Thank you, sugar," Tommy murmurs, gazing up at you with that grin that makes your knees weak.

"Welcome, Tommy." You smile brightly.

You were too concentrated on Tommy to notice that Joel and the other men are now staring at you, too. You straighten up and walk back across the living room, not bothering to glance back at the other men in the room. As you're about to enter out into the hallway, you're shoved from behind.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin'?" Joel hisses.

You can't even turn to see his face before he manhandles you down the hallway and to the stairs. You don't need to see him to know he is pissed off, though. Joel grabs your wrist and pulls you up the stairs with impatient ire.

Shit. You didn't expect this reaction. You weren't even really sure what reaction you were wanting from Joel, or to what extent you were going to flirt with Tommy. You suddenly feel silly for the impulsive idea.

But knowing Joel, you should've really thought it through before taking such a risk. You knew he could be possessive and jealous, occasionally irrational, always quick to anger. Maybe if you'd apologise and explain yourself he would understand.

"Joel, I'm sorry, okay?" You plead desperately. His large hand is wrapped around your wrist as he drags you to the bedroom, and you try not to stumble over your own feet. "I didn't mean it."

"Too late for that now, don't you think?" Joel spits angrily.

He hauls you through the door and shoves you onto the bed roughly. The force pushes you onto your back on the mattress with a thud. You scramble to sit upright and look at Joel with wide eyes, willing him to listen to your apologies and see you're truly sorry. He slams the door shut and rounds on you.

"I didn't mean it to go that far," you blabber. "I'm sorry, really--"

"Shut up," he snarls, glaring at you with any iciness in his dark brown eyes. "Shut the hell up."

With tears welling in your eyes, you purse your lips and look down in your lap, gingerly rubbing the stinging red skin of your wrist. You know you're in deep trouble. The rage radiating off of him is palpable, filling the room with an electric kind of energy that makes your gut anxious. Joel stands with his hands of his hips, his nostrils flaring, his face twisted in a scowl.

Oh, he's mad, alright. Really fucking mad.

"Just what did you think you were doin'?" He growls. "You think that little fuckin' stunt you pulled was funny?"

You quickly shake your head and a tear slips and falls into your lap. You can tell by the harsh drawl of his voice that he won't accept your answer anyway, too consumed by his anger to even try go comprehend the reasons behind your behaviour tonight.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Joel barks. "So hungry for attention you gotta go flirt with my goddamn brother? Is that it?"

"I just wanted your attention, Joel," you argue back.

"That mean you gotta act like a slut infront of all my friends?" He retorts sharply.

A slut, seriously? Just from a little flirting? You scoff and get up off the bed, slightly unsteady on your heels but prepared to storm out and leave the house for the rest of the night.

But you don't get that far. Joel doesn't let you even reach the door before he lunges and wraps his hand firmly around your throat. It stops you in your tracks and you gasp in shock. Joel yanks you back to face him. You squirm and try to escape even though you know you can't; the strength he possesses in one hand far outweighs the strength you have within your entire body.

"Stop," Joel barks. "Fuckin' stop movin'."

He squeezes your pulse point in warning and you quickly obey, stilling in his grasp like captured prey. His dark eyes wander carefully over your face, as if assessing you. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"You know I love you, baby," Joel scowls with reproach. "But goddamn, why do you provoke me into hurtin' you?"

Joel releases your neck from his grip and you swallow thickly, the bundle of tangles nerves thick and cloying in your throat. You love when Joel is dominant, when he is a little rough and commanding during sex; but his demeanour right now, coupled with the menacing way he towers over you, has your thighs trembling. He is so close and he's never looked so pissed towards you. It scares you.

Joel's fingers skate over your collarbone and down to the crease of your cleavage. "Thought you'd get your pretty little tits out, huh? Show the guys how lucky I am to have you?" His voice is soft but there is no gentleness to it. It is taunting, dripping with cruel condescension.

You shake your head. No, you want to say, I just wanted to show you what was waiting for you.

"Nuh-huh," Joel tuts, "no lyin' now."

"I wasn't lying."

Joel grabs a handful of your hair at the base of your scalp and tugs it so that your head tilts back. The move is swift and painful and has your eyes pricking with tears instantly. You sob loudly.

"Yes, okay!" You admit. "I was trying to make you jealous! I was angry at you!"

Joel scoffs. "What? Ya think showin' off your body like some kinda whore is a good idea? Just cos you're angry with me?" He sneers at you.

You shake your head tightly.

"So what, you like men lookin' at you? Seein' what's mine?"

"No, Joel," you whimper. "Just want you."

Joel huffs a laugh. He releases your hair and takes a step backward to let his eyes roam over your body. All you can do is stand still, frozen on the spot, your eyes brimming with hot tears. The darkness in his brown orbs is disconcerting as he studies you, causing a stab of fear twists in your stomach. Whatever is going on in his mind is not wholesome or loving or kind.

Joel grabs onto the collar of your shirt with both his hands and rips it apart with alarming agility, the buttons flying off and the material ruined. You squeal. He wrenches the shirt from your arms and it falls to the ground, leaving you in your skirt and lacy black bra.

"Joel, what're you doing?!" You shriek. He gives a little shrug and cracks his neck.

"If you wanna act like a slut, you can dress like one." He says matter of factly.

The coldness in his voice spurs you to move. You try to weave past him and spring to the door to escape, but Joel wraps his strong arm around your waist and captures you. He is so powerful that bringing you to a halt is easy, like he's swatting a fly. You squirm and yell and beat his chest with your fists but it's no use.

"Seems like I gotta train you to act right," Joel mutters. His hand holds you steady at the waist while you struggle. "Walkin' around here flirtin' with whatever man will look your way, right in front of me, fuck sake. Like a little bitch in heat."

His words sting. How dare he say these things about you when he was the one to provoke you, to ignore your feelings and needs so selfishly?

You reach up and slap him. "Fuck you, Joel!"

Joel's face turns slightly to the side from the impact of your smack.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

That was a mistake, and you realise it straight away.

His jaw ticks for a moment. Joel slowly turns his head back to the centre to face you. His eyes appear black now, glinting with a sadistic iciness that makes you whimper and shrink away. He lets go of your waist and you quickly back away from him.

Joel momentarily shuts his eyes as he inhales a deep breath and then exhales, as if trying to centre himself. "Fuckin' knew it," he mutters to himself. "Too fuckin' young and stupid to know how to behave."

He opens his eyes again and narrows his gaze down at you.

"This is what's gonna happen. You're gonna listen to what I say and do exactly what I tell you." He commands firmly. He doesn't wait for you to respond. "Take off your skirt."

You stare at him defiantly.

"Do it," he says through clenched teeth.

When you don't move, Joel reaches out and lands a slap across your face. You wobble on your heels. Your head jerks to the side and you cry out in shock, your ear ringing from the impact. You cradle your stinging cheek.

"Take off the fuckin' skirt.'

The tears are cascading down your cheeks now. Dumbed by the shock of Joel's slap, you shakily unzip your skirt and let it fall to your ankles. You are left only in your bra and matching thong, along with your stockings and heels. Although Joel has seen you naked many times before, the energy and emotion surrounding this moment is starkly different - you feel weak and exposed, not at all sexy or aroused. You stare down at the carpet with your palm still cupping your cheek.

"Good girl," he murmurs. "Now, where's that cute lil cheerleader outfit you got?"

You frown and lift your head to look at him. He's surely not talking about the costume you brought last year, the sexy cheerleader costume you surprised him with one night?

Joel looks at you with raised eyebrows expectantly.

Oh. He does mean that costume.

"Its in the closet, to the left." You whisper.

Joel slides open the closet and rummages through your clothes until he finds the set. It hangs neatly on the coathanger; a tight white crop top with the words "babygirl" written in pink block font, and a very short pleated pink skirt to match. You remember how crazy it had driven Joel to see you dressed and roleplaying as a slutty cheerleader, something he'd always fantasised about. It was exciting and fun. But now, as Joel holds it out for you to take from him, there's nothing fun about wearing it again. Not in this situation.

"There. Put on that skirt." Joel orders you. You dare to look at his face.

"I dont want to," you say weakly.

"Aint got a choice in the matter, sweetheart." Joel clicks his tongue. "Gotta suffer some kinda consequences for your bratty behaviour. Gotta teach you some life lessons. Can't have the boys thinkin' you're a cock starved little slut whose daddy can't control her."

"I don't care what they think!" you snap at him.

Joel suddenly clutches your face inbetween his thumb and fingers and squeezes your cheeks, silencing you. "Stop fuckin' arguin' and put on the damn skirt. Now!"

Joel gives your face a tight shake before letting go. You are weeping freely now. You take the hanger from him and put the skirt on, stepping into it and slipping it up and over your legs. It is incredibly short, only covering a few inches of your thighs, the bottom of your ass cheeks exposed. You go to remove the tank top from the hanger but Joel stops you. Even with your blearly vision you can recognise the lust written on his features, the feral hunger in his eyes.

"Don't need it," he mutters. "Look like a perfect lil whore just like this."

Your cheeks heat at his words. "What now?"

"Look at the mirror." Joel growls.

When you dont move fast enough, Joel grabs your upper arm and hauls you towards the full length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He stands behind you and positions you directly infront of the mirror. Joel's front is flush against your back and you can feel his hard cock poking your ass through his jeans. With horror, you realise he is actually fucking enjoying this, and what's more, he finds it arousing. His hand snakes around your front and palms one of your breasts.

You watch your reflection. Mascara is streaked down your flushed cheeks, your lipstick is slightly smeared around your mouth, and your lips are swollen from Joel's slap and the tears you've shed. Your vacant expression coupled with the scant outfit you wear makes you look like a cheap whore, you think. Joel smirks at you when your gaze meets his, as if he can read your exact thoughts.

"Pretty little thing," Joel whispers, his mouth close to the shell of your ear, his beard lightly tickling your skin. His large calloused hand squeezes your breast roughly. "'Specially when you're bein' obedient. Shoulda been more tough on ya from the beginnin', trained you properly from the first time you took my cock."

You glare at Joel in the mirror. "I'm not your damn dog, Joel."

He suddenly bites the side of your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin. It is painful and sharp, making you scream. Then he relaxes his jaw and begins sucking hard, bursting capillaries and bruising your flesh.

"Stop!" You beg. You thrash around and his grip on your breast tightens. Joel's other hand tangles in your hair and wrenches your head backwards. "Fucking hurts, Joel!"

Joel breaks the seal of his mouth on your neck with a wet pop, then licks at the dark reddish purple spot that is left in its place. "Needa know whose boss here, baby," he rasps. "If I gotta treat you like a dog for you to learn, then I will."

You sob helplessly. The strength has drained from your body and you subconsciously relax back against him. Joel hums in approval, taking this as a sign of you accepting defeat, of your submission to him. He loosens the hold on your hair so your head flops forward and your eyes meet his in the mirror.

"So here's how this is gonna go," Joel says cooly, "If you don't do what I say, then you'll be punished. Simple as that."

"Punished how?" You dare to mumble, wondering what could be worse than the slap or his bite. Joel chuckles darkly and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Trust me, darlin', you don't wanna fuck around and find out. I got no problem turnin' you into my own personal fucktoy and violatin' every one of your little holes. And when I'm through punishin' ya, you're gonna wish you never opened your fuckin' mouth."

This cannot be happening, your mind screams. How could this possibly be Joel, your Joel, who is usually so soft spoken and caring and kind to you? Has he been hiding his true nature this whole time?

"And so when I say kneel, you're gonna drop to your knees. Aint that right?" Joel murmurs.

You nod halfheartedly. A smile of satisfaction spreads across his face and he smooths his hand over your hair affectionately.

"Now, turn around and get on the ground and kneel."

Your mind is muddled, unable to process just what is happening and unable to move your body quick enough for his liking. Joel sighs and twists your nipple through the lacy material of your bra, causing you to squeal and buck your body forward.

"What'd I just fuckin' say?" He growls lowly, impatient.

The pain snaps you into action. You weep as you turn around and carefully lower yourself to kneel on the carpet. You bow your head, meek and dejected, while Joel unfastens his belt and unbuckles it.

"I'm the only man you look at, the only man you serve." He tells you while pulling his belt from the loops of his jeans. "You'll keep your eyes to the ground whenever Tommy or the guys are over. And you'll speak only to me. You got that?"

You nod miserably. It's only when you feel Joel's warm calloused hands on your neck that your head snaps up to look at him, panicked and confused. He bends down and deftly slips the leather strap around your neck and pulls it tight, taut enough that it isn't cutting off your oxygen supply but still serving as a threat. You whimper and your bottom lip quivers.

"Joel, what are you doing?" You whisper through tears. You are desperate to know what his intentions are for making you dress this way, why his belt is around your neck, what is he planning on 'teaching' you.

"Gotta do it, baby," he murmurs and strokes your cheek with his large thumb. "This ain't just for my benefit, either. I'm doin' this to protect you, sugar. There's plenty of guys out there that won't hesitate to abuse you and throw you away once they've got what they want. Ain't no other man who will protect you and love you like I do. And I'm gonna prove it to ya."

He gives the belt an experimental tug. "Come on, we're goin' downstairs."

You want to protest and refuse, to put up a fight, but you also don't want to face the wrath of defying Joel. So when he moves toward the bedroom door with the end of the belt firmly in his hand, you crawl on your hands and knees behind him. He takes you to the stairs, and you feel more and more degraded with each burning shuffle of your knees across the carpet.

Downstairs the house is quiet. The low hum of the football game is the only thing audible to your ears. It's as if everyone has left. You're not sure what is going on, but when Joel leads you to the living room you stop suddenly.

"Joel, no!" you whine. You can't face the men dressed like this, crawling on the ground like an animal on a leash. Joel wouldn't really force you to do that, would he?

"You're okay, baby, just trust me." He says calmly. He jerks the belt tightly and you have no choice but to continue behind him.

When you both enter the living room, you're surprised to find that the only person left is Tommy - the other men have disappeared, no where to be seen. When Tommy sees you and Joel he quickly jumps up from the couch.

"What the hell is goin' on here, Joel?" Tommy demands. He frowns as his eyes dart from you to Joel. You stare at the floor, ashamed.

"Had to have a bit of a talk with my girl," Joel grunts. "Where'd the guys go?"

"I told 'em to go to the bar and we'd meet 'em there. But her," Tommy gestures to you. "Bit of a talk, Joel? About what? You got a belt around her neck like a damn dog!" Tommy snaps at the older brother. "Why's she dressed like that?"

Joel gives a slight shrug of his thick shoulders. "She didn't give me a choice, Tom. Said she was flirtin' with you and puttin' on a show cos she was pissed off with me. I had to put her in her place. "

Tommy's mouth drops open and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Joel mutters resolutely.

There's a few long moments of silence as Tommy seems to process the reality of the situation before him.

"Can't let her be doin' that shit," you hear Joel whisper. "Gonna need your help here, Tommy."

You glance up to see the men looking at one another as if in mutual contemplation, like they are silently communicating with each other.

"I hear ya," Tommy whispers back. Then he shakes his head and let's out a wry chuckle. He no longer looks concerned for you or outraged at Joel. Infact, he looks amused, and it makes you feel sick.

"Tryin' to get you jealous cos you made her angry?" Tommy muses with a smirk.

"Yeah. So I told her I'll be teachin' her a few things. Like how she can't walk around actin' like a desperate slut, unless she wants to be treated like one." Joel mutters. He sounds so nonchalant and cold, speaking about you as if you were a disobediant pet. It's humiliating.

Tommy tilts his head to the side and smiles down at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming with roguish excitement. "So you were just teasin' me? Can't say I ain't disappointed. Was startin' to think I finally had a chance with ya, sweetheart."

Shame heats your cheeks and you look down at your fingers as they figet with the hem of your skirt.

"But my big brother's right, you know," Tommy adds conversationally. "Ya can't be showin' off your goodies to just any guy for attention. Wrong person could really take advantage of you."

Despite not looking at Tommy you're listening intently to every word he's saying. Joel hums in agreement.

"And ya know what? I'm feelin' generous today, sweetheart. I'm gonna help you remember to be a good girl, okay? Show ya just what could happen if you're not careful."

"What...what are you going to do to me?" You ask meekly.

Tommy chuckles but there is no mirth or warmth in his tone. "Don't you worry about a thing, Joel knows I'm a great teacher."

Your mind screams at you to run but you can't.

A minute later Joel is standing with his back against the wall and his arms folded, his biceps straining under the material of his shirt. His eyes are fixed on you, his expressjon unreadable. You are still kneeling, but this time you're positioned in front of Tommy. He has sat back down on the couch with his legs spread wide, only now his jeans are pulled down his thighs and his hard cock stands naked. He fists himself with languid strokes as he stares at you. His other hand holds the end of Joel's belt.

"Come closer and suck my cock, honey." Tommy croons. "Show me what that sweet lil mouth can do."

You turn your head to look back at Joel. "Joel," your voice warbles, "please, I'm sorry, don't make me do this."

He just shakes his head stoically. Tommy jerks the belt sharply to redirect your focus back to him.

"Come on, I'm bein' gentle with ya right now," Tommy admonishes. "But I ain't playin' around, kid. Suck my dick."

He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and angles the fat wet head slightly downwards toward you.

"Do it, baby," you hear Joel encourage you softly. "Show me how sorry you are."

You sniffle and let out a shuddering sigh. You're still not exactly sure how this is supposed to be teaching you a lesson, but you're determined to prove yourself to Joel. Because you love him too much to let him go, because you'd do anything to make him happy, even if that means letting yourself be degraded by him and his brother.

You creep forwards a little more so you're right in between Tommy's legs and close to his cock. You purposely avoid meeting his stare; you want to get this over and done with quickly, and hope that by treating it like a chore, a task without intimacy, it will be easier to endure. You open your mouth and give the head of Tommy's cock a kitten lick.

"Come on, no more teasin'," Tommy drawls.

You obey and lick a long stripe up the underside of his length, making him moan lowly. He isn't as big as Joel but he's still well endowed, still thick and veiny. You press a few wet kisses along his shaft, your red lipstick smearing across his skin.

"That's it, sweetie," Tommy sighs, his voice rough with lust. "Put it in your mouth now."

You open your lips and take the head into your mouth, then begin to suck. Tommy brings his hand to your head and grasps a hank of your hair to gently coax you to bob further down. You follow his silent instruction but feel yourself start to zone out, your mind drifting.

You can do this.

Then the warm touch of Joel's hands slide over your thighs and your ass, his rough skin prickling along the sheer nylon of your stockings, and you realise he's now crouched behind you on one knee. You freeze. What's he doing now?

"It's okay babydoll," he cooes. "Keep goin', you're doin' so good."

Tommy bucks his hips a bit to puntuacte Joel's command. You continue to suck around Tommy's cock, bobbing your head up and down lazily, only taking him halfway inside your mouth. You're too absorbed with Joel's hands caressing your ass to really pay attention to Tommy. You still don't look at him, instead focusing your gaze on his stomach.

Then you hear the tearing sound of your stockings as Joel suddenly rips the material apart with both hands, leaving a large hole at the crotch. He yanks your thong to the side and you feel his fingers splay open your pussy lips from behind. Your pussy clenches involuntarily and your body tenses. You make a muffled noise of alarm.

"It's just me, baby," Joel whispers soothingly.

"Think I've given her enough time, brother?" Tommy interjects above you, the amusement in his voice evident. "Think I've been plenty patient."

"Yeah," Joel mutters in response. "She's ready."

Ready for what?

Your mind buzzes with dread. You start to pull off Tommy but his grip on your hair tightens.

"Hey, where you think you're goin'?" Tommy laughs. "We're just gettin' started, sugar. Now open your mouth wide like the little whore you are."

Tommy suddenly pushes your head down onto his cock forcefully, stuffing your mouth full of his girth. You splutter and choke on him, tears immediately pricking your eyes. You flatten your palms on his legs and try to push away from him but he holds your head still.

"Fuck yeah, there we go," Tommy groans. "Right in there."

He restrains you for a few more moments, then yanks you off of him. You gasp and cough, lungs burning. You barely have a moment to recover before you feel the head of Joel's cock prodding the entrance of your pussy. Joel gives you no opportunity to protest; he pushes himself inside your pussy in one swift, agonising stroke, stretching your hole so painfully that you scream raggedly.

Tommy laughs. "Aw, that hurt ya, sugar?"

Joel remains buried fully inside you as he sinks his hands into the flesh of your hips to stabilise himself. "Always so tight," Joel grunts. "Usually work her open first."

"You're a lucky man, brother," Tommy grins. He takes his dick and rubs the tip over your lips, smearing more of your red lipstick. "Me and the guys still can't believe you get to fuck this sweet lil thing."

You sob and screw your eyes shut. Joel slowly rocks his hips back and forth in an effort to stretch you out, gradually letting you adjust. Your body trembles uncontrollably while you whimper loudly.

"You're alright, baby," Joel murmurs. "It's okay, you're doin' so good for me."

You hear Tommy scoff.

"Stop bein' soft on her, man," Tommy barks. He gives you a sharp slap on the side of your face and you wail. "She's gonna finish what she fuckin' started."

Using both hands to hold your head in place, Tommy shoves his dick back into your mouth and begins pumping his hips rapidly. He fucks your face with short brutal thrusts, the head of his cock knocking the back of your throat with each stroke. You struggle to breathe around him and clutch the bunched material of jeans around his thighs. Your eyes are still shut tight as the tears run freely down your face.

Joel continues to fuck you at an unhurried pace, your pussy slowly adjusting to the unexpected intrusion. Although his movements are not anywhere near as rough as Tommy's, the mere sensation of fullness borders on overwhelming. You feel surrounded by them, your body possessed by them, split open and violated like you're an object, a toy. The room is filled with the sounds of Tommy's panting, Joel's heavy breathing, and the obscenely wet gagging noises your throat makes. If your stomach wasn't empty you'd surely vomit all over him.

Tommy is rentless as he fucks your mouth. He doesn't give a shit that you cannot properly breathe, and you fear you may pass out.

"Oh shit," Joel moans, his voice deep and rumbling. "Pussy fuckin' squeezin' me so good."

Tommy slams his hips into your face so that his entire cock is buried down your throat, and stills. Your throat constricts around him as your body is robbed of air. Joel's fingernails dig painfully into your flesh.

"How about now?" Tommy asks Joel with a breathless laugh. "She get tighter?"

"Uh-huh," Joel moans. "Chokin' me like a fuckin' virgin." His hips start to move faster and he begins to slam into you with more force, getting lost in the intense pleasure of defiling your body.

"Yeah? Well she's chokin' on my dick like a fuckin' pro." Tommy releases you with a sigh.

You cough miserably and try to suck in gulps of air. Tommy gathers the saliva dripping from your abused mouth with his fingers and rubs it over your face.

"Stop!" You manage to screech through the rawness of your throat. You use all your might to rear your upper body back. "Stop it! Joel, please!"

Joel slows his thrusts hesitantly, but doesn't halt altogether. You wish you could see his face, wish you could read his expression; maybe he would take pity on you if he could see how wrecked and sorry you are. His thumbs stroke your hips lightly, as if reassuring you he's still there, that the man you love so much is still with you.

"Joel," you sob pathetically, hoarsely.

"Baby," Joel drawls. His voice is thick and slurred, the way it gets when he is engrossed in pleasure while fucking you. "Ain't finished yet. Just a little longer, I promise."

"I can't!"

"Oh no," Tommy suddenly growls. "I ain't done with you yet, bitch. Joel might be soft with ya, but I don't give a fuck how much you beg."

He grabs the back of your head and manhandles you back toward his cock. He takes advantage of the split second when you open your mouth to take in a breath of air and then shoves his cock past your lips. He begins brutally fucking your mouth again, simultaneously pumping his hips and moving your face in a punishing rhythm.

"Won't be lookin' for another man's attention now," Tommy pants heavily, "not after I fill that throat."

Joel's hips pick up speed and he drives his cock faster in and out of you. He doesn't speak though, seemingly too preoccupied with fucking you doggystyle to add to his brother's words. The slap of his skin against yours echoes around the living room. He isn't fucking you as hard as he usually does; this tempo feels almost tender and loving, like he's going easy on you, a small gesture mercy. A few groans and moans slip from his mouth, but otherwise he remains a quiet dominating presence behind you.

You can't do anything but allow Tommy to violate and bruise your throat. It only takes couple of minute for him to reach his climax, although it feels like forever to you. He grunts loudly, like an animal, as his dick pulses and a warm load of semen shoots into your mouth. When he pulls out you are quick to swallow it, desperate to be able to breathe unobstructed once more. You splutter and sob, your windpipe thick with cum and tears and pleghm.

Joel orgasms soon after. You feel his cock throb and then spurt hot ropes of cum deep inside your pussy. You clench around him and moans rumble through his chest.

"Good girl," he says breathlessly. He pats your hip.

Tommy rolls his eyes and shoves you backwards to stand up from the couch. He pulls up his jeans and underwear and tucks his softening dick back into his underwear. He tsks as he wipes his red stained fingers on his jeans.

"Messy little whore," Tommy mutters to himself.

Joel removes the belt from your neck gingerly and lets it fall to the ground. He then withdraws from you and stands, his knees cracking as he straightens up. The abscence of his large frame bracketing you makes you collapse on the carpet, body weak and wracking with shivers, wanting so badly to be swallowed up by the ground disappear completely.

Tommy scoffs and stares down at you with cold hate in his eyes, a frightening juxtaposition to the sweet Tommy you have always known.

"Stupid cunt," Tommy snarls with disgust. "Next time ya even think about playin' up, remember how I wrecked your mouth." He fastens his belt, the large metal bullhead buckle glinting. "Joel's the only man who'd ever put up with your bullshit. If I were him, I'd throw ya out on the street, let the fuckin' dogs have you."

He steps over you, uncaring as his boot treads on your hair, and murmers something quiet to Joel. Joel responds but you can't hear what is said. Then Tommy walks out of the room and leaves the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

The house is deathly silent apart from your heavy breathing and weeping. Your throat feels raw and scratchy, and your lips feel puffy and sore. Joel's cum is beginning to seep out from your pussy but you can't bring yourself to move.

"How ya feelin', baby girl?" Joel asks as he crouches down beside you. His large hands smooth the hair from your face and his big puppy dog eyes roam over you, studying you closely. "Are you okay?"

When you don't move or verbally respond, Joel slips his hands underneath your body and lifts you into his arms. He grumbles with exertion and his joints crack when he stands up to carry you out of the room. Your head rests instictively against his broad chest and one of your hands clutches at the collar of his shirt.

"I want you to get in the shower and get yourself clean," he instructs you sternly. "But don't take too long."

Joel carries you up the stairs and you feel like a broken doll in his strong arms. He reaches the bathroom but just before he is about to set you down, you whine pitifully.

"I'm sorry," you croak tearfully. "I won't do it again."

Joel sighs and carefully deposits you to stand on the tiled floor. You wobble like a newborn foal on your heels and he steadies you with his hand around your arm. A gush of his cum runs down your inner thigh.

"I know you won't," he admits. "Because if you do, I'm gonna fuck your ass so hard you won't be able to sit for a week. Might even let Tommy or one of the others have a go, too."

"No!" You grip his shirt tightly in your fist and shake your head vehemently. You stare at Joel with wide, panicked eyes. The thought of either brother punishing your ass terrifies you. You've only tried anal once with Joel, and his dick was too thick and fat to even breach your asshole. He was understanding when you cried and told him to stop. He has been wanting to try again but you haven't been ready yet, and although he has been patient, you know deep down he desperately desires to claim your ass. And after tonight, you know Tommy wouldn't hesitate to stick his cock in without any preparation. He would most likely get off on your screams, the mess, the blood. It sends a shiver up your back.

"You've learnt your lesson?" Joel cocks an eyebrow at you inquisitively.

You nod eagerly. "Yes Joel, yes. I swear, I promise I won't do anything like that again."

He nods, satisfied, and gives you an affectionate slap on your ass.

"Get cleaned up and wash your mouth out. I'm stayin' home to watch the game. And I want you downstairs pourin' me a glass of whiskey in ten minutes. Understood?"

"Yes, Joel," you whisper timidly. His jaw ticks as he gives you one last, lingering look.

"Good girl," Joel drawls. Then he stalks away, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You start the shower and stare at your reflection while you unclasp your bra. Your red rimmed eyes are glassy. Your cheeks are filthy with the remanents of smudged mascara and lipstick. Your lips are swollen and bruised.

You look used and broken.

Your eyes wander down to your stomach and you have to bite back a sob.

It has only been 6 weeks. Joel doesn't know yet. You wanted to tell him tonight, but obviously that plan didn't end up happening.

You have to wonder if Joel would've still let Tommy hurt you like he did, if he had known.

You quickly dismiss the question and step into the hot shower. You scrub your body zealously with a soapy loufa and wash your mouth out thoroughly with water and mouthwash. You worked quickly, mindful not to be any longer than necessary, just as Joel had instructed you. He needed you to serve him and you couldn't keep him waiting.

After all, you had learnt your lesson.

The end.

I hope you guys liked it! A massive thank you to the legendary @romanarose for coming up with Dead Dove December and for giving dark content writers a safe space to explore and share their work.

#joel miller dark #dark!joelmiller #dddne #deaddovedecember2023 #tw noncon #dark!tommymiller #joel miller #dark! joel miller

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vanillabourbon · 7 months

Text

the first of many. | chapter one | ongoing tlou series

story summary. joel arrives at Jackson twenty years after the outbreak with a young girl that cares for him just as much as he cares for her. little did he know, he would soon meet someone else that would urge his returning sense of humanity one step further.

chapter one warnings. i'm starting to realize this is going to be a slowburn, sorry friends.

story pairings. joel miller x reader, tommy miller x platonic!reader

words. 7873

Chapter One. The Prodigal Son.

Jackson, Wyoming. 2023.

It was a brutal winter. Jackson sat in a valley, leaving many, including you, to assume the brute of every storm would pass without much consequence. Of course, this once, you were wrong.

The nights were cold. Sometimes the following night was even colder. The indoors weren’t so bad, but you couldn’t help but to think of the bitter, chilly air while lying alone – awake for an unknown number of hours – in your bedroom. Every creak and groan of the house you took refuge in had long since gone silent whenever the wind died down at this hour. If solitude had a brink, you were sure this would be it.

The only noise you heard was the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock somewhere in the hallway. It was loud, repetitive to a fault, and the last thing you wanted to hear when another sleepless night led to the start of your patrol week. Every slow blink of your heavy eyelids only interrupted the path your eyes traced along the speckled ceiling above you. Every tick reminding you of all the times you forgot to ask Tommy to help you remove the clock from your house instead of spending your nights wondering who lived here before you.

Before the outbreak. Before the world fell to pieces.

The ticking was never the only noise. Not for long, of course. Jackson was stirring awake. Front doors were shutting and little children were already laughing. Despite the cold, despite the frostbitten fingers and cracked lips, despite the outside world staving off infected, every child-like sound and rumble of snow removal felt mind-numbingly similar to a world you’d almost forgotten.

Or maybe a world you wanted to forget. Even now you still couldn't decide.

Your thoughts were on repeat, just like the clock. And yet the clock was still louder. Much louder. Every second passed was excruciating. You willed yourself to be thoughtless. Every night you fought to quiet your mind … to no avail. Without the need or constant threat of surviving another day, there was nothing to displace a constant line of thinking that never failed to bring about a quiet discontent.

Eventually, you noticed the rhythm of the clock’s ticking coincided with every tap of your finger against your bed frame. Your back dug into the mattress, pressing yourself deeper and deeper into it as if your bed would swallow you whole. You ignored the sudden sounds of boots climbing up the stairs of your front porch as you forced yourself to stop tapping.

A well-timed, and fully expected, knock at your door did nothing to draw your gaze from the ceiling. Not at first. You knew who was on the other side of that door, and you also knew you didn’t want to hear a thing from Maria about being late to patrol. It was either bite the bullet now or later.

With a soft grunt, you chose now.

You hoisted yourself out of bed and ambled over to your opened closet. While you made quick work of changing your clothes, another round of sharp knocks – thump, thump, thump – echoed throughout your house. Insistent. Unrelenting. But still substantially polite.

Only Tommy, you thought. Only Tommy.

–

Before making your way to the front door, you slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a leftover apple you snagged from the dining hall. Strictly for appearances. You wanted to seem like you’d just awoken, that you’d started having a light breakfast before patrol. You weren’t unaware of Tommy’s ability to appear more oblivious than he actually was.

He’d notice. He always did.

You opened the door shortly after his fifth knock. The two of you made eye contact, already very much aware of the other’s intentions.

“I wasn’t going to miss check-in,” you stated, taking a pointed bite out of your apple. “I was just getting ready. Thinking about some new patrol routes to run by Colby before we leave.”

Colby, your patrol partner and ever the golden boy. No one thought twice of your word when you mentioned him, least of all Tommy.

You took a step back, acknowledging Tommy’s entrance, before grabbing your boots and walking toward the adjacent living room. Tommy closed your front door softly before following you. Slowly. Eyeing you as if he was trying to figure out how to broach an inevitable subject.

He shuffled forward, choosing to lean against the wall instead of sitting down next to you. It felt condescending. Wary. “I didn’t come here for that. You know that.”

You held your apple in your mouth as you shimmied a boot onto your foot. You raised your brow in question, trying to act as oblivious as you hoped you looked.

Tommy eyed you for a long moment before sighing. “You didn’t come by for breakfast again.”

You plucked the apple out of your mouth. “I overslept.”

“You never oversleep.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of eating breakfast with Maria.” Your defiant, tight-lipped smile immediately vanished at Tommy’s hurt expression. Your chest deflated. “ … And you.”

He frowned. “What?”

“With the baby coming, you two need to spend as much time together as possible, Tommy. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“You wouldn’t.” Tommy tried to give you a meaningful look, but you kept your eyes down. Your fingers worked to lace up your boot in the sudden silence. “Nothing’s going to change.”

“Everything’s going to change, Tommy. Everything has changed. And that’s alright. At least one of us had to relearn how to build some kind of a life.”

“You’re always welcome for breakfast. That’s never going to change.”

You let the silence drone on, using the need to put on your other boot as much needed time to think of what to say. Preferably how to change the subject. You took another bite of your apple before placing it on the coffee table in front of you.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before settling on a change in subject. “Yeah, well, I told myself that I’m going to start eating in the dining hall with Colby.”

“Thought you didn’t like Colby. You said he talked too much.”

“Yeah, so do you. I got used to that real quick. I’m sure I can give Colby the same benefit.”

Tommy let out a short laugh. “How is the new partner, anyway? First one who hasn’t switched on you since we were partners.”

“Are you saying I’m hard to be with?”

It was clear it was growing difficult to suppress a smile, but Tommy fought it well. “No,” he replied slowly. “I’m only saying. Seems nice enough. A good fit for ya.”

You finally caught on to his insinuation. The threat of something more – something intimate – made you recoil sharply. “Don’t, Tommy.”

“I’m just saying. He’s nice – a good man.”

“We patrol together, Tommy. And half the people in Jackson are ‘nice.’ Nice comes from losing so much.”

Almost instantly, you regretted making the conversation turn for the worse, but Tommy’s always been quick. He was leaning against the wall so openly, so casually, shoving his hands in his pockets with a familiar, disarming smile in less than a minute.

“You mentioned something about new patrol routes. Something happen?” You went quiet for a minute, standing to shoulder your jacket that’d been draped over the sofa. You ignored the few steps it took for him to cross the living room and stand in front of you. He helped you with your jacket without question. “You know if something happened, you and Colby have to report it.”

“I know, Tommy.” With a mutter, you added, “You sound like Maria.”

He paused, forcing you to look at him. “If something happened, you have to tell me.”

“Nothing happened, Tommy. Honest. Other than tripping and falling in the old warehouse, nothing’s happened.” You zipped your jacket and faced him fully, looking into his eyes with sudden sincerity. “Sometimes we all just need a change. In pace. In scenery. Just a change, Tommy. That’s all it is.”

Tommy’s response was slow … and then not at all. His mouth opened slightly before closing altogether.

You tilted your head, puckering your lips in annoyance. “You want me to run it by Maria.”

Nearly imperceptible, Tommy sucked in a breath, weighing his decision before shaking his head. “No. Not as long as you stick to the usual route most of the time. You know how they are around here. Real –”

“ – protective of this place. I know, I know. You remind me every day.” You gave him a small smile. A genuine one this time. “Deal.”

He shook his head, smiling like the over-tolerant man he tended to be with you. “C’mon, we’ve still got time to run by the dining hall.”

“We?”

“I’ve got time; I’m helping fix up some of the buildings today. You can eat a proper breakfast, and, if you’ve got new routes to share with Colby –,” he paused, ambling over to your front door and gesturing for you to follow close behind, “ — then I wanna hear ‘em.”

With that, the walk toward the door was already filled with Tommy’s habit for talking. It was clear his mind was elsewhere – on Maria, on the baby, on the state of Jackson. He had a habit like that, talking about the things that were clearly on his mind while trying to defect to other conversations to keep the solemnity of it all to a minimum.

You’d almost thank him for it. Almost.

It was always nice to hear regular conversation, as if the world wasn’t burning, and had burned, outside of everything that currently surrounded you. Tommy was good at that – a constant reminder that no matter how bad things were, there was always something, seemingly inconsequential, that could bring light to the seriousness of it all. Of everything, really. You liked that.

That’s why you let him talk and didn’t immediately wipe the growing smile that traced your lips.

“ – and I’ll probably work less, once the baby comes. Marie and I have already decided that,” he was saying. Your smile dropped, then.

It all felt strange – inane. Like everyone and everything was trying to rebuild something that wasn’t meant to be rebuilt. And children. Children were the last thing that should be brought into a world like this.

But he was Tommy, and you would be remiss not to share in his happiness.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, eyes barely leaving the ground, as you reached for the door knob. “Yeah, sounds great, Tommy. Happy for you.”

You eyed him for a moment, a smile threatening every inch of your countenance, but you shoved it down as soon as you opened the door. Your patrol partner, Colby, stood on your front porch, arm outstretched mid-knock, and wide eyes trained on the both of you. His tall, lanky figure stood awkwardly in your doorway.

Tommy stopped, mid stride, conversation dropping immediately and a wide grin spreading rapidly.

“Well, looks like we didn’t have to go lookin’ very far,” Tommy said, humorously bumping your shoulder as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He nodded in greeting, “Colby.”

“Tommy.” Colby nodded, looking between you and his raised fist before dropping his hand entirely. “I – um – I couldn’t find you at the dining hall. I thought I should swing by to check on you before our shift.”

Tommy’s eyes slid toward you with a smirk, muttering, “Well, ain’t that sweet.”

Colby’s hopeful expression was almost unbearable. For a moment, you tried for a smile, but you were sure it came across as more of a grimace. When you didn’t say anything, Tommy cleared his throat. The absence of subtlety was lost on Colby. His failure to notice your annoyance was almost as comical as his inability to tell your intention as you took a few pointed steps toward your pack hanging on a hook to your left.

You were going to leave your pack today, but you hoped it would send a message: Let’s get to the stables and start our shift. Nothing more; nothing less.

You nodded, hooking your pack across your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Without another moment, you ushered the two of them out and away from your door. Even as you fished your house key out of your pocket, you could see the warm, encouraging smile Tommy gave Colby as they walked. You made no attempt to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the sight.

The sound of your door locking tightly behind you sent you bounding down the stairs to join the two men on the street.

With a simple nod, you were going to walk right by Tommy and expect Colby to follow in your wake. But Tommy stopped you with a light hand tap to your arm.

“Careful on those new routes.”

“Always.”

He studied you for a long moment, eyes scrutinizing and stance weary. You just let him. Something in your gaze – determination, lack of fear, self-preservation – made him relax and, without warning, pull you into a side hug. You hit his side as he whispered, “Bring it in.”

You took a few measured breathes, letting yourself relax in his grasp, before you pushed yourself upright. You walked out of his embrace with another nod in his direction before heading to the stables.

You hardly noticed the way Colby looked when he fell in stride with you.

"I didn't take you for the affectionate type."

With a shrug, your clipped response was a grunted, "I'm not."

Despite yourself, Tommy's hugs were familiar, reminiscent of a time you couldn't quite place with people you couldn't quite remember. But the next time you saw Tommy, hours later, pulling another into that same kind of hug, it was suddenly different. Foreign.

Hours later, he was hugging his brother.

–

All of the air had been sucked out of the room the moment Joel Miller spoke.

Maybe we could have a moment alone, just for family, he had said.

Your immediate thought was how rude the insinuation must’ve seemed to Maria … until Joel’s gaze met yours first.

He had been in Jackson all of five minutes, and your eyes hadn’t left him since. Even now, when he and a young girl – Ellie, he had explained – sat across from you, Tommy, and Maria in the dining hall.

He looked exactly as you thought he might. You weren’t sure what it was you had been expecting from the older Miller, but the person sitting in front of you was pretty much it. Broad. Brooding. Similar to Tommy in looks and in stature, but still not quite the same. They were family, though, that was for sure.

And now he was making it very apparent that you were not.

The cold, icy feeling of isolation and neglect crept along the back of your neck at his words, bristling and tensing as his gaze fell over you for the first time. Briefly. He set his stare on Tommy after that, working his fork over what was left of his food.

He hadn’t bothered to look at you much, but you also made no effort to make your presence known. You hadn’t spoken since you'd returned from patrol and the two brothers had reunited. You hadn’t left Tommy’s side, either. The latter wasn’t unusual, of course, so there was no hesitation when you remained at his side, same as Maria. Hesitation only came when Tommy, with a slight pause, turned toward you.

In shock, you snapped your gaze from Joel to Tommy. Without the heat of your gaze, Joel’s eyes could appraise you without much risk. His eyes flitted between you and Tommy, trying but failing to understand the silent conversation that warred between the two of you. His eyes trailed from your hair to the way your fist furled and unfurled on the edge of the table. He was assessing. Gauging. His eyes were back on his plate within seconds.

Conversely, Tommy’s gaze pleaded with you, with every ounce of subtle vulnerability he could muster, with the warm, apologetic look he gave. He wanted you to do as Joel said. A sickening feeling peeled at your gut and constricted your throat at the thought.

But he and Joel were right; you weren’t family.

With an indignant sniff, you rose from your seat and left the dining hall without a single look back.

In your wake, Ellie watched your retreating figure with newfound interest. “Who’s that?”

After a moment, and a brief glance in Maria’s direction, Tommy answered with a cool smile, “A friend. We came to Jackson together. We survived together,” he paused, using his index finger to motion between Joel and Ellie, “Same as you.”

At that, Joel’s eyes momentarily slid over to the door you’d just exited from.

–

The latter half of the evening began to settle in when you heard a familiar gait approach you at the stables. You didn’t bother turning around, not initially. The sun had slipped below the hills surrounding Jackson, and you were sure you could safely spend the rest of the night alone before having to face Tommy again, or anyone really. You wanted to sift through your thoughts properly without the threat of having to speak to anyone else.

That's why you came to the stables. They're quiet. Unassuming. A good place to be alone.

You should’ve known Tommy wouldn’t let you stay that way.

It was no surprise that he knew to find you at the stables, checking the locks for the millionth time in the way you did when you could find nothing else to do with your hands. Or time.

It was cathartic, you used to always say. Made you feel like you were worth something.

“I didn’t think we rotated stable duty anymore. Not this quickly, anyway,” he called out. “Besides, I’d think you should still be sleepin’ off your patrol shift from this morning.”

You merely glanced at him over your shoulder, offering something between a scoff and a humorless laugh. “I’m just double checking. The new guys always forget something.”

“Suit yourself.” You could hear him shuffling around, trying but failing to avoid the obvious tension between the two of you. “You find anything interesting on your new route today? Was it the scenery you hoped for?”

Your back remained toward him as you mumbled something, nearly incoherent, in response. Nothing new. Different scenery, same feelings. Nothing worth over explaining … or explaining at all. Your voice faded and the silence continued until he let out a sigh.

“I wanted to apologize about earlier. I shouldn’t have made you leave. Everything was so tense –”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to apologize. I get it.”

He paused before trying again. “Everything was so tense. I thought it best to do whatever Joel said to ease it up a bit. Make ‘em feel more comfortable.”

You only nodded, and Tommy sighed again. He moved to lean against a wooden post, crossing his arms and looking at his feet. You wanted to finish checking the locks before you turned around. You thought of him, and the girl, and Joel. His brother came back, and Tommy chose to cater to him. That should be fine. That is fine. You’d probably do the same, if you could.

Joel. Something about him clung to your mind, and perhaps that was why your skin crawled and you hadn’t felt right since seeing him. You never quite thought of what to expect when you met him. If you met him. The way Tommy had dropped little pieces of information about him – here and there, in spurts and bouts – you were sure you knew the man already. But the man that had sat across from you was unforthcoming, aloof, restrained, hard to read, … stiff.

You nearly wanted to double over at the memory of Tommy once telling you that you reminded him of his brother.

Finally, you stopped idling poking around with the locks and dropped your shoulders, turning to face him. At least he could be read like a book.

“I know there’s more, Tommy. What is it? Did he tell you the real reason why he came?”

Tommy shook his head quickly. Almost too quickly. “I really do think he came to check up on me, that's all. I haven’t radioed him in a while.”

“I told you to.”

“I know. Can’t pass up an opportunity to say, ‘I told you so,’ can you?” A moment of silence. His smile died on his lips as he was forced to acknowledge the seriousness. “He wants me to take the girl.”

“What do you mean? Take her where?”

“South. The fireflies have a base in Colorado.”

“Did he tell you why?”

He looked at you – communicative yet reluctant. Like he wanted to tell you but couldn’t, and the guilt made him apologetic. You swallowed a lump forming in your throat.

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“Nope. Just that I need to take her … and I agreed.”

You nodded, weighing your options in your head. “Well, then, when do we leave?”

“Woah, ‘we’?” Tommy pushed himself off the post and walked a step closer. “There’s no we on this. It’s just me and the girl.”

“Tommy, if you think I’m letting you leave Jackson without me, you’re wrong. And you know it.”

“It’s just a week’s ride. You and me, we’ve gone further than that – separately, too. I’ll be fine. I’ll take the girl, and be back before your next stable duty. I need someone here to watch Maria. To watch Joel. Someone I can trust.”

“Yeah? And who will watch you?”

He let out a short laugh. “I don't need anyone to watch me.”

“You know it’s more than that, Tommy. I have a bad feeling about this.”

You both shared a look – a knowing look. Tommy was well aware of how much it meant to you when you had a bad feeling. And it was true. You practically couldn’t stand still at the thought of it all.

He nodded in understanding before looking away. “I get it, but I’m going alone on this. It’ll be easier. Faster. But I needed to tell you so you don’t go worryin’ tomorrow morning.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, to step closer and end the conversation with a light, familiar hand to the shoulder, but he didn’t. He only gave you one last meaningful look before turning and walking away.

–

That night was the same as all others. The incessant ticking of the grandfather clock, the methodical tracing of every grove and indent in the ceiling above you, and the quiet natural sounds of the undisturbed town. The only difference was the added weight that dipped the mattress at the base of your bed – your bag.

Despite what Tommy said, you fully planned on joining him in the morning with a bag packed with two week’s worth of essentials.

Over and over, you imagined the conversation in the stables. You were searching for any giveaways on Tommy’s face that might lend any credibility to what Joel was getting him into. Why the fireflies? Why would the girl need to go to one of their bases? Why come all the way to Jackson? What made the girl so important?

Your stomach churned at every scenario and theory, eyes regularly forgetting the path they were tracing across the speckled ceiling. With a low huff, you turned on your side and stared at the curtains instead. The standard, white, thin curtains that came with the house, same as the clock. They weren’t your favorite, but they reminded you of the time before. They reminded you that there even was a time before.

For whatever reason, that brought as much comfort as it did pain.

Whether the thought brought a wave of fatigue that pushed you over the brink of sleep, you couldn’t tell, but you were pulling yourself up and out of bed the moment the first signs of daylight poked through your window. The early sunlight spilled lazily across your floorboards and sent your heart thumping wildly.

You knew if the two of them were leaving, they would do so early. You’d be damned if Tommy left you behind.

You were up and out of your house faster than you’d ever been before. A small part of you tried not to dwell on the fact that your heart was actually beating with excitement. The thought of leaving Jackson for some time was invigorating – freeing. You’d never admit it to Tommy – you’d barely admit it to yourself – but the town was far too overwhelming at times.

You’d traded Fedra's walls for Jackson’s walls, and the idea was none too pleasing next to the sight of all of the calm, relaxed faces.

It still seemed so trivial to have all of this in here – calm, reassurance, life – while the world rotted out there.

The suffocation of it all was also one of the reasons you jumped at the chance to join the patrol team only days after you and Tommy joined Jackson. You needed a regular out, to catch your breath and to remind yourself there still was a world out there. Broken, tattered, and empty. But it was there all the same.

And now here was another chance, an opportunity to go even for just a little while longer.

Even if the last thing you expected was to turn the corner at the entrance of the stable and see Joel.

The older Miller was fiddling with one of the padlocks, mumbling something under his breath before he chanced a look over his shoulder to find you watching him with partially parted lips. He froze that way for a second. It never occurred to you which one of you would speak first until the silence between you started to stretch on, second by second.

The two of you took a breath at the same time, seconds away from over-talking one another, just as Colby rounded the corner and came to a stop a few steps behind you. Your name left his lips, breathlessly and pleasantly surprised.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. You turned to face him just as his eyes flitted towards Joel before settling back on you. “Our name’s aren’t on the board for today.”

You nodded. Your bag suddenly seemed heavy on your shoulder, so you adjusted the straps to avoid eye contact for a few seconds. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Olivia and Myles need some things fixed around their house. Toby mentioned we had some spare tools lying around the stables if I wanted to help.” His voice trailed off at the sound of Joel yanking the padlock off one of the horse’s pens. Colby’s eyes shifted to your bag. “Are you heading out?”

You heard the faintest stutter in Joel’s movements. You wondered if he realized Tommy let you in on the matter.

When you didn’t immediately respond, Colby tried for a laugh. It sounded oddly strained. “Showing the new guy the ropes already, huh?”

An exaggerated grunt sounded behind you, and you rolled your eyes. Joel’s lack of response and familiarity with you should’ve been enough of an answer for Colby. Obviously not, of course.

“No,” you stated simply. You were quick on your feet. Dismissive. You felt partially bad for how smoothly a lie flew from your lips to placate his misplaced curiosity, but you wanted him gone more than anything else at the moment. “I’ve been helping Maria with something.”

Your response did exactly as you anticipated. There was little opposition whenever you said you were doing something for Maria; no one ever asked or pushed further. Thankfully, Colby was one of the many who never asked questions.

Colby nodded, excusing himself as he stepped by you and walked toward one of the work benches. His gaze flitted toward Joel several more times as he collected a few items and grabbed a nearby toolbox. You’d never seen him in such a rush to do anything. You wondered if he could feel the taut air, the strained edginess in the situation he just walked in on.

If he did, his smile didn’t show it.

He walked back toward you on his way out, brushing your shoulder with his own. He nodded his head in goodbye. “I’ll see you around.”

Your only response was a tight-lipped smile as you watched his retreating figure. Anything to avoid turning back to Joel for as long as possible. You weren’t sure what to say or how to say it. You were sure he suspected Tommy told you what the two of them had discussed, even if Tommy hadn’t told you much. Joel didn’t know that.

And, when you turned around, Joel’s expression gave away exactly what you figured. Partial annoyance littered every muscle in his face as his jaw feathered.

With eyes trained on you, he nodded in your direction. “Tommy tell you?”

You didn’t know whether to nod or vigorously disagree. You were aware of how rocky their relationship was, how turbulent their past must have been for the two of them to separate, and you wanted little to do with however they felt about one another.

Still, Joel took your silence as an answer and clucked his tongue in irritation.

“You shouldn’t blame him,” You spoke up, crossing your arms defiantly, “When I want information, I’m pretty good at grilling people for it.”

“I know Tommy. He doesn’t need much grillin’.”

Silence ensued once more until your curiosity won. You watched him strap his pack on the horse for a few moments before speaking up again. “If Tommy’s the one leaving, why are you here? Prepping a horse, no less.”

“I’m giving Ellie a choice – me or Tommy.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s only fair.”

“No, I mean, why Tommy? Why not you? It’s been just you and Ellie so far. Why change that now?”

“Tommy’s younger. Stronger. Faster. Her best bet would be to leave with him.”

You considered that, eyes wandering Joel’s figure with sudden interest. It was partially self-indulgent, if you were to be completely honest with yourself. It was your first time really getting to look at him … and he looked alright. A slight tilt to his gait, from age or injury or both. His broad frame and build were controlled, guarded, muscular.

With a shrug and a brief look away, you tried for indifference. “You seem just fine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. Tommy’s the better choice.”

“Tommy has a kid on the way.”

“Yeah, well,” he paused, casting a short glance in your direction, “not that it’s your place, but it’s important that Ellie gets to where she needs to be.”

You chose not to say anything after that. You felt it best to wait for Tommy, to see how this would all play out. You were fine there, with your arms crossed and eyes now pinned on your shoes, until one side of the saddle slipped. Joel’s frustrated sigh made your head snap back up. He was holding one of the saddle clamps in one hand and raising his other hand to his mouth, biting the tip of his gloved finger to yank the glove off completely.

With a roll of your eyes, you dropped your bag and marched towards him without a second thought. He was too distracted, busying himself with the horse’s straps, to notice you until you were grabbing the loose straps from his cold hands and finishing them yourself.

He didn’t protest or take a step back – didn’t move an inch, in fact. All he did was take his glove from his mouth and stare down at you, sizing you up.

“Why’re you here? Were you going to leave with them – with Tommy and Ellie?” He paused. “Is that what your bag is for? Was that your plan?”

He made your idea sound ridiculous. Far-fetched. His tone was enough to make you shoot a glare over your shoulder, making brief but pointed eye contact before your attention fell back to the horse.

“Wherever Tommy goes, I go.”

“That so?”

You only hummed in response until you conceded. “Mostly.”

“Why’s that? Tommy said this trip shouldn’t be dangerous.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why leave?”

The last strap slipped easily in place, and you turned to look at him. “Because I want to.”

You’re not sure why you said it, however truthful it was. His brow furrowed in confusion, and a part of you wondered if you said too much. It was clear his persistence only meant his genuine concern for his and Ellie’s safety. You were sure he wasn’t expecting to pull a confession from you.

Thankfully, the sound of footsteps interrupted the silence once more as Tommy and Ellie rounded the corner of the stable’s entrance. You stepped away from Joel to meet Tommy halfway, and the movement caught Tommy’s attention immediately. His approach suddenly became cautious, weary. His brow furrowed, and you noticed how similar his confused expression was to Joel’s.

“What are you doing here?”

With a smirk, you responded, “Told you you wouldn’t leave here without me.”

He only shook his head, fighting a grin, as the two of you turned to watch Joel and Ellie. It came as a shock to you how quickly she chose Joel. Her decision was quick, without question, and made Joel fail miserably in hiding his elation. She was already swinging her leg to climb on top of the horse by the time Joel registered her clear devotion.

You should’ve been relieved – relieved that Tommy would be staying here and not taking some random teenager across the empty planes far from Jackson, alone. Maybe a part of you should’ve felt traces of bitterness for not having the opportunity to leave as you wanted to. But all you felt was a feeling of dread deep in your chest, like that day twenty years earlier. Outbreak Day. The day your brother never came back.

“I’m going with them.”

It was quiet. Small. Even without trying, Tommy still heard it.

His head whipped towards you. “What? Why?”

“Something still doesn’t feel right, Tommy.”

He studied you – the way your eyes never left Ellie, or Joel. Finally, he nodded. “Then, I’ll go.”

“What?” You turned to face him, shaking your head. “Tommy, you can’t just leave like you used to. Maria needs you here.”

“If something happens to my brother, I should be there.”

A lump formed in your throat at his sentiment, but you’ve had enough practice to push it down. You only nodded solemnly. “Maria needs you Tommy. I’ll go.”

Tommy took a moment. He looked between Joel and Ellie, then to you. He finally nodded and set his gaze on Joel. “You need an escort?”

–

A part of you was glad to find immediate solace in the way the sun crept along your neck and pulled apart your every tensed muscle. Even if your only thought was Tommy's parting words to you.

"Play nice," he had whispered, looking meaningfully towards you. He had nodded in Joel's direction. "Go easy on him."

The other part of you was too consumed by the consistent chatter coming from the two trotting close to your left. Joel’s responses, however short and sparse, were nothing compared to Ellie’s tendency to ramble. His speech still came – deep and soft – more often than you expected it to. Joel was a different man with Ellie; that much was clear.

“What about you?” Ellie's voice drifted towards you without caution.

“Ellie,” Joel grunted.

“What? It’s just a question. Doesn’t have to be answered … but I know it will be.”

Your eyebrow perked up as you chanced a side-long look in her direction. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“I can see you over there, practically dying to chime in on our conversation.”

“That’s an overstatement.”

“Maybe … but it’s true. Partial truth, I guess, but true all the same.”

“I actually didn’t think the two of you would be this talkative.”

“He didn’t use to be.”

You looked over at Joel this time. His eyes flitted away from you at first contact, feigning indifference. His elbow nudged Ellie from where she sat behind him, gripping his jacket. It was clearly his attempt to shut her up before she said something that might crack his facade. But you’d be lying if you weren’t curious. The older Miller brother was growing harder to read – nothing like how you’d thought or how Maria assumed him to be.

You decided to lean into Ellie’s good graces, to spurn her on. If and only if to protect Tommy, even if it meant from his own brother. “Alright. I’ll bite.”

“He used to be a grump. Always said,” she paused, inflating her chest as she put on, what you assumed to be, her best attempt at Joel’s accent, “‘no’ or ‘Ellie shut up.’”

“And what changed?”

The two of them went radio silent, and you shrugged it off with an annoying tug of disappoint. At worst, you’d already missed your chance to nudge at the real reason the two of them suddenly wound up in Jackson, or if Joel posed a risk to all that Tommy built away from him. At best, you gained the silence you were hoping for.

For two seconds.

“So, movies. Were they always like that – like back in Jackson. Just a bunch of people in front of a screen, watching some boring movie.”

You wanted to snort at that. A brief quirk of the corners of your lips probably betrayed the humor you’d found in her statement. For a brief moment, you remembered him – your brother. Jostling your shoulders in the snack line, ready and willing to watch some movie with you because none of your friends would. So carefree, so unaware of the hell that would lead to neither one of you seeing the inside of a theater ever again.

The hilarity of it all suddenly died.

“Pretty much,” Joel offered. “Overpriced junk food, long lines, and faded chairs with candy stuck between every cushion.”

You frowned at that, sending a glare in his direction that you didn’t entirely mean. Before the outbreak, movies were your favorite. It felt remiss to let Joel dull the experience for a kid – for someone who would never get to experience it the way you did. The way either of you did, if Joel were to be honest you were sure.

You scoffed, gaining both of their attention almost immediately. “Jackson is only half of what the world was like. A good half – or start, I guess – but half all the same. Everything’s different, including movies. Back then, movies were packed with people of all ages. Everyone was always excited to see whatever was playing. Or, sometimes, you’d go to these places – stores – and get the movies there to watch at home.”

“Movie stores,” she stated. Whimsical. Dream-like.

You nodded. “You’d rent them, take them home, and probably lose them the next day. You’d rack up enough late fees to make you never want to rent a movie again. Then you show up … and do it all over again.”

“Why?”

Thinking about the world in its current state and everything you did before the outbreak seemed silly, dramatic. The cares of that life seemed so far away, so distant and ridiculous, you were sure it had no meaning now and certainly had no meaning then. But it was nice … even if the information was being forced out of you, pried by someone – just a kid – who meant no harm, just an innocence worth protecting.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully.

You spared a glance in their direction and saw them both looking at you intently. You cleared your throat, mentioning something about being careful and needing to make it to your destination in a timely manner, before spurring your horse forward with a kick of your heel.

–

Their words became isolated, faraway, with the distance you put between yourself and them. You kept your head on a swivel, watching and waiting for anything out of the norm or out of place. It had been awhile since you made this trip, but you were still able to remember natural landmarks fairly easily. You were starting to think your worry was for nothing, that Joel might be wondering why you’d made such a commotion at the thought of them leaving alone.

At the thought, you turned around to check on the now silent duo. Your checks were periodical, militaristic, but necessary all the same. From here, it seemed like Ellie’s head had found rest against Joel’s shoulder, brown ponytail tossing in the wind and brushing against his bare skin. It stirred something in the pit of your stomach, so you faced forward.

You trotted onward, slightly shocked Joel made no mention of setting up camp as the sun dipped lower and lower. Your only thoughts were on the destination, pushing and testing the boundary on how far you could ride before camp was unavoidable.

Eventually, you decided to relent. The sun was low in the sky, and dusk was beginning to wane. You turned and sent a nod in Joel’s direction before pulling off the road to find camp. This was the one part you never particularly liked. Camping, even in a part shrouded by trees, felt too open, too vulnerable. But it was all you could manage between here and the firefly base.

To your slight surprise, Ellie and Joel worked in near perfect unison to take off their packs and find places to settle while you attended to the horses. It didn’t take long for Ellie to slip into her sleeping bag and let sleep wash over her. Even in the middle of a dense wooded area, on hardened ground and surrounded by unlocalized sounds, sleep came easily for her. You were slightly jealous and suddenly reminiscent of times when sleep came easily for you too.

When you were finished, you took refuge against a tree, back digging into the bark. Quietly, Joel sat adjacent to you, eyes also on Ellie but, every so often, on you.

“How do you know Tommy?”

You almost wanted to laugh at how quickly he jumped right into conversation. Without Ellie’s chatter, it didn’t seem like Joel could stand the quiet any more than he could stand having an added third party with them. Or maybe he was just genuinely curious about his brother. With all the time between them since the last time they’d seen each other, it was only right that he’d be interested in the life Tommy built away from him.

You wondered what it was like – for an older sibling to watch what the younger had built without them, without their help.

Tommy. Just the thought of him made you turn toward Joel. You caught his eye just as his gaze flitted toward you. The two of you eyed each other, wearily.

You wanted to ignore Joel completely if it meant sitting in comfortable silence, but Tommy meant something to you. And Joel meant something to Tommy.

Play nice, Tommy had whispered. You partially hated how he assumed you wouldn’t … even if he was right.

“We met a little while before we bumped into Maria and her crew.” You shrugged. “I guess you could say we’ve been something like partners ever since.”

“He never mentioned you on the radio.”

“Tell me, Joel, did you ever have conversations that would’ve led to him mentioning me?”

Joel seemed partially stunned by the biting remark. He gave a small shake of his head before retreating back into himself. A heavy feeling settled in your chest at the sight. With a sigh, you decide to give conversation another try.

“So, how do you know the kid?”

He huffed. “‘S complicated.”

You glanced at the horizon. “We’ve got six hours, cowboy.”

The nickname slipped from your tongue so easily you almost didn’t catch it. It was normal, typical, when talking to Tommy. You tried to ignore Joel’s raised brow when he looked at you for a long moment before responding.

“I’m just meant to protect her, that’s all.”

“I get that.”

A wry smile broke his neutral expression as he shook his head, picking up your insinuation. “Tommy’s a grown man. He doesn’t need protectin’.”

“And that’s why you traveled across the country to get to him?”

“He’s my brother. That’s different. ”

“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing an impending lump in your throat. Your gaze dropped to your lap. “Yeah.”

A quiet fell between you two. The surrounding trees suddenly felt too close, too restrictive. You were certain they were starting to close in on you. You probably would've stood and tried to find a clearing had it not been for Joel clearing his throat.

“What about you — any family?”

“We all used to have somebody.”

“Colby seems to know you well enough. Seems to be the only person I’ve seen you talk to other than Tommy.”

“Well, in the two minutes you’ve been here, yes. Colby’s my patrol partner. It was always Tommy, but we’ve learned to accept things as they are in Jackson. Even if it means something as simple as trading shifts.”

“You or Tommy?”

You looked at him, brow quirked in confusion. “What?”

“You said ‘we’ve learned to accept.’ You certainly sound like ‘em. At least, the way he is now anyway. Just wonderin’ if you’ve taken to Jackson’s many … rules like he has.”

You suddenly remembered what you had told him back at the stables – about wanting to leave Jackson. You shook your head at the memory.

“Jackson really is a good place. They’ve treated us like their own from day one. I didn’t trust them at first, but we made friends … I still think I can thank Marie’s soft spot for Tommy for that.”

“So you were there? When they were … married.”

“Of course I was. Look, I know Tommy. He rushes into things, doesn’t always think them through …,” Your voice trailed off at Joel's sharp glance. You realized how you must’ve sounded, but it was clear his sudden attention wasn’t from a place of warning or hostility. He was agreeing, partially shocked at how observant and perceptive you were to who his brother was. You continued on, “ … but I really think he took his time with this. He cares about her, a lot.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You and him just seem so close. I thought …”

He wasn't sure what he thought, but he didn't finish his thought. A part of you was glad for it, even if the conversation dwindled. Not because you weren’t used to people assuming some sort of romantic past existed between you and Tommy, which it didn’t, but because you were not in the least bit interested broaching that subject with his older brother.

You stood to your feet. “Tommy’s my friend. I protect his the way he would protect mine. Right now, that means you.” You look around, trying not to look at his expression. He seemed surprised – eyeing you as if he was trying to figure you out. You didn’t particularly like it. “We should probably check the perimeter again. It’s been awhile.” You nod in some vague direction. “I’ll head over there, make sure the area’s clear.”

“Yeah.” Joel was nodding finally, taking his time to stand to his feet. He seemed to tower over you, even while leaning. It was then you noticed he was slightly taller than Tommy. A few inches, but taller all the same. You were surprised he didn’t laugh at the notion of you protecting him the way Tommy always did. “If you see something … shout.”

“And wake the kid?” You nodded toward Ellie, sleeping in her sack like a pile of bricks. A ghost of a smile almost graced your lips. Almost. “I’d kill to sleep like that again. If I see something, I’ll take care of it.”

“She’s tougher than she looks. Even if you do wake her, she’ll be alright.”

The two of you shared a nod before parting ways. Joel was the one to glance over his shoulder at your retreating figure first. Then you at his.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #tommymiller #tommy miller x platonic!reader #the last of us tv show #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #thelastofus #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joelmiller

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

Girl Dad

Pairing: Ex Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: Joel makes a series of mistakes that cause you to leave the QZ with Tommy, finding a community to settle down with. Joel reunites with you to find he had daughters he never knew about.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content Warning: pregnancy, failed abortion, birth, failed abortion, death of a twin, typical tlou violence.

18 years, you and Joel had been together, never married but you both decided early on; it was something that could wait until you were ready, you were convinced you really would last forever, regardless of marriage. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where things went wrong, when Sarah died Joel didn’t shut you out, he leaned into you more, depended on you as if you were his lifeline. You felt the loss as hard as Joel did, you officially adopted Sarah the day she died, your heart felt so bitter to this day at the way she was taken from you, it would be your first loss as a mother, the first daughter you would lose. The loss had you both closer than you ever had been, a trio travelling across the country accompanied by Tommy, the three of you stuck together like superglue.

At the time, finding the Boston QZ felt like a blessing, paradise within the giant walls and safety of order and authority. It felt like things were almost normal, everyone worked and earned credits, currency used like money to buy everything you needed to survive.

The closest instance you could pinpoint the beginning of Joel’s hostility was when you had worked 10 hours a day, teaching children basic education, because was still important, even at the end of the world. A sickness had been bothering you for days-okay, a week, you’d experienced nausea and stomach cramps, with no blood to indicate it was your period behind the symptoms. You used 4 credits on an out of date pregnancy strip that showed a positive result. Turns out even out of date pregnancy strips can detect pregnancy, you were hesitant to tell Joel, he was a fantastic dad to Sarah, but he wasn’t the same, he was a broken man and you didn’t know how he would react to you having a baby.

You decided impulsively to drop the bomb over dinner, a half warm-can of pasta, interrupting Joel in the process, “got some extra credits today for those pills-” “I’m pregnant.” Your brain was running a million miles a minute, eyes scanning Joels face for a reaction when he started to frown. oh no. The lines in his forehead deepening, probably causing more stress lines. “I’ll see if I can find some pills that will get rid of it next time me and Tess go out, it’ll be fine we just need to get rid of it. Darlin’?” Joels eyes are watching you as he leans forward in his seat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, “Joel maybe we don’t need to get rid of the baby.” Joel scoffs and stands up, the chair squealing as it scoots across the floor, “this is no world for any goddamn baby to be raised in y/n. Don’t be stupid.” You bit your lip as you stood, stepping toward Joel your hands in defense, “this could be a good thing Joel, we could even name her Sar-” Joel snaps at you loudly, “don’t finish that sentence, you’re really pushing it.” His body stiffened at the thought of you naming that clump of cells after his deceased real daughter.

“We’re not doing this, you’re getting rid of it and that final.” Joel tells you sternly, leaving the apartment, slamming the door on the way out. You slump back into the uncomfortable embrace of the steel chair, accepting that Joel wouldn’t accept this baby as his own, it was a hard thought to swallow. You lean forward to rest your head on the dining table, eyes fluttering as you fall asleep in a position that your back would complain about in the morning.

A clink noise woke you up in front of you, the sunshine filtering through the square window by the bed, you had slept through the night on the damn dining room table, your back aching and cracking as you sat up made you groan, eyes met with Joel, who had placed a half a glass of water in front of you and two small pills rolled onto the large side as he threw them in front of you, standing over you as you take them into your hands and rub your eyes. Your eyes can’t meet Joels as he watches you, you drink the water in the glass, relieving some dryness in your throat as you swallowed the pills. You slam the cup on the table standing to turn away from Joel, his hand grabbed your wrist, “open your mouth.” You turn to him with a frown, “are you fucking serious right now Joel?” He didn’t answer just starred at you blankly, you open your mouth and lift your tongue, “Happy asshole?” You spat and walked into the bathroom where you turned on the cold water and held your arms around yourself protectively, “sorry baby i’m so sorry. Mama wanted you so badly.” Joel stood on the other side of the door, forehead pressed against the chipping paint, his heart filled with regret, he just couldn’t do it again, he couldn’t lose Sarah all over again.

Months went by and Joel had never been so distant with you, you had taken a few weeks of grieving to yourself, then slowly started to come back to Joel, the hugs, kisses, but no sex. His rejection weighing deep on your heart and the insecurity eating you alive, he thought you were disgusting, why else wouldn’t he have sex with you? For weeks the question ate you alive.

The question was answered a few nights later when Joel stumbled in, drunk at 3:30am, you kept your eyes closed as he fell onto the bed next to you, the smell of Lavender and whisky was a scent you would never forget, you started to put the pieces together.

The extra smuggle runs with Tess. Coming home late. Not being intimate with you. Joel wanting you to abort your baby, all because of Tess. Your heart broke, you sobbed silently next to Joel as you mourned 18 years of your love, the loss of your daughter, the man you were meant to spent forever with. You started to emotionally detach yourself, Joel didn’t notice how you pulled away, never noticed how you wouldn’t touch him, would scoot further away when he lie down in the bed, would skip meals with him.

Joel only noticed something was wrong with you when it was too late, weeks too late. Tommy was going on a run far North; he was determined to find humanity outside of the worsening violence that happened daily in the Boston QZ, he always spoke and hoped of a nicer place, somewhere more communal. You begged Tommy to tag along, you would make yourself useful, you wouldn’t be a liability; “please.” You beg Tommy, he sighs deeply, “what about Joel?” You shake your head, “he’s with Tess now.” All Tommy hears is a mumble from you, “oh sweetheart.” He pulled you in for a hug and checked your bag for supplies, making sure you have a suffienct amount of equiptment.

“Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Joels booming voice watched you, stopping right in front of Tommy. “She wants to come Joel, that’s her choice.” Joel grabs your wrist, and you shake him off, “isn’t Tess expecting you?” Joels face drops and his eyes soften, “darlin’ no, no. Come inside we can talk about this, okay?” You shake your head, “sorry Joel, it was over the day you made me swallow those pills.” Tommy looks between the two of you, confused. “I regret it, everyday.” You offer him a small smile, not wanting your goodbye to be hostile, “me too Joel. Goodbye.” You leave Joel standing there, heartbroken and truly alone for the first time since Sarah had been born. The ache in his heart begged for you to mend it, for him to chase after you and beg, grovel if he needed to, but his legs were frozen in place and all he could do was watch you leave.

“Mama, my arm.” You’re met with your daughter sobbing, tears stained her red chubby cheeks as saliva slobbered down her lips as she wailed, pointing to her arm. “Oh Elliarna, let mama kiss it better baby.” You soothed as you cuddled her, the small scrape was red and barely peeled back a layer of skin. “Which bandaid do you want baby, Princess or Horses?” The tears stop momentarily, “hmmm, horsies please mama, can we ride the horsies and go and see sissy Sar?” Tears gathered in your lashline as you applied the bandaid carefully, “sure baby, go and ask Tommy to help get your boots on.” Her footsteps thundered down the hall to meet Tommy, the sore on her arm completely forgotten about.

She came back speed walking down the hall to you where you wait by the front door, pulling one of Tommy’s warmer jackets over your shoulders, covering the vunerable exposed bump of your pregnant stomach. “Tommy told me stop running in the house mama, so I did.” You smile at Tommy walking towards you, his shy smile making him look so handsome, “good listening Elliarna, let’s go and feed the horses.” She skipped ahead of you out the front door in joy, Tommy holding your hand in his, “she’s going to be a great sister.” You smile at Tommy in agreement, a protective hand over your bump, “I have no doubts Tommy, you’re going to be a great dad, you have been a great dad.” Redness spreads from Tommys cheeks to his ears, you had been together for three years, shortly before you gave birth you found yourselves romantically involved. Tommy was there when you found this community in Wyoming, when you had pregnancy complications and went into pre-mature labour at 36 weeks because you were having twins, Elliarna survived, the smaller baby didn’t. You never thought you would lose two daughters in a lifetime. You had suffered enough. Tommy shared the same anxiety as you carried his own child, 8 months into your pregnancy you were as far along as you were when you gave birth three years ago. Praying to whoever was listening this baby was born alive, healthy.

“Hey, it’ll be okay sweetheart.” Tommys fingers squeezed your own and offered a sweet smile. You bring his hand up to your lips and kiss lovingly, finding the same appraise in your eyes. “Mama, Tommy look, there is new people on the horsies.”

You look up, a familiar face looking back at you and Tommy, a young girl clinging to him on the back of the horse they shared. Your mind had to be playing tricks on you, a delusion. Joel fucking Miller was jumping off the horse, you pickup Elliarna and rush to your house, tears gathering in your eyes, “what’s wrong mama are you hurt?” You sniffle and nod your head, “yeah baby mama’s hurt.” She rubs your pregnant stomach which makes you weep more, “is the baby ok?” You place your hand over her small one, “the baby is okay Elli.” Your daughter frowns, “then what’s wrong mama.” She reaches up to wipe your tears away and you chuckle, “let’s go outside and see sissy? Mama can explain it better okay?”

She smiles at you and pulls on your hand leading you outside, “okay mama.”

“Tommy.” Joel yells rushing to his younger brother, “Joel.” Tommy breathes, embracing each other, seeing each other for the first time in 3 years. “Was that..?” Tommy nods, “yeah, we made it here together.” Joel looks to Tommy, “and the kid?” Tommy huffs, a cloud exiting his lips, “your daughter, Joel.” Joel frowns and shakes his head, “no, that not possible, she took the-” Tommy placed his hand on Joels shoulder, “they didn’t work.” Joel’s breath stutters, choking back a sob, falling into Tommys arms. “There’s something you should see before you meet her, follow me.” Joel follows Tommy towards the house you retreated to, walking to the back of the house to a small garden shed, your body crouched down with you-his daughter. In front of you was a small wooden cross painted white, with black letters Melody Sarah Miller, small pink flowers painted around the name with a date. 07/15/2020.

You put the small butterfly antique back with the other decorations that the town had donated for your daughter. You wipe your tears as you turn around with your daughter, Joel standing beside Tommy you immediately start shaking your head no, “sweetheart he deserves to know.” Your teary eyes met Tommy’s and your hand instinctively cradled your pump to protect it. Joel watches the interaction between the two of you, sweet, affirmative, loving, you’re pregnant. Joel’s heart sinks, regretting every choice he made to push you into his brother’s arms.

You turn to Joel with sad eyes, he feels his demeanor crumbling at the sight of you, teary eyed and vunerable, your daughter shying away from him. “The pills didn’t terminate the pregnancy, I was pregnant with twins, I had alot of complications and went into early labour, Elliarna was the larger twin so she survived, Melody didn’t, I had to bury our daughter Joel and you weren’t here.” Your eyes began weeping as your body shook as you sobbed, reliving the feeling of despair, hopelessness and loss as you look at him. “I’m so sor-” You shake your head, “don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare Joel.” Joel’s body slumps in defeat, you were right, he doesn’t get to cop out and apologise now once all the hardship had been done, alone. He didn’t feel the grief, the void and emptiness losing this baby condemned you with. “You’re right.” Joels admission confuses you, him owning his actions calmed you a fraction, enough for you to take a breath. “Come here Elliarna sweetie, meet your daddy, remember how mama and Tommy told stories of your daddy Joel?” Elliarna steps out front behind you and in front of Joel. Joel’s eyes water, she looked exactly like him, her deep brown eyes mirrored his, her dark brown hair was sat in messy waves, the curve in her nose was a definite trait she inherited from him, the freckles on her cheeks softened the chubby-ness of her face. “Hi daddy.” Joel drops to his knees and holds his daughter, the weight of not missing 3 years of his daughter life weighing heavily on him, “hi baby girl.” Joel sniffles into his daughter shoulder, finding solace in the way she looks so familiar to Sarah. He pulls back and studies her face, afraid she will disappear from his arms.

“She looks like her.” Joel whimpers, looking up at you, the statement overwhelming you and your lip wobbled. “Yeah, she does.” Elliarna insepcts Joel’s face and giggles, scratching his patchy salt and pepper beard, “you must be old daddy, you are all grey.” Joel chuckles and his chest feels a load of weight lifted off him, “yeah baby, i am getting old, aren’t I?” Elliarna giggles, “how old?” You scold her gently, “that rude Elliarna.” Joel dismisses it, “I’m 56, and you, you’re 3, right?” Joel looks to you for conformation, standing up his knees crack as he lifts up his daughter in his arms, “yeah, she’s 3.” Joel looks between you and Tommy, not displaying any affection in front of him, “and you two are? You’re..” Joel trails off noticing your pregnant belly. “Uh, yeah. We’re 8 months along now.” Tommy replies, testing the water. Joel nods, accepting the fact that you looked happier with Tommy than you ever did with him. “Now,” you start, looking at Joel, “who’s the girl”? Joel walks with his daughter in his arms, you and Tommy following beside him hand in hand, back towards the young girl that was left behind with the horses, standing awkwardly.

You rush to her and pull her into a bone crushing hug, your swollen bump pressing into her, she hugged you back, welcoming the affection. “Ellie, meet my daughter, Elliarna.” Ellie laughed, “no way, that’s so frigging cool,” she turns towards your daughter, “we have the same name! sort of.” Your daughter giggles at Ellie and you smile between the bond that Joel and Ellie have. “Didn’t know you were such a pimp Joel.” You all laughed; she was going to fit in well with you. “This is y/n, the woman that gave me this beautiful girl, and my brother, Tommy.” Ellie looked between the three of you and you laughed. “Welcome to the family Ellie.” Tommy gives you a sweet smile, “let’s go and have dinner, we can talk more over a hot meal and a warm house to sit in.” Everyone agrees, “thank you for givin’ me a chance, I know I ain’t deserve it.” Joel thanks you sincerely and you smile, “you’re a dad of four Joel, it’s who you were meant to be, who am I to keep you from that?”

Tommy kisses you sweetly, admiring your strength and kindness, the love of his life, no one in the world would ever compare to you, silently thanking his older brother for his mistakes. Your family was almost complete, waiting on the arrival of your baby, with two watching over you.

#joel miller #joelmiller #joelmillerfic #tommymiller #tommymillertlou #tlou #pedropascal #dadpedro #joelmillerxreader #tommymillerxreader #dadtommymiller #elliewilliams

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augustghosts · 1 year

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Willing

Tommy Miller x F!reader

Plastic Trees part three!

Read Part One and Part Two

This gets a little steamy light straight away, lol. Sorry? Or maybe I’m not… this is just…this is kind of filthy. Hope you enjoy <3 (not proofread because I’m still lazy)

Word Count: 3.8k (2k of this is smut lol)

Warnings: 18+, lots of teasing, dark!tommy defo makes an appearance here so be warned, oral (m receiving), fingering, doin sexy stuff outside, slight knife play. Guns and death, typical tlou stuff lol.

“Can you teach me?”

“No. Be quiet.”

She huffs at his answer. They’re both whispering, she’s standing behind Tommy - he has his gun pointed at a deer deeper into the forest. She knows how to shoot a gun, she knows how to protect herself. But she doesn’t know how to shoot a gun like the one Tommy has. She can see it now, his. Strong chest pressed to her back as he stands behind her. His hands covering hers as she holds the gun, his breath against her skin as he whispers in her ear. The thought makes her want to squeeze her thighs together, when she does the leaves on the ground crackle underneath her feet. The deer in Tommy’s sights lifts its head, and it’s gone in a flash. He sighs, dropping his gun.

“Well, there goes dinner.” He says. He turns to her, his gun still in his hands. He notices her looking, her eyes dart back up to his as he turns fully towards her. He has those fucking leather gloves on again.

“Sorry.” She murmurs, looking down at both their shoes.

“What did I tell you?” His voice is low. He slings the gun back over his shoulder and brings two of his gloved fingers underneath her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“You told me to be quiet.”

“And I told you to stand still.” He said. “Usually you’re good at taking orders.”

He’s smirking at her, so she smiles back. “I’m not hungry anyway. Forget about the deer, we’ll find something else.”

“Hmm, I’m kinda hungry.” He says. He steps forwards, she steps backwards - he keeps going until her back is pressed against a tree. “Maybe not for deer though.”

She hums at him, any kind of words feel stuck in her throat. She’s looking up at him with those wide eyes as his hand comes up to feel her chest. His hand grasping her breast over her clothes. She moans lightly, tilting her head up towards him. She whines when he leans his head back, a grin on his face.

“What?” He practically coos at her. “What do you want?”

“Please kiss me, Tommy.” She breathes. Fuck, he can’t resist it. As much as he wants to tease her and get moving, he leans his head down to connect their lips. His hand still on her tit, his thumb moving to lightly circle her nipple. His hands and lips were making her feel dizzy. As usual, Tommy is kissing her, he’s touching her, he’s everywhere - but she still wants more of him. His lips were cold from the outside air but they were still so soft. He pulls away suddenly, his hands leaving her as he steps back.

“Come on.” He says.”We gotta get going.”

She watches him walk away with a giddy smile on her face, what an asshole.

“No. Like this. See?” Tommy’s voice is low in her ear, the way she likes. His hands are practically holding hers as she holds the gun that he had placed in her hands. His hips are pressed into her ass and she’s finding it difficult to concentrate. She’s sure he knows this.

“Your hands are shaking.” He says. “You can’t shoot like that.”

“Well, maybe we should leave the shooting to you then.”

“I thought you wanted to learn?” He steps closer to her, if that's even possible. He’s already pressed up against her back and the extra step just makes him tower over her. She feels trapped in the best way.

The sun is close to going down - they’re standing outside a small alcove in some rocks that Tommy had insisted would be a safe place for them to stay and get some rest for the night. The fire he started was still small and crackling, softly illuminating the small space.

“I do.” She practically whimpers. Her voice was small and nervous and it turned him on like nothing else. “I wanna learn.”

“Well, there’s a lot I can teach you. If you’re willing.” He says as takes the gun out of her hand, places it gently on the floor. She still has her back to him - she can hear him shuffling behind her. When he takes his rightful place behind her, one of his hands slides around her waist, the other comes up to rest against her jaw - slightly tilting her head up. She’s breathing heavily as he rests his cheek against hers - his stubble satisfyingly scratching her sensitive skin. He can feel her heartbeat hammering under his thumb that's pressed below her jaw.

“I’m willing.” She whispers, looking out into the trees in front of him.

“Good.” He uses his grip on her waist to turn her around to face him. “Come here then.”

She shivered at the smirk on his face, that smile she’d seen a few times before. He tugged her body against his as he leaned down to kiss her. He could still feel her heart hammering, just the same as she could feel his cock throbbing through his denim. Tommy moves one hand up and to fist it in her hair, giving it a sharp tug and he smirks as she moans into the kiss.

Tommy chuckles and uses her hair to pull her mouth away from his. He runs his nose up the column of her neck. She squirms against him as his lips connect to her neck, kissing the warm skin gently, before sinking his teeth into her throat.

“Fuck, Tommy!” She curses and grabs at his hair, tangling his soft curls around her fingers. Tommy chuckles and holds her firmer against him. Tommy’s touch is always rough and heavy, he always towers over her, surrounding her with his scent and everything that is him. Everything that she loves.

“You wanna get on your knees for me, baby?” He asks, he’s breathing heavily - his eyes blown out. He looks gorgeous. She nods eagerly and he surprises her by pushing her off of him, regardless she sinks down to her knees in front of him. The rough ground dug into her knees through her jeans, reminding her that they were outside. Her mouth was watering, she hadn’t sucked his cock since that night in the basement. Which honestly wasn’t her best work, she desperately wanted to prove to him that she can do so much better. She ran her fingers over the prominent bulge in his pants. She made work of his belt, adjusting everything just enough to pull his cock out. He’s hard and aching for her and she moans softly at the sight.

She leans in to press a light kiss to the head of his cock. Tommy hisses, his hand curling in her hair - something she has realized he loves doing. She licks up the pre cum that had gathered on his tip, catching liquid on her tongue.

“You taste so good, Tommy.” She murmurs. “I’m gonna show you that I can do much better than that night.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tommy asks. “Well, get on with it like a good girl and maybe I’ll reward you.”

“Reward me?”

“Yeah,” He strokes her cheek as he answers, “maybe I’ll spend a few hours between your thighs. If you're good enough.”

Her pussy clenches at his words. Her palm tightens around his cock and he sighs.

“I’m good enough.” She says, her eyes looking up at him, peering at him as innocently as she could.

“Show me then. Use that mouth for what it's made for.” He says impatiently. Using his grip on her to force her head down towards his cock.

God, he knew exactly what to do to get her riled up. He knew exactly what buttons to press. Something about his voice, something about the way he’s capable of being kind to her - she’s seen it before. But he’s also capable of being like this. Of being mean, of making her get onto her knees and pushing her head down to force her onto his cock. Fuck, it turned her on.

She kissed his aching tip one more time before running her tongue up the sensitive underside of his length.

“Fuck, yes,” Tommy hissed. His cock is hot and heavy as her tongue traces over him. She dips down to take the head of his cock into her mouth. Tommy’s eyes close as he enters her hot mouth. He opens them again to watch her closely as she begins bobbing up and down. He groans, a fucking heavenly noise, as his cock twitches between her lips as she gets him off. The look of pure bliss on her face and the way her eyes glance up at him, already watering, almost makes him come right there.

“God, you’re so perfect.” He moans as he forces her down further. His hips were starting to buck forwards and his groans were getting rougher. He sounded so sexy, she could feel herself dripping. She loved having this effect on him, just as much as she loved the effect he had on her.

“Shit, baby I’m gonna cum,” Tommy absolutely lost control when she moaned around him. “And you’re gonna take it all, yeah?”

She nodded the best she could, looking up at him with those innocent eyes again. He groaned as he pushed her all the way down onto his cock as he came. His cum shot into her mouth and throat in thick ropes. She shut her eyes and took everything he gave her. Tommy wasted no time in hauling her up to stand in front of him and press his mouth hurriedly to hers, both of them were out of breath and the kiss was all teeth and open mouths. It was disgustingly brilliant.

“Good girl,” he mumbles against her skin. “You gonna let me take care of you, baby?”

She nods, still catching her breath. Her eyes still watery, she looked more disheveled than him. He loves it.

“Yeah?” He coos at her, “Don’t worry baby, I got you.”

Moments later Tommy has her flat on the ground, he’s towering over her as he climbs up her body. The rough ground is digging into her back, the same way it did to her knees minutes ago. But once again, neither of them care. To both of their knowledge, there's no one around anyway.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Don’t I always take care of you?”

“Yes,” She whispers, “Please.”

Suddenly, he brings his finger to her lips, softly toying with her bottom lip. She surprises him by taking his finger into her mouth, sucking it slowly like she did his cock. She swears his eyes become darker, if that’s possible.

“I’m gonna take care of you forever, darling.” Tommy purred, sliding his finger from her mouth. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

Out of nowhere, Tommy gets an idea. His hand disappears between their bodies and she gets excited thinking he’s finally going to touch her. Her eyes widen as his hand re-emerges with his small knife wrapped in his fingers. He pressed the tip lightly to her cheek, a sinister smirk spreading across his lips when her breathing picks up.

“You’re so pretty when you're scared baby.” He whispers. “It reminds me of that first night, when I had my gun pointed at your head. You have no idea what that did to me. You liked it too, didn’t you?”

He finishes his sentence by dragging the knife down to the sensitive skin of her jaw, still not applying enough pressure to hurt her. Although he could, and that almost makes him hard again.

“I liked it.” She whimpers, her voice small and shaky. She remembers it well. “I liked it enough to get on my knees for you.”

“Yes you did.” Tommy grins, “That’s how I knew you were special. I could do anything I want to you right now, and you would let me. Wouldn't you?“

She nods slowly, trying not to lean into the knife and cut herself on it.

“Would you?” She asks timidly. Tommy has to think about it for a second, he almost wants to say no. Just to make her feel better. But he also has a feeling that she might enjoy his answer even more than him.

“You really wanna know?” He asks and she nods again. “I’m getting tired of you nodding at me, tell me.”

“I wanna know.” She confirms. Tommy lets go of the knife, tossing it a few feet away.

“Well,” He begins, as he lifts up onto his knees. His hands begin to undo her jeans, roughly pulling them down enough for him to push his hand between her legs. His finger immediately found the wet spot on her panties. She gasps underneath him, her hands gripping his biceps tightly.

“If you really want me to be honest with you, sweetheart. Everytime i look at you, I add something new to the list of things I want to do to you. Most of its alright, but some of it is pretty fuckin’ nasty. Some of it I can’t even say out loud.” His fingers have now pushed her panties to the side, they glide through her folds and zone in on her swollen clit. She gasps and she's not sure if it's because of his words or his fingers.

“I would’ve loved to use that knife on you. I would love to just fucking ruin you, make you scream for me. And i mean really fucking scream.” Tommy is almost ashamed of his own mind, at his own words. And he opts for ducking hisnhead down and sucking on her neck instead of continuing his speech. Deep down she feels like he doesn’t mean it, she knows he wouldn’t hurt her. Or does she? I mean, he was part of a group that did kidnap her. But he was hers now, and she was his. But nevertheless, this is so fucking hot. His fingers have now slipped inside of her and are working her the way only he knows how.

“Like I told you, baby. You’re never leaving me. You’re mine, yeah?” She nods again at his question, but remembers his words from earlier.

“Yes! I’m yours, Tommy. I’m yours. This is all yours.” She gasps, her climax quickly approaching. His words had definitely sped up the process.

“That’s right. All fucking mine.” He snarls through gritted teeth. “You wanna cum for me, gorgeous?”

“Yes! Please, Tommy. Oh my god, please!” She moans, tilting her head back. He didn’t stop fucking her with his fingers as she came around them, making sure to drag out every last drop of her orgasm. Once he had slipped his fingers out of her and she’d caught her breath. He climbed off of her and let her sit up and fix herself up, he sat beside her. She laughed to herself as she realised they were literally in the middle of the fucking forest.

“You good?” He asked as he watched her, his eyes softening. Even after everything he had just said, he still asked. She liked that about him. That’s what she liked about him from the start. This soft side he had that only came out when it needed too, but still - it was there.

“Yeah. I’m good.” She looked around them, the forest was now pretty dark, their fire being the only thing illuminating the area around them.

“Now what?” She asked, shuffling closer to him. The forest suddenly seems scarier now without him on top of her. But he stands up, doing up his jeans that were still hanging open and extending his hand to her.

“Now we gotta try and sleep in this weird little cave.” He says as he helps her up from the ground.

“Is it safe?“ She asks, surveying the forest around them again.

“We’ll be fine.” He answers. “I’m gonna stay awake watching for a while. We’ll get moving tomorrow.”

“You need sleep too.” She says.

“I’ll be fine.”

“But, you shou-“

“I’ll be fine.” He interrupts her, repeating himself sternly. She trusts him, he knows that. So she takes his word for it. She’d slept in some weird places since the outbreak, she’d been on the move for a while at the beginning. So this cave was nothing. She curled up in the corner, getting as comfortable as she could sitting against a cold stone wall. She falls asleep with fire flickering and Tommy standing protectively outside.

It turns out, as always - Tommy was right. A day later they were strolling through a city. They’d done a lot of walking and honestly, Tommy had been pretty tight lipped about this community he was supposedly taking them too. It made her nervous, but what other choice did she have but to trust him? So on she went. As usual, Tommy was walking in front of her, his gun at the ready in his hands. A sigh leaving his lips every time she asked a question.

“Was Texas nice?”

“Yes.” He answered shortly, keeping his eyes focused on what was going on around them. He’d already schooled her on being quiet once today.

“Did you always live there?”

“Mhm.”

This was her least favorite version of him, the one that was short and rude with her. She never knew which side of him she was going to get. He has gotten used to her asking questions now, just resorting to answering with a yes or a no. He had discovered that telling her to shut up did no good, sonhe had to change his own ways instead.

“Why did you leave?” She asked. He stayed silent this time. She hadn’t spent much time in cities since the outbreak, most of her time spent a qz, or more recently- a fucking basement. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, she couldn’t help but find beauty in it. An abandoned city once filled with life, mow filled with a different kind of life.

She wondered what Tommy’s life was like, was he the same? Or did the outbreak change him? She desperately wanted to ask. But him even telling her he was from Texas was a big step, so she’ll keep that for another day.

“So, did you like… have a job or something?” She opts for a more annoying question instead.

“Yes. Of course I had a job.” He turns to her as he answers this time. Only slightly turning his head to check that she wasn’t too far away. She’d made a habit of staring at the tall buildings around them and falling too far back, causing him to have to wait for her. This conversation was obviously intriguing to her, as she was right up behind him.

“What did you do?”

“I, uh,” He sighs, debating whether or not to tell her the truth. “I did construction.”

“Is that it? You did that all your life? I feel like there's more, you don’t seem like a construction guy.”

God, she was too fucking smart.

“Oh yeah? What do I seem like?”

“I don’t know.” She laughs. He turns to look at her again, an amused smile on his face this time. She smiles up at him.

“Well you’re right, I guess.” He regrets it immediately, but finishes his sentence anyway. “I joined the army when I was 18.”

“Oh, wow.” She says. She sounds genuinely interested. “Did you-“

“Don’t ask me about it.” He cuts her off. She stupidly nods instead of answering, as he’s in front of her so he doesn’t see it. All he hears is her being silent, and her footsteps crunching on the ground behind him. He feels a little bit guilty and opens his mouth to utter an apology, but something else catches his attention instead. He whirls around to face her, grasps her shoulders and pushes her roughly to the side - just quick enough to miss the bullet that flies past them. The gunshot that rings out around them is loud and echoes in the empty city.

“Go!” Tommy yells, he’s still holding her tightly as he gestures to a car beside them. She moves quickly, ducking down behind the car, Tommy follows. Tommy realizes that the gunshots are coming from the building opposite them and he quickly gets to work on firing his own gun at a specific window.

Tommy thinks quickly, to the left of them is an alleyway, and he thinks that if he distracts them she would have enough time to squeeze down it. They wouldn’t be able to shoot her down there unless they had good aim, and by the looks of it. They didn’t.

“Hey!” He yells to get her attention. The gun shots are still loud and he realizes there are most likely multiple shooters in there. Raiders probably, bastards.

“You see that alleyway?”

She nods, looking up at him with those big scared eyes again.

“Go down there and don’t move until I come get you.”

“What?” She’s horrified at how calm he sounds. “What about you? What if-“

“Do you trust me?“ He cuts her off. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

She’s still hesitant, a bullet flies past them and shatters a window somewhere and she jumps, her hands coming up to cover her ears.

“Hey!” He yells again, she takes one hand away from the side of her head. “We’ll be fine. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you right? Stay low, baby and you’ll be okay, so will i. Go!“

He turns to shoot at the window again and this time she doesn’t hesitate. She runs into the alley and doesn’t look back, crouching down behind an old dumpster. Holy shit, she can’t believe she just left Tommy out there. Not that she could help him but, what if he dies? What the fuck aas she meant to do? What if the last memory she has of him is how beautiful his eyes looked as he told her to run?

She takes a chance and peeks out of the alley, she can barely see but what she can see is Tommy standing up from behind the car and firing a single shot into the window, it hits whoever was shooting down at him and tumble out of the window and hit the concrete below. Tommy doesn’t even look at them as he steps over their body and rips the door to the building open, and just as quickly as it had happened - Tommy disappears inside the building.

#as always i get so nervous after posting so im posting this at midnight and going to sleep lmao bye #I’ve already started writing a part 4 #im on a roll apparently #idk how many chapters this is gonna have but i do know how this series is gonna end 🤪 teehee #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fic #tommy miller smut #gabriel luna #hbo tommy miller #smut #tlou #dark!tommymiller

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statichvm · 15 days

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people who hoard canon urls….. it’s on sight….

#i say as i hold tommymillers hostage #but.#personal ramblings

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absdoesnothaveabs · 1 year

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World on Hold- The Last of Us

Series Summary: Y/N meets Joel, and they hit it off. Things move very fast, and a few weeks after they start dating she moves into Joel's home. A few months later, a woman shows up at the door claiming to be 6 months pregnant with Joel's baby. Can Joel and Y/N get through it, or will everything go crashing down in flames?

This will be before and during the outbreak! Also, I am making Joel a little older than 16/17 for when sarah is born jut for story purposes.

Pairings: Joel Miller x Y/N ( romantic) Tommy Miller x Y/N (platonic), Eventual Sarah Miller x Y/N (Platonic)

A/N: I just wanna thank @finnsbubblegum for being so incredibly supportive and kind. Check her out! Her fic 'Where It All Starts' Is Incredible!!

CHAPTER ONE

Y/N had always loved coffee. As a child, she would go around the table at her home until she found someone with coffee and gave them puppy dog eyes until she got the cup. Her love only grew as the years went on. Now, as a 20-year-old, she had found the best brew at a café next door to her apartment complex. She went there daily, and the staff knew her name and order. They also knew something was wrong if her order was slightly tweaked, like the muffin she had changed to a pastry. Soon, they became her colleagues and friends.

One day, on her day off, as she sat in the coffee shop, she waited for a blind date her new friend Tommy had set her up with. He was his brother, and his name was Joel. That was all he told her.

She was reading The Bourne Identity and was so engrossed that she didn't notice the incredibly attractive man sitting across from her until he cleared his throat.

Y/N immediately looked up as the man smirked at her. "Oh god, I am so sorry, how long have you been sitting there?" She said apologetically, "Not long, but it was cute watching you anyway," said the man.

"You must be Joel, then. I'm Y/N." "It's nice to meet you, gorgeous."

"Calling me gorgeous already, huh? Fast, aren't we?."

"Oh honey, you ain't seen nothing yet."

They immediately hit it off. A few weeks after that day, Y/N sold her apartment, quit her job and moved into Joel's home that he shared with Tommy, who had become a very close friend of Y/N's. Y/N had recently graduated from college with a teacher's degree, so she began working at the primary school two streets over. She still visited the coffee shop, just not every day.

Joel and Y/N were in love. Joel proposed two months in, and Y/N immediately agreed. Everything was going so well for them.

Until that horrible night.

There was a star wars special showing on the TV, so Joel, Tommy and Y/N were all sat on the couch, watching the movie marathon.

Halfway through A New Hope, there was a knock on the door. Joel went to answer it. It had been a few minutes and Y/N was getting worried.

"Nikki, what the fuck are you saying?" "Joel, let me come in, this a conversation that is best held indoors," a woman's voice, presumably Nikki, pleaded.

"Fine."

Y/N and Tommy were now both very interested. They had turned the TV off and were listening intently.

A very pregnant woman walked into the living room and sat down on the chair opposite the couch. Tommy's eyes grew wide, while Y/N was just confused.

Joel walked and sat next to Y/N. He took her hand with the engagement ring in his. The woman noticed this and asked "Who is this, Joel?"

Y/N instantly replied with, "I'm his fiancée, and I could be asking you the same thing."

"My name is Nikki Ann Sampson. I went to high school with Joel."

"I'm Y/N Rose Clancy, soon to be Miller. I'm engaged to Joel and I'm best friends with Tommy. May I ask why you are here?"

Y/N was being very civil and polite, but she knew that something was very wrong. Joel was getting visibly upset, and impatient.

"You mind telling me what the hell you're here for Nikki Ann?" Joel asked.

Nikki took a breath in, then told the the devastating news that would alter Joel's life forever.

"I'm 6 months pregnant, Joel. You're gonna be a daddy."

"What?"

Please let me know if you liked it!

#joelmiller #joelmillerxy/n #joel the last of us #thelastofus #tommymiller #finnsbubblegum #pedropascal #pedro #pascal

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

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omg, are we gonna get to read anything about when joel and MC start their own channel once they start dating 🙈 ik know those videos are probably hot as fuck. I’m also dead at the thought of joel and tommy both being pornstars n owning their own company, i can’t imagine seeing my siblings naked lol that’s wild (im assuming they’ve seen each others videos? maybe?)

Good morning Nonnie!! YES! So the next part is going to be Joel and the readers first time together (it’s gonna be hot af) and Joel actually isn’t going to upload their first time because it’s so special and he wants to keep it for himself 🤭🤭

He does however post a couple gifs from the scene to tease his followers/subscribers that he will be posting content with a new partner and people go FERAL (it’s me, I go feral)

Then the second time they film a scene together is when he’ll actually post it & then they start regularly filming together (before and during dating)

I’m so glad you brought Tommy into the conversation because there will be a part where the reader meets Tommy for the first time because Joel wants them to get aquatinted both to film scenes but also just in general!

Joel and Tommy have already previously discussed a possible MMF scene or a cuck situation (only if the reader is comfortable)

But the second the reader meets Tommy she’s trying to hide how flustered she is because she’s watched Tommy’s videos as well and Joel basically tells his brother while the reader is in the bathroom to treat the reader to a good time and when she returns and Tommy starts flirting, she immediately grabs his hand and pulls him outside 🥵 they fuck in his truck

#mailbox #mail received #nonnie <3 #joel miller #tommy miller #pornstar!tommymiller

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jolieuphoric · 1 year

Text

the last of us headers

like or reblog if save🤍

#serie #netflix #hbo max #the last of us #tlou #tlouedit #tlouheader #pedropascal #bellaramsey #joelmiller #elliewilliams #sarahmiller #tommymiller

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lynnythepynny · 1 year

Text

neighborhood heart-throb

tw/cw : smut || fem!reader || oral sex (fem!receiving) || praise kink || mentions of alcohol || pining || pornwplot || awkward-ish plot || joel is giving single divorced dad vibes

he’s gorgeous.

god how does he not know it?

when you first moved in he was the first to offer his help. him and his brother came over first thing the next morning. both of them were exceptionally sweet, but you were captivated by him. those big strong arms carrying your vanity all the way to your bedroom without complaint. the veins that ran from his knuckles up to elbows. and that greying, short, fluffy hair that jus covered his forehead and kinda curled around his neck and ears.

after a long day of squeezing furniture through your front door, joel and tommy, though exhausted, had kindly refused any kind of payment except for a bit of spaghetti that you’d neatly packaged up for them both to take home. though you may have put a little more care into joel’s.

after that joel would wave to you as he packed his truck for work or when he would take a break from mowing the lawn. he bore a kind smile on his usually stern face every time, asking how you were settling in if your window was open. sometimes you would slip in a small issue just to pique his interest.

“my sink just ain’t draining right mr. miller. could ya fix it for me?”

“that storm last night just happened to take out a bit of my siding mr. miller.”

“mr. miller could you install this new shower head for me?”

of course, you could most likely figure all of those issues out yourself with your own toolbox. hell that shower head came with package instructions. he didn’t have to know that though.

for now you’d use all the excuses possible to get him to come over. plumbing issues, renovations, even leftover dinner (which he oddly always declined). and this was no different today as you gazed out into your neighbor’s backyard. the window was open and you could just barely hear the birds singing, their beautiful trill sadly overwhelmed by the hum of that old mower. summer was certainly here in texas. the brutal sun had burnt you plenty of times over already and the grass between joel’s house and yours was growing faster than ever.

your hands are busy in the sink, scrubbing away at a wine glass from days prior, but your eyes are busy watching his back as he pushes the lawnmower. the steaming hot water on the back of your hand brings you back to your own reality. you rinse the glass out, place it on the drying rack, and pick up a small whiskey glass in it’s place.

tonight you’d planned on making something to cool you down. popsicles were freezing for dessert and you’d already made a batch of lemonade, but you really have absolutely no idea what to make for dinner.

the hum of the mower grows louder as joel comes up on your window. he kicks the old machine off and grins up into your window.

“how’re you doin tonight miss?” his sultry accent slides right off his tongue and suddenly your stomach flutters slightly. you smile and wave.

“i’m doing just fine mr. miller, how about yourself?”

he runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair and chuckles. “tommy’s got me workin horrible hours. had’ta beg him for a day off.” with one hand on his hip he gestures out to his finished yard, clearly exhausted, “an even then, the work never truly stops.”

you nod along sympathetically, truly upset to see the poor man so tired. you could only imagine how hard it must be, being a single dad and working for so long.

an idea sparks in your brain.

“mr. miller,” you hum, leaning up against the window sill, “how ‘bout you come over for dinner tonight?”

his face drops and both his hands come up in front of his chest, “oh no miss, i’d hate to impose-”

“you’re not imposin’, for the millionth time.” you roll your eyes dramatically, earning a small chuckle from joel, “just come on over after you put sarah to bed. i’ll make dinner and you can relax.”

joel seems to contemplate the idea for a moment, scratching his scruffy cheeks in thought. you watch, your hands white knuckling the whiskey glass, fearful that you'll receive another polite rejection.

a puff of air blows from between his lips as he finally relents.

“alright, i s’pose i’ll be over tonight.”

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

giddy didn't even begin to explain your current feelings. you were ecstatic, over the moon, befuddled, but also, simply anxious as many people are when they host a dinner at their home, especially for somebody they admire.

you stand in front of your fridge a few hours later, robe wrapped tight around your waist with a towel still on your head. joel still hasn't text back telling you what he wants to eat.

he didn’t look like much of a soup or stew man. you think maybe he would be a griller. all dads are right? and he had told you he was a hunter before. but you don't have a grill and the only meat you currently have is a package of chicken breasts anyways, which you can't see yourself doing much with if you did even own a grill.

*ping*

your eyes catch the message on your screen before it fades

i’ll eat whatever you make. i liked your pasta.

perfect.

you grab the chicken, a package of frozen noodles, and the ingredients you’d need for a sauce and get to work.

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

dinner is still in the works when your doorbell rings. you jump a slight bit, wooden spoon falling to the ground with a harsh clatter.

“just a moment!” you call out even though you know very well who it is.

you quickly pick up the spoon and cover the cooking pasta with a lid. once you get to the door you take a deep, slow breath and reassure yourself.

this isn’t a date. you’re just trying to get him out of his house. into your house. to get to know him better. it’s a win - win situation for you both really. nothing bad will happen.

you swing the door open with a small smile. low and behold joel is standing on your front porch, a large bowl held gently in his hands. your eyes rake over him before you can tell yourself to be subtle.

his peppery hair is freshly washed and pushed back in a neat style. a few stubborn strands fall astray here and there but it all seems to add to his cool and stubborn charm. you can tell by the strong smell of his aftershave that his beard has been trimmed and seemingly brushed over. the hairs definitely weren’t that neat when you last saw him. your eyes stray a little lower and you can’t help but gaze at his chest in that tight black shirt he’s wearing. the red flannel layered over it doesn’t do much to cover the muscle he’s built over the years.

“what have you got there?” you ask, blinking rapidly to try and clear your mind.

“it’s just ah,” he avoids eye contact, his fingers thrumming against the sides of the bowl, “just a salad. i figured i’d bring over somethin’ so you didn’t have to do all the cookin’.”

you smile appreciatively and step to the side. “thank you joel. you can just set it on the dinin’ table.” he nods as he walks past you into your kitchen. looking at your ingredient cluttered counter, you suddenly wished you’d picked up a little.

as you try and stuff down your insecurity, and make sure that dinner is still coming along, joel has a peek around your home. with absolutely no cares about how unkempt your kitchen appears, he wanders through the threshold and into the lounge, his hands now stuffed comfortably into his jean pockets. you watch him from a ways back for a moment, simply taking in the way he strides around so comfortably.

he saunters up to your fireplace, gazing at your family photos, and picks up a picture of you and your older brother.

“boyfriend?” he asks, not-so-subtly trying to make the question seem casual. when you almost burst out laughing, catching yourself with a hand slapped over your mouth, his face morphs into some befuddled expression.

“no,” your words come out breathy as you recover, taking the photo from joel and settling it back into it’s place, “that’s my older brother. nice guess though.”

a moment of silence passes between you two as joel processes this information. you hold a shit-eating grin on your face as you continue to hold back sudden bouts of laughter.

“so no boyfriend?” his brow cocks slightly in your direction. you give the same curious look and cross your arms over your chest.

“why’re you so curious mr. miller?”

joel bites the inside of his cheek, his exhausted eyes meeting your lively ones. he takes in your features, admiring the soft look of your skin and the gentle curl of your lips as you break into a smile. “no reason.” he spits the words out confidently, his own arms coming up to cross below his chest. “i was just curious. i don’t wanna make the same mistake with a picture of you n’ your cousin.”

you roll your eyes and let your arms drop. “okayy.”

as you walk past him to take dinner off the stove, you wonder if you’d read that conversation right. he was definitely asking to make sure you were single. right? or maybe he really was just asking out of curtesy. like how older relatives always pry at the younger ones' love lives around the holidays.

you were terrified to flirt too confidently, fearful you would say something wrong or make joel uncomfortable. he was quite a bit older than you after all and was most likely much more adept in conversation, something you had always struggled to get a real grasp on. his 46th birthday had just come around a few months ago.

fuck he was literally old enough to be your dad.

you push those thoughts to the back of your head and try to focus on plating your chicken fettuccine. you set the table, one plate on either side, and uncover joel’s salad that sits in the middle of the table.

you pop the fridge open and call out to your guest. “do you want lemonade or wine, joel?”

“depends what kinda wine you’ve got in there miss.” he walks back into the kitchen and watches as you pull a rounded bottle from the fridge door.

“ah, it’s a red semi-sweet,” you hum, “shiraz i think?”

"sounds good to me.” he’d always been a bit more of a beer guy, they were easier on his body, but he’d never turn away a good red wine if anyone offered. so while you were busy popping the bottle open, he was busy preparing two of your recently washed wine glasses, still setting on the drying rack.

he takes a rag he presumes is clean enough and wipes the outsides of the glasses down carefully, then sets them next to you. with slightly shaky hands you fill each glass just about 3/4 of the way full.

“easy tiger, i gotta know where my front door is when i leave here.” joel teases, picking up both glasses and carefully setting them next to each of your plates. you follow closely behind with the wine bottle and scoff.

“if you can’t find it i’d be more than happy to help you.”

“that’s real kind of you. and so is all this.” he makes a grand gesture to the table, smiling at you over the salad bowl, “thank you for dinner tonight.” joel fishes the salad tongs out of the dish itself and settles a healthy helping of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers on the side of your plate. once satisfied with your portion he moves on to his own plate.

“oh it’s no trouble at all really. you look as if you could use a night away.” you reassure him eagerly before digging into your plate.

“you’re right about that.” he chuckles, taking a slow sip of his wine, “i got tommy lookin’ after sarah tonight. figured i better not eat n run.”

“you are just such a kind soul.” you tease, reaching for your wine to wash down the thick fettuccine sauce.

this was nice, you think. it was nice to have someone to share a sense of humor with, someone who could not only tease you, but enjoyed when you shot back with the same attitude. joel just made conversation seem so smooth and easy.

joel tucks in to his own plate of pasta, wrapping the noodle around his fork so he didn’t have to slurp like a true gentleman. as he goes to push the food into his mouth though, the noodle slips and he slurps it up so fast that the end whacks him on the tip of his nose.

sauce dots joel’s nose bridge and stains his mustache. normally he’d be a bit irritated by the failure of his first bite but the way you laugh at his fuck up and those first few sips of wine have his heart feeling a lot lighter tonight.

joel glides his tongue over his mustache, collecting the leftover sauce that he can reach all while making eye contact with you over the table. you watch him do so and shift a little in your seat.

suddenly your face feels hot.

“so,” you avert your gaze and pick up another noodle, “what do you actually do for work?”

“mmm,” joel nods, currently wiping at his face with a napkin, “me n’ tommy are carpenters. flooring, framing, building walls, you name it.” he takes another small bite and put a hand over his mouth to speak. “tommy’s been talkin’ bout starting his own contracting business though. wants me to join him.”

you nod along eagerly, brows raising at what you can only assume is good news. “you should. you guys would be good at it. especially with all the practice i’ve given you over here.”

joel’s eyes crinkle as he laughs and raises his glass to his lips. the red wine goes down smooth and he finds himself subconsciously taking bigger and bigger swigs each time. “what about you miss? what are you doin’ for work?”

“i’m workin’ from home right now. i specialize in graphic design for companies.” you judge his expression as approval, maybe even surprise, and continue with your explanation. “i’ve got a trip comin’ up soon. they’re flying me out to new york city for it.”

“we’ll have to celebrate before you go then.” joel offers, “dinner can be my treat this time.”

“that sounds wonderful.” you agree, cleaning your plate of the remnants of chicken and salad.

joel pushes his chair back and stands, taking his empty plate and silverware in his hand. "finished?' he asks, leaning down to be able to look you in the eyes. you gaze up at him, almost feeling stupid as you nod wordlessly. you manage to slip in a quick "thank you joel" as he turns away.

a gentle hum is all you get in response. joel is busy spraying down the plates in the sink.

you stand up as well, pushing in both of your chairs and gathering your wine glass in your hands. "so," you take a small sip of wine, "if you don't wanna eat n run, what do you s'pose we do?" joel chuckles to himself as he joins you, his own wineglass in hand.

"i s'pose we see if that fireplace of yours works." he nudges you with his elbow as he walks past, a grin lining his wine-reddened lips. you follow quickly behind and settle yourself on the cushy sofa.

"have you burned it before?"

"ah, not yet. There should be some wood inside but i was 'fraid i'd burn the house down." you respond, finishing off your glass of wine in one big swing.

the fireplace wasn't really anything fancy. it held your tv atop it, serving more as a decorative piece rather than something you'd use often. rusted wrought iron doors kept stray pieces of cloth, paper, or string from catching light. dark oak that matched the rest of your home made up the rest of structure, encasing your tv in a box with a mantle above it.

joel crouches down in front of it with a stiff groan, you can even hear his knees crack, and eases the iron doors open. "i'm sure we'll be just fine." he tugs a lighter from his jean pocket and clicks it on. using the small flame joel lets a smaller twig catch fire before tossing it on the logs. "we'll see how we get along with that."

It's not long before the fire is practically roaring in your lounge. All the times you'd curled up in a blanket because it was too cold in the house and you seriously could have just lit a fire with a spare lighter and been sweating in minutes.

you really don't know if the wine or the fire has contributed to the warmth on your face more. all you know is that the way joel is sitting on your sofa, his legs spread slightly, one large hand resting on his thigh and the other currently pouring you another glass of wine, is making you want to slide closer. you can still smell his after shave. the musky smell wafts off him and you wonder if he seriously got this ready just to see you.

"watcha lookin' at, hm?"

"huh?" your head snaps up and your mouth hangs agape a bit, completely caught off guard.

joel chuckles, his smile wide enough that you can see his teeth this time. "you just zoned out a lil' there." he lays a hand on your shoulder, slowly dragging it down towards your elbow.

a shiver races up your spine at the feeling of his callused hands on your skin and you blurt, "oh, i was just thinking."

joel must be really feeling the wine too because suddenly he's very invested in your thoughts. "what about?" he prods, letting his fingers continue to linger on your arm. you find yourself leaning into his touch and even scooting a little closer to the older man on the couch.

"nothin' important." you hum, simply staring back at him.

joel does the same, his green eyes flitting over your features as if he's drinking you in. finally, they land on your lips. plush, soft, and stained red from your consistent sipping of the wine. his fingers twitch restlessly against your arm and you think you see something change in his eyes.

before you can pinpoint his expression joel is setting his wine to the side and leaning in closer, his now free hand hovering close to your cheek. a moment of silence passes between the two of you as joel searches for words. blood seems to roar in your ears as you anticipate the question you know he'll ask.

"can i kiss you?"

you've never been more sure about anything as you briskly nod your head and the both of you lean in.

his lips are warm and a little rough but you melt into the kiss nonetheless. joel holds a hand on the back of your head, the other pulling you closer and closer until you end up on his lap. not knowing what to do, your hands find a home against his chest. your heart is racing and your stomach is fluttering. all of your past experience seems to fly out the window and you're not even sure if you're doing things right.

the seam of his jeans catches against your covered clit as joel adjusts his hips a bit, though you know it's on purpose. your sharp nails dig into the smooth cloth of his t-shirt, earning a little groan from joel's lips in return. the sound is a gruff vibrato that rumbles from his chest. you can only imagine how his moans sound. your mind begins to run wild and the feeling in your belly rises, thighs tightening around his hips in an effort to feel something.

joel's large hands roam over your body. from your shoulders to your hips, your ass to your thighs. he gropes and squeezes every supple expanse of flesh he can find but makes a valiant attempt to make his touches at least a bit more gentle. as his lips pull away from yours, significantly puffier and shiner, you notice how they puff out with the effort of huffing for air.

he smiles and grabs one of your hands. "how're you feelin' sweet pea?"

a giddy feeling runs through your body at the new nickname. no more of the uncomfortable "miss". it almost felt like a promotion. "i feel good." you tell him, running your thumb gently over his knuckles.

"yeah?" he stares at you adoringly, pushing your hair out of your face, "do you wanna keep goin'? maybe move on to your room?"

"god, yes." you sigh heavily, your hand tightening slightly around his.

"alright." joel laughs heartily at your reaction, his cheeks going bright red. he grips your thighs and pulls you closer to his stomach. "put your arms around me, pretty." of course you do as he tells you to, arms interlocking at the nape of his neck. once you're secure, joel pushes himself up from the couch cushions and sets off towards your bedroom. the skin on his neck is warm and inviting, smelling heavily of that same damn enticing aftershave. you kiss along his collarbone, over his shoulder, and up his neck.

joel kicks your door open gently with the toe of his boot and crosses the threshold into your bedroom. his heel taps the door shut. you start to get a little more nervous, the hazy buzz of the wine starting to wear off, and as joel lays you down on the edge of your bed he seems to catch on.

his thumb caresses your cheek as he hums, "we can stop anytime you want sweet heart. we can stop right now if you want to okay? just say the word." you nod briskly, lips shut tight in embarrassment. "use your words, tell me if you wanna stop."

"no, i wanna keep going." you tell him, tugging on his flannel collar, "i'm just a little nervous."

joel smiles warmly and nods. "i understand. we'll just take it slow, okay?"

"okay." you breathe.

his hands run down your hips and over your belly. he slides them up under your back and urges you to move up to the headboard where you'd undoubtedly be more comfortable. there's a soft *puff* as your head sinks into the cloud like pillows that he had unknowingly picked out for you when you first moved in. joel kicks off his boots and then crawls after you, fully on his hands and knees, his pupils blown up with lust.

you lean upwards, capturing his lips with yours, and drag him back down with you with a hand on his cheek. joel hums against your mouth, almost giggling into the kiss like a teenage boy. the action is contagious and soon the both of you are separated and laughing softly.

once the both of you were calmed down, joel begins toying with the hem of your t-shirt. "can i take this off sweet pea?"

"of course." you murmur, freely allowing his warm hands to slide up under your shirt, exploring your the soft skin on your belly. once he reaches your ribcage, he pushes the fabric up and over your head revealing your breasts to the cool air in your room.

"shit." he huffs, eyes raking over your body. "you are so pretty sweet heart." joel continues where he left off with you, first placing a kiss on your lips, then your cheek, your jaw, and gradually beginning to travel lower. his lips roam across your neck slowly, stopping every now and then when he finds a particularly sensitive spot that causes you to squirm underneath him. hickeys begin to line your collar bones and, as he continues to go even farther south, the tops of your breasts.

he brings a hand up to test the waters, gently massaging your flesh. your head falls back a bit and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. "does that feel good, hm?" he rumbles.

"yes." the response is airy, your head feeling cloudy as he continues to practically make you melt into the mattress. the only thoughts in your head right now are about him. you are completely, utterly, totally, focused on him.

joel kisses down your sternum, his beard scratching against your skin. "good," he hums quietly, almost grumbling against your belly, "that's what i like to hear." he continues to lay wet kisses along the top of your abdomen. his fingers tease at your waist band, tugging on the stretchy fabric just far enough to allow his mouth to place a gentle kiss beneath.

"joel," you whine, shifting your hips, "please."

his fingers dip below the waistband of your pants yet again, this time toying with the top of your underwear in the process. joel's eyes meet yours, sweet and soft under his thick brows. "can i take these off?" a brisk nod is all he needs to continue, popping the button on your slacks and tugging them down along with your underwear.

you gaze up at him and, when his eyes meet yours, he smiles warmly. "doin' okay?"

"i'm doin' great." you respond, fingers tingling in anticipation as he sinks down between your legs, the muscles in his broad shoulders almost rippling. joel hums in approval, taking his time to kiss his way up your thighs. his teeth nip here and there, leaving purple and red bruises all along your flesh. when he finally reaches your cunt, he blows cool air over pushes sopping folds, chuckling at your surprised hiss. joel swipes his tongue over his lips before finally leaning in.

you gasp at the surprisingly warm feeling of his tongue on your slit, your hips pressing into the mattress.

"ah, ah, don't run." joel murmurs, holding your hips with his arms as he fully digs in. the arch of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit as joel pushes his tongue past your entrance. his tongue curls and pulls, pressing right against that spongey spot that makes your toes curl. hot pleasure runs down your legs and you squeeze your thighs tight around his head. joel chuckles in response, only pulling you closer with his muscular arms.

a rather loud moan of his name falls past your lips and you grab hold of the man's hair, tugging as your arms tense up with the pleasure. the soft tip of his tongue traces a figure eight over your clit repeatedly, the sensation making your knees quake.

"that's right sweetheart," joel encourages you with a muffled groan, his scraggly beard scraping wondrously over the soft plush of your thighs, "cum on my tongue. it's okay." you're entire body trembles, a feeling like no other running up your spine and out through your arms and legs. your chest feels full as you huff and puff, trying to keep yourself quiet.

one of your legs rests over his shoulder, encased in his grip and trembling harshly against his clothes, while the other is left to lay free on the mattress. joel runs his palm along your skin, soothing you, keeping you grounded as you practically lose your mind.

you're right on the precipice, moans slipping out unabashedly at this point. with one more rough scrape of his beard, his tongue lauving up your folds and over your clit, you finally cum.

your chin tilts up and your eyes squeeze shut. joel grunts as your grip on his short hair tightens dramatically, but he doesn't pull away. instead he works you through your orgasm, keeping your hips pressed down, his tongue still lapping gently at your sore clit. you whimper pathetically at the feeling of his wet beard still grazing over your folds. the sharp bristles stick to his lips and cheeks, completely saturated with your cum.

joel raises his head when you've finished and the sight of him makes your head spin.

his eyes are dazed, lips puffy, wet, and red, and his beard is soaked to a deep brown. "you did such a good job sweet pea." joel's hands rub over your thighs and up to your stomach.

"thank you." you huff, smiling up at him as you recover. one of your hands grabs his collar and tugs the man down to your level. you place a sloppy, wet kiss on his lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

when you release his collar, joel pulls away with heavy breaths. his eyes are completely blown up now, almost black, with desire. his hips slot between your own, replacing his face with rough denim, strained against his hard cock. desperate to get him in the same situation as yourself, you begin to push his flannel down his arms.

"steady now," joel laughs, helping you to get his t shirt off, "there's no need to rush sweet heart." as he tosses the fabric to the floor, his lips meet yours for a brief kiss. as much as you want to pull him back in for more, but the aching need for his cock outweighs the need for his lips.

joel pops the button on his jeans and shimmies out of them, kicking the denim off the bed into the pile of both your already discarded clothes. you gaze, completely enamored, at his body. his torso is lightly covered in scars from work. though he's well built, you can't find his abs. there's just a bit of fat layered over what you know is strong muscle. you reach out and joel let's your palms wander over his body, feeling all the way up to his chest.

gently, joel takes both your hands and settles them on your own belly. "keep em there. " he commands, thumbs hooking into his boxers. you swallow harshly, throat going dry as he pulls the tight fabric down his legs.

his cock bobs, head flushed and dripping with pre-cum. he was average in length, but god was he thick.

you stare up at joel, wringing your hands on your stomach while seriously contemplating if he would fit. "that won't-" you begin to gush your thoughts, but he shushes you.

"we'll go slow." he promises, kissing your forehead, "you can take it, i know you can." joel sits back on his knees and spits into his hand. you watch as he works his cock slightly, wetting it down to make it as painless as possible.

once he's satisfied, he leans over your body and presses his lips to your cheek. you can feel the wetness from his beard transferring onto your skin. "ready?" he hums.

you nod in response, grabbing at his bicep to prepare yourself.

joel lines himself up with your soaked entrance, running his head through your folds, teasing you just a bit. the feeling makes you want to cry, pathetic desperation running through your veins. you needed him so bad, and he was messing with you?

"joel, please." you spread your legs for him and dig your nails into his arm.

"oh, what a good girl fer me." he mutters, southern accent thickening immensely, "keep 'em just like that pretty."

slowly, joel sinks his hips forward. the head of his cock presses past your hole easily, and you swear you feel every ridge running along your walls. he watches as your nose scrunches and your eyes fall shut. your lips press into a thin line as he thrusts forward gently, pushing in just an inch more.

every pulsing vein catches on your gummy walls. you almost feel too full when he continues, pushing himself forward inch by inch, keeping his promise to go slow and be gentle. your legs are trembling, nails just about to draw blood from his strained bicep, as he finally bottoms out.

the both of you gasp, hot, heavy breaths hitting each other's faces as joel rests his forehead on yours. it's intimate, the way the arch of his nose settles against yours, the way you can feel his breath gently brushing against your lips. you tilt your head just slightly, catching his lips in a kiss that joel readily replies too. his mouth is hot, lips plush and soft as he kisses you back passionately. you gasp against his lips as joel pulls his hips back slowly, till just his tip rests inside of you.

your hands grapple at his shoulders, clawing and scraping as joel thrusts back into you in one fluid motion. he keeps his movements gentle for the moment, still pressing kisses to your lips, but as the pace picks up, the tip of his cock nudging at your gspot, you lose the energy to kiss him back.

joel watches your face through hooded eyes, your chin tilted and cheeks a bright rouge. your eyes were practically closed, just your pupil's peeking out between your lashes as you gaze back up at him. your hair was ruffled across your damp forehead, some strands sticking to your skin while others stuck straight up.

to him, you were possibly the prettiest mess he had ever seen. what he would give to be able to see this perfect portrait of you every night. your beautiful body spread out, though this time on his sheets, while he fucked you stupid.

staring back down at your fucked out expression, joel chuckles. "you feelin' good pretty baby?" he asks.

"mhm." the sound barely comes out past your quiet whimpers and moans. your brain felt numb, like it was melting into mush, and thoughts no longer swam around your mind. the only thing you even wanted to think of was the heavy drag of his cock along your quivering walls, punishing your cunt with the rough yet steady pace he had set.

"use your words sweet pea," he uses his hand to brush the hair from your forehead.

"yes, fuck, yes joel." you cry to him, your sharp nails digging through the skin on his shoulders all the way down to his waist.

"atta girl," joel growls, his teeth gritting at the burning pleasure that now runs all the way down his back. your cunt squeezes him at the gravelly sound of his voice. he whimpers, voice cracking, as he asks, "gonna cum on my cock, huh?"

"yeah," you puff, "yeahyeahyeah-" you lose track of how many times you tell him yes. you only know the burning hot pleasure that's building in your belly. joel keeps his forehead pressed to yours, his free hand cupping your jaw gently.

"look at me baby," he demands, very carefully nudging your jaw upwards, "just let it go," he's kissing the tense parts of your face, shushing you as you whimper and cry out that it's all too much, "it's okay sweet girl, i've got you."

that's when the pressure in your belly finally overflows. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close so that you can bury your face in his neck. you chant his name like a prayer, right next to his ear just to make sure he can hear.

joel's thrusts become sloppy, his hips canting wildly forward, and his breathing starts to grow shallow. you feel his cock twitch inside of you, but just before joel finishes he pulls out completely. he groans, his nose scrunching, fists squeezing the pillow behind you, as his release lands across your belly.

for a moment all that's heard is the quick breaths between the two of you. a warm feeling grows in your chest as joel presses his face into your neck, sighing heavily.

and then you laugh a little.

"what?" joel picks himself up and looks at you, puzzled.

"nothing," you hum, still dazed, and cup his face, "we should clean up."

"right." he agrees, staring back into your eyes for a second before kissing your forehead. "c'mon then, i'll run you a bath."

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bert2011-blog · 2 years

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A Helping Hand (Joel x Pregnant Reader) - Chapter 7 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1132629127-a-helping-hand-joel-x-pregnant-reader-chapter-7?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=EnglandRugby&wp_originator=3e%2FQMd7qBV6UL4xCQMcMhDgknvIfa%2BJ7348B7JHbRJ9Mg0sjLxhEqI6e5o4i4r%2FAbC%2BIAS4JaUQF2rvV8O4ZSVd3diuAqt%2Fb%2FHf4ShfhR1%2FATrSuuS5EAieh9%2B6watSM As a woman who is pregnant you are doing anything if it means survival. Even so you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it the other way around? Now you are in the community of Jackson and you can't help but attract a certain pair of hazel eyes. Will be posted every Wednesday! I do Not own any of the characters in this story

#angst #dina #elliewilliams #eventualangst #eventualfluff #fluff #jesse #joelmiller #joelmillerxpregnantreader #joelmillerxreader #mariamiller #softjoelmiller #tommymiller #xpregnantreader #xreader #fanfiction #books #wattpad #amreading

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foxtrology · 26 days

Text

tinder!joel ✪

one of my first works, let me know if you would like more. follow me on twitter (foxtrology).

→ age gap

joel & y/n’s tinder profiles

y/n and joel swiping right for each other

when they matched

bonus: a year later on instagram!

liked by joelm, sarahsmiller and 102 others

yourinstagram cowgirl and cowboy

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tommymills You both are gross. But cute. Love you guys.

sarahsmiller yeah yeah, shut up

tommymills Byeeeeee

yourfriend1 my cuties

sarahsmiller oh my god i love you both so freaking much

yourinstagram aweeee sar!!!

yourfriend2 love the millers!

joelm I love you so much sweetheart ❤️

yourinstagram i love you more baby

liked by yourinstagram, yourfriend1 and 18 others

joelm Forever my sweetheart

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yourfamilymember1 She’s always so happy around you Joel!

yourinstagram you finally posted on instagram! congratulations old man! ❤️

joelm Old man huh?

yourfriend2 stunning as always

sarahsmiller how did you get her? we will never know. 🙈

joelm Oh…

sarahsmiller just KIDDING. love you dad

liked by yourinstagram, joelm and 211 others

sarahsmiller on the way to ride horses and break our bones! good luck to us. at least we have a fun teacher (y/n)!!!!

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tommymills Joel is definitely going to break his back

yourinstagram who is saying he didn’t already?

sarahsfriend1 have fun millers 🙌

yourinstagram also why does joel look so good???!

(joelm liked this comment!)

sarahsfriend2 invite me next timeeeee

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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year

Note

CONGRATSSSSS I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU

.🛏 tommy miller, there was only one bed?!

cece you deserve ALL of this love!!! <3

RY THANK YOU I LOVE YOU TOOO YOU AMAZING HUMAN <33

One Bed? / Tommy Miller Imagine

(I do not own the Last of Us or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @tommymiller.)

Warning: a little strong language!

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Are you shitting me?'

Tommy drops his backpack to the floor and looks over to his brother with a disbelieving eyebrow raise. Joel just scoffs and kicks a piece of glass back towards the empty rows of grimy petrol station shelves, coughing as he raises a cloud of dust. 'It'll sure be nice and cosy for the two of you. Besides, it's only for one night and then we've only a few miles till we reach Cincinnati.' He sniffs, fiddling with the safety of his gun whilst Tommy squats down onto the floor beside the till. You wander up behind him, peering around his shoulder and past the abandoned, and very outdated magazines with an approving nod.

'The mattress doesn't look too dirty', you mutter, rolling back your tired and achy shoulders with a sigh. Tommy glances behind his shoulder at you and tries to muster a smile, even despite his own weariness. With aching feet, he reaches out a hand for you, which you gladly accept, and haul him to his feet.

You notice the way he doesn't let go.

Instead, he fiddles with the pads of your fingers intently as he frowns at his brother, who's currently untying his roll from beneath the flap of his bag and splaying it out in the air. It settles to the ground of the narrow walkway with an unceremonious bow, and it takes Joel even less time to flop down onto it himself. With a grunt, he shuffles his hips forward, places his hands behind his head, and lays down on the slightly damp material with both eyes firmly shut.

You could feel Tommy bristle next to you; it had been a hard couple of weeks, between finally escaping the clutches of the cannibalistic hunters you had stumbled upon near the outskirts of Fairfield, to losing every member of the survivor's group you had met in the nearby forest to an exceptionally large horde of clickers. Arguments and blame had flown freely between the two brothers, spat and seethed at each other as both tried to struggle to survive, and mourn their losses. You couldn't blame them: Sarah's death had broken you too, and you knew that despite how hard he tried to supress the foul feelings, Joel was still sour that the two of you still had each other.

Tommy can't bite his tongue. 'That's not what I'm talking about, dumbass. How come you get the whole shop floor to yourself, and me and poor Y/n are shoved in behind the counter? Especially since we've been the ones carrying most of the cans.' You let go of his hand and turn back to your new makeshift bed, trying to hide away from the upcoming fight you can feel brewing between the two stubborn brothers.

Joel tries his best to half-shrug from where he's lying, not even bothering to open his eyes. 'I told you to leave those behind. No one even likes canned peaches.'

'I do!' you chip in from where you're rustling in your satchel to try and find your musty rolled up blanket. 'And this will do no problem. It'll be nice not to have to sleep on dirt for a change.' With a celebratory 'aha!', you manage to shuffle your own blanket out and lay it down on the dipping springs. You peer behind you, noticing the way Tommy's back is twitching and his breath is coming out in furious gasps: a sure-fire sign that he wants to say something bitter and unfair. Yet, Tommy Miller isn't a callous man, and so he turns back towards you with a fond smile despite the sadness and weariness in his eyes. Uncrossing his arms, he places both of them on his hips and comes strolling towards you.

'I know you're right', he breathes out as he comes to sit on the mattress beside you, flopping his head back until he hits the side of yours. His eyes are wide and apologetic, shining with affection as he feels his lips widen into a grin at the set of you cross legged next to him. 'You're always right, you know that? How did you get to be so damn smart, hanging around two idiots like us?'. You huff out a laugh and shake your head, bumping your own head tenderly against his side in return. He doesn't complain when you reach out and grab his hand, unfurling his fingers so you can lay the back of them on your lap and draw circles on his palm. He immediately calms down, his tense shoulders falling back down with an air of contentedness beginning to radiate out from his soggy body.

'And with that, goodnight', Joel mutters out, turning onto his side until he's facing away from the two of you. Even though you can hear his breath evening out, you know from the endless nights of waking up to Joel gasping in the iron grips of nightmares, or to find Joel sitting bleary eyed on his makeshift lookout perch, he wasn't going to sleep much tonight.

It didn't take very long for the two of you to settle down either: Tommy decides the best course of action is to lie on his side, tucking his knees slightly behind him so you can curl as comfortably as you can around his body. It took you even less time to realise how cramped this made you, and so you managed to manoeuvre yourself so your back was against Tommy's stomach, and he was spooning you.

'Budge your butt over a little bit so I can snuggle against you properly' you whisper into the thin wave of moonlight, too busy yawning to notice the way Tommy's hand gingerly rises up. It settles against your arm, and he swallows thickly in the painful silence at the way his so usually stoic fingers are trembling against your shirt.

'Did you just use the word snuggle. What are you, five years old?', he tries to joke back in a whisper that jolts against the back of your ear and makes you groan inwardly in delight.

'You say that, but I don't see you complaining.' His heart thumps painfully against his chest as he chuckles and ducks his head against the back of your neck. He slides his hand down your bicep, choking back an inhale as they slowly slide around the side of your waist until he's holding you tightly. 'You're right', he says, 'I'm not complaining at all.'

'I always knew you were a big sap.'

'Well, only for you.'

A comfortable affinity settles over the two of you as the pockets of starlight continue to burst out between the thick blackness of the night: a strain of hope rising out above the sound of tinkering rain against the tin can roof of the run-down station, and the distant scream of infected from behind the boundaries of the encroaching woodland.

Tommy feels you shiver against his stomach. Not knowing what else to do, he tries to swallow his fear, and his smitten heart, to become using his thumb to rub against your bellybutton. 'Sleep now, Y/n. I'll be here to keep you safe. I promise.' By the amount of emotion in his voice as he chokes on the last part of the sentence, you know he's telling the truth. His vice like grip on you tightens, but you decide not to teasingly mock him in return for how desperately he buried the back of his head in between your shoulder blades; how his leg jarringly, fearfully, infinitely gradually came up rest against your own. You can feel his eyebrows blink hurridly against your the nape of your neck, as if he were thinking furiously, before he takes the chance to lift one of his jeaned thighs and places it timidly over your own. Bless his heart, it must have taken some exertion to hold it the way he did, making sure not to place his full weight on you, but just enough that the contact was physically there.

With a shy smile to yourself, you tuck your chin down against the blanket and happily settle yourself down against the man you love. With a victorious, bashful grin, Tommy listlessly scratches his hand over your stomach, and gets ready to spend a night he's only experienced in his dreams, with the person he's been in love with his whole life.

Before you let sleep cloud your mind and settle you into the sweet embrace of dreams, you just about manage to make out, from behind the shroud, the feel of Tommy Miller's lips press lingeringly against the back of your head.

#tlou #tlou hbo #tommy miller #tommy miller imagine #tommy miller x reader #tlou imagine #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo imagine #the last of us imagine #x reader #Cee's 8000 followers celebration

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vanillabourbon · 10 months

Text

the first of many. | intro | ongoing tlou series

introductory chapter warnings. weaponry. alludes to suicidal thoughts and behavior. mentions of blood and violence. wounds. kinda sad ngl but let’s call it canon. pls let me know if i missed anything.

story pairings. joel miller x reader, tommy miller x platonic!reader

words. 11k (i went a bit overboard, hehe, but editing is going slow so pls ignore any obvious mistakes. this is the first work i’ve taken seriously so please enjoy :))

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

The mind and the body’s initial response is always denial – denial of things, of circumstances, and of situations that are too radical, too unconventional, to believe.

How could anyone believe the events of things as they were? Social and societal constructs had been dismantled in a matter of hours, as if the very fabric of everyone’s being had been tied together by a mere string. The justice and sovereignty in belief, in trust in the nature of things themselves, was apparently so fickle, so haphazardly constructed in the first place, that it took a rapidly spreading infection to displace and make known just how unsafe anything is from harm.

No one should be shocked, really. Least of all you.

In hindsight, which is the only perspective anyone can rely on at a moment’s notice, everything gave way to regret and humiliation. How had no one seen this coming? Everything up until that point in time suddenly seemed so obvious – so commonsensical. It was as if someone had balled up every bad thing and every imperfect thing until it could no longer withstand its own constraints and, instead, chose to flow directly toward the seemingly permanent.

There’s always an element of impermanence in the seemingly permanent.

For whatever reason, now, only a day had passed since the events that led to an abrupt collapse in society as you knew it. You wanted to believe the best – that society and the nature of man would prevent anything from happening. You trusted that the condition of humanity would never outweigh the moral weight of integrity and righteousness. You told yourself that the militant responses of the government were out of necessity and that order and control would fall soon after – or, at least, eventually.

Whether you truly believed that or not no longer mattered.

You were being ushered through the city of Chicago by your older brother, trailing after your uncle, aunt, and two cousins in the wake of another riot. It was dark, darker than any time you had ever stepped foot through the streets of Chicago. And it was bare. Every skitter and harsh knock of a tin trash can sent your brother’s nerves into overdrive; his fingers dug into the flesh of your forearm, dragging you beside him with every step he took. His vice-like grip pained you, but you didn’t bother to tell him that.

You did exactly what he had instructed you before: keep quiet and avoid eye contact.

Military brigades sat empty in the torn and destroyed city streets. Fires engulfed and illuminated countless buildings – convenience stores, pharmacies, mini marts, miscellaneous retail stores. For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a young boy, no older than your small cousins, ducking behind a fire hydrant. Tiny fingers braced against the stained red paint, gripping the rusted bolts as if a life depended on it. Maybe it did. But the boy was gone when you chanced a look back.

“Eyes forward,” your brother mumbled.

You didn’t bother to argue. You were far too consumed with wandering, catching stray remnants of the world around you in your peripheral. Anything and everything surrounding you seemed too fantastical, like a stupor you were unable to shake yourself from. The tall, familiar skyscrapers were in stark contrast to the now empty storefronts and abandoned vehicles.

Even though it felt like the end of something, it seemed like the start of something else. Of what, you didn’t know.

Regardless, you wanted to make no effort to distract or distress your brother any further. You’d never seen him so laser-focused, so adamant about one thing, in your life. It was clear that safety was his top priority, and the thought sent your mind and your heart reeling.

Even if your brother hadn’t been dragging you toward Lawrence Avenue, you felt that your feet would have been bumbling about of their own accord. You were sure they weren’t moving because of anything you were doing. Your mind was elsewhere, eyes flitting to and from every glimpse of dark corners and shattered glass you dared to witness. Surprisingly, it wasn’t fear bubbling up and threatening to overtake your every sense; it was surprise, perhaps confusion.

Your gaze would’ve gotten lost down a dark side road as you were marched by it, but you were torn from your daze. A slight stumble, the slip of a toddler’s foot, caught everyone by surprise. One of your cousins rested in an awkward heap a few feet in front of you, ground having scraped her knee and stray debris nearly slicing her palm as she braced herself. Among stray tires and pieces of burnt wood, she looked so small, so petite. Her face twisted in pain and sadness as she turned about, first to you and your brother as you approached then to her parents only a few steps away.

Without missing a beat, your uncle ushered your aunt forward, pushing her lower back and guiding her to keep going. He did the same with his young son before going back and reaching down, scooping up his daughter from where she lay on the pavement with one hand and reassuring her with the other.

Momentarily, his eyes flitted toward you and your brother. It was the first time he had turned to look at either of you since you started your trek. For a moment, you wondered if he was about to say something.

But he didn’t. He only locked eyes for a second, maybe longer, before he was turning on his heels and picking up his pace to a light jog.

Only minutes had gone by before your family’s pounding footsteps were quieted by shouts and gunfire. A frighteningly sudden halt came when you all jolted to a stop. If things were still, you would’ve been gracious for the moment to rest your feet, for the chance to catch your breath and rock back on your heels to ease the pain from your soles. The act of running was starting to take its toll – stripping and coercing your composure and relief from their rightful place.

Calm felt so far removed. Even more so when the gunfire ceased and a loud, nearly automated voice came over a distant speaker: “ALL REMAINING CIVILIANS MUST REPORT TO ONE OF TWO EMERGENCY MEDICAL CAMPS.”

A tan army vehicle passed by your group just then. It rolled passed, and you all did a poor attempt at ducking into the shadows. Your brother’s grip tightened, if that were even possible, and dragged you to his side. Your breath caught in your throat until the back tire of the vehicle disappeared from sight, rolling down the road and toward the loud din still protruding from two streets over.

Whoever was among the shouting didn’t matter. It was clear that there were a lot of them, and that scared you. The streets had seemed so empty, so shallow. For a moment, you could pretend like your family was all that was left, that you all would make it to your aunt and uncle’s vehicle you’d left at airport parking. Maybe drive until you found a place safe enough to sleep. Wake to a world not burnt and bruised on every side.

It was a good dream. A pipe dream, perhaps, but a good one.

Your uncle was the first to move. He wrapped his arms around your aunt and cousins, driving them down a side street a few feet away. Your brother, a slight wild look in his eye, chanced a look around. For a split moment, he looked as if he was going to grab your wrist and keep running, chance a run-in with the military or with a group of people just as scared as the two of you. But he didn’t. He let out a low huff and dragged you toward the same side street.

Your aunt was huddled a few feet away, partially occluded by shadow and rocking one of your cousins in her arms. She was crouched, whispering, or pleading, something in a low voice. It was almost unnerving to watch her come undone.

Your gaze was torn from the sight when your uncle grunted. He was crouched right beside you, tying your other cousin’s shoes. Your cousin’s small hands were splayed across his back as she tried to balance herself.

“Danny boy, you’re with me,” he finally said. He looked over his shoulder and up at your brother. “We’ll run the rest of the way. It’s just a few blocks.”

You furrowed your brow, stepping forward quickly. Danny’s hand was still locked around your arm, but he made no move to stop you nor speak for himself. “Wait, what?”

Your uncle turned his attention back to the small white strings in his hands, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the small shoelaces. “I know we said we’d get the car checked, but it should run just fine. We’ll come back for them in five minutes, tops.” His head was nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Yeah, yeah. Five minutes. Tops.”

“You can’t be serious.” Since he made no effort to acknowledge you, or to look at either of you again, you turned to your brother. “Is he serious?”

Danny was chewing on his bottom lip then, staring down at your uncle with eyes that did not seem in the least bit alarmed. “You sure about the car?”

“Positive.”

“It’ll run?”

“Should.”

At that point, your chest started to heave. Slightly, but heave all the same. A thickness suddenly but slowly started to coat your throat, like someone had lodged a softball right between your esophagus and windpipe.

Danny might’ve been calling your name, but, if he was, you couldn’t hear him. In seconds, he was dragging you backwards until you were pressed into the wall of the closest building. It was some worn-down bar. Your shoulders dug into the brick. “You have to stay here. Okay? With Aunt Lorraine and the twins.”

And that did it – that truly jolted you. “No,” you protested, hands coming up to grip your brother’s forearms. Now it was your turn to dig your fingers into his flesh. Anything to keep him there and grounded, right beside you, where he belonged. “You can’t just leave me.”

“I have to. We can get the car. Skirt downtown and be on our way to Indiana.”

“What about the military?”

“We can get away from them.”

“How?”

“We can.”

“It’s the military,” you deadpanned.

For a moment, you could almost make out a brief glint of humor in his eyes. The side of his mouth perked up, threatening a smirk that always drove you crazy whenever he found hilarity in situations not in the least bit hilarious. But right now, in this moment, it lifted whatever burden was trying to settle like a rock in your chest. Your brother was still your brother. And, to you, he’d never leave you.

“We just can, alright?” He reasoned. “We have to.”

“Well, what happens when we get to Indiana? What if we can’t find a place to stay?”

“You let me worry about that.”

“But, that’s the problem, Danny. You don’t worry about these things.”

You finally broke eye contact then. Pools of tears were beginning to form, blurring your vision and making everything around you swim.

“Well, that’s why I need you, isn’t it? Gives me an incentive to actually come back for you.”

You scoffed, a slight sniffle leaving you as you did. “As if you’d ever leave me behind.”

“Hey, we need to go, kid,” Your uncle said.

Afar off, he had long since stood and was waiting for your brother at the mouth of the street. When you turned toward him, he looked away, chancing a quick look both ways before exiting the shadows entirely. He loitered there, clearly waiting for Danny to join him.

Your brother had completely ignored him, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “Exactly. That’s why you have to trust me when I say I will come back.”

When you returned his gaze, his eyes were as earnest as you had ever seen them. He was telling you the truth and trying his hardest to make sure you believed him before he took off. You did, of course, but something was making every nerve in your body hot and every hair on your head stand. Something wasn’t right.

“I trust your word, Danny, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

And something told you he didn’t mean himself and your uncle.

He urged himself forward, pressing a hard kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a few seconds, crushing you to his chest, before abruptly letting go. He determinedly strode down the street, meeting your uncle on the sidewalk with a firm nod.

Before he disappeared, he turned once more to you and added, “I’ll see you again.”

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

If Joel could give voice to the crushing weight of a broken heart or the sudden unwillingness to yield to the innate response to keep going, he still wouldn't be able to properly identify it as true sorrow.

He still couldn’t quite pin it – anger, disbelief, pity … guilt. Everything had happened so fast, as they always do. But never to him. Calculations and planning, pure thought – the things he was used to and relied heavily on simply because they worked – were nothing compared to the devastation of unpredictability – of spontaneity, the unexpected. As cruel as fate could be, as cruel as life itself could be, there was very little possibility that it could bring about something like this – to take something so pure, so innocent, as a life. A child’s life.

A life for a life, he determined.

“Swear?” Sara had asked. Long ago now, it felt like. Something about a birthday cake, but the softness in her voice had sent Joel’s heart pumping with love and affection.

“On my life.”

A woman screamed somewhere to his left. His brow twitched, and, for the first time, he became semi-cognizant of his surroundings. A makeshift medical camp was teeming with victims, families, military and doctors alike, swarming and descending around him. White lab coats and camouflage armor were a hazy swirl as frenzied bodies wheeled grocery carts, gurneys, wheelchairs, beds – anything they could find – all through one Austin plaza.

For one second, one split second, Joel could vividly picture himself and Tommy driving by here on the way to pick up supplies not even two months earlier. He had been laughing, then. Shaking his head at something his brother had said to diffuse his anger for having been late the morning of.

Joel had been clutching a juice box then, too. A ‘good source of vitamin D.’ It felt small and strange in his hand at the time. Foreign. An odd replacement to the coffee usually growing cold in his tired grip. But he had promised her. Even when she threw a smile over her shoulder and clamored out of the truck to bound across her school’s parking lot, he didn’t let the box go until he’d drunk it all. Even when the memory was fading now, lost to a couple of weeks and now permanently overwritten by the last time he’d dropped her off, Joel could still feel the box.

Small. Strange. Like the last image of her now boring into the backs of his eyelids – curling and uncurling her failing grip in his t-shirt with every gasping breath.

Out of nowhere, a woman screamed again. Not loud enough to startle him from whatever depth he was losing his footing in, but still loud. Loud enough to draw the attention of nearby soldiers, who rapidly trained their weapons toward her. They didn’t shoot. They didn’t stand down either.

The woman was on her knees in the middle of all the chaos. A nurse unknowingly side-stepped a soldier and nearly tripped over the wailing woman. She didn’t notice of course. She just knelt there, rocking and shrieking. It took a moment for Joel to notice the small body she was clutching in her hands. A girl. Straight, dark hair thick and spiraling, down her mother’s lap and nearly sweeping the concrete. Her legs were dangling, bedazzled skechers limp and uncanny. There was a trail of blood leading from a misshapen wound – like indents left from teeth – on the girl’s left calf.

He looked away.

“Joel.” A voice came. Hardly recognizable. Seconds later, Tommy appeared in front of him, hands gripping his forearms and eyes pleadingly searching Joel’s countenance with growing anxiety. “Joel, c’mon now. Talk to me, brother. Say something.”

He did say something, though it didn’t quite reach Tommy’s ears. He was muttering, balancing himself on the perch of the old gurney beneath him and rocking himself slightly.

“On my life,” Joel muttered, continuously, trapped in an earlier memory. An earlier conversation. With the only one who mattered.

“Alright, well,” Tommy started, dropping one hand as he scanned the surrounding area. “We need to get you something to cover that hand.” He turned his attention back to Joel, leaning down and pushing forward to take up Joel’s entire field of vision. “I’ll be back, you hear me? Don’t move.”

He was gone almost as fast as he came. At his words, Joel’s eyes dropped to his hand, the one he’d been unconsciously cradling in his lap. Blood dripped, unceremoniously, down the valley of his palm and onto the cracked pavement under his boots. He vaguely remembered lashing out at some guy before being ushered into the camp. In front of some convenience store. He had landed roughly, shards of glass impaling his skin before Tommy got the chance to haul him up and press him to keep running.

There wasn't a single part of him that felt it, though. The gaping wound – the whole ordeal – seemed like a hallucination, like something plucked from the deepest, most submerged part of his consciousness. Something hardly thinkable. Something vicious and unnerving. Something that simply couldn’t be true.

“Dad … Daddy!”

Joel jolted awake. A stray frosting tip fell from his fingers and rolled across the floor until it hit the edge of Sarah’s heel. His vision swam with exhaustion, drowsy eyes sweeping over the kitchen table. A half frosted cake, a bit lopsided and slightly whiter than the yellow version advertised on the box. A frosting bag filled with purple frosting resting precariously on the edge of the table, inches from his hand now numb from laying on it.

In sudden alarm, he turned back to a curious Sarah. “Baby, I –.” When she met his gaze, he just sighed, dropping his shoulders. “What’re you doing up? It’s late.”

“I saw the light,” she said simply.

She bent down, retrieving the frosting tip before ambling over to his side. He watched her every move, weighing every option that popped into his head about what her expression meant. Child-like innocence. Brief reminders of every year he’d spent enjoying her life right before his eyes.

The small gears were shifting in her head; he could see them from here. She was eyeing the cake, if he could even call the mound of crumbled blocks a cake. Her gaze momentarily slid toward him as she neared him. She stopped at his side, a small hand on his thigh indicating her intent. He pushed his chair back, hands easily guiding her up and onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” She finally asked.

“Figured I’d try my hand at baking. Construction’s getting slow these days. What’d you think?”

His voice was casual, but he was anything but. He had worried his lip in the aisle of the supermarket just at the thought of buying the wrong cake decorations. The moment of truth had come too soon for him. If he hadn’t been so damn tired, if Tommy had gotten the supplies earlier and hadn’t caused the job to go until ten –

“It’s pretty.”

Her voice startled him, laced with joy and, what seemed like, pleasant surprise. Her back was leaned against him, and he could just make out her face, angled slightly away from him. She was smiling softly at the poor imitation of whatever he’d bought. The only store left open had been out of cake mix, of course. A woman in the aisle with him explained how easily he could make something close to it with this. Easy for her was hell for Joel, but he couldn’t put a price on Sarah’s smile at that moment.

“Thank you. Tried real hard on it.” He was trying for humor, but he meant every word. His attempts were born from a real place – a place that desperately wanted to see her light up the way she did when he forced himself to sit through her favorite movie, when they decorated the Christmas tree early last year, and when he finally let her drive the truck on Tommy’s lap.

The two looked at the excuse for a cake. It was leaning now. A small portion protruding from where Joel attempted to make a flower out of a mold.

“Is it –,” she paused, cautiously, but hopefully, picking her next words. “Is it for me?”

“‘Course, babygirl. This masterpiece of a cake ain’t for just any eight-year-old.”

“I’m not eight yet,” she reminded him. “Except,” she paused again, frowning. “My birthday’s tomorrow.”

“You always wake up so early. Thought I’d try to surprise you by fixin’ it tonight.”

She stared a bit longer before nodding decisively and throwing an arm around his shoulders. She twisted in his lap, eyes and smile beaming up at him. “I would’ve slept in for you.”

Luck. It had to be luck. Joy, devotion, trust, unquestionable love. A child’s eyes swim with all of the above, and one child in particular, his child, was looking at him with all that and more. Her tightly-wound curls framed her small face and swept her tired eyes, but her expression remained the same. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight.

He cleared his throat, hesitant to speak with the growing lump in his throat. “You would’ve pretendin’ to, anyway.” He rose, maneuvering her until he was carrying her comfortably against his hip. “C’mon, now. It’s late. Gotta get to bed if you want your gifts.”

Abruptly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

He smiled, part of him worried his eyes were growing wet. “Anything for you, babygirl. Happy birthday.”

Joel was torn from his stupor at the sight in front of him – the sight he’d been staring at while reliving a memory he felt fading almost as fast as he began to remember it. It was a boy, barely old enough to be a teenager. His tear-stained cheeks were nothing compared to the way his eyes rapidly and wildly scanned the area. His gaze hit Joel’s for only a second before he was moving on.

“Dad!” he was shouting. “Dad!”

The boy was turning in circles, looking every which way and shouting into the sea of unknown faces. Every so often he was jostled by complete strangers – unnamed faces covered in weaponry, medication, or grief. One man bumped into him so hard he nearly lost his footing. It didn’t matter. It didn’t stop his shouts or his turns or his wild eyes cutting through the masses of people.

“Dad!”

“Dad … Dad!”

Joel turned suddenly, new reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose and hands gripping a cup of coffee – fresh seconds. His elbow was propped against the kitchen table he had been occupying for the last hour, mountains of papers and file folders splayed across the tabletop along with a black pen resting atop an unfinished tax document. With Sarah now in sight, his eyes briefly scanned the backyard through the patio-door window, where he’d last seen her playing soccer with Tommy.

His brother, of course, now leaned against their fence with a shit-eating grin on his face as the woman he was talking to from his neighbor’s yard threw her head back in laughter.

Of course.

Joel’s eyes turned back to Sarah, breathing in feigned annoyance. “What? Jesus, you keep calling my name like that you’re gonna dad me to death.”

She snorted. “If I wanted that, I’d do it more like this – Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Da–.”

“No, now that’s more like it.”

With a shake of her head, and a small smile, she wandered closer to him with a simple, “What’re you doin’?”

“Takin’ a break from you.”

She ignored him, stepping close enough to peer over the table. Normally, Joel would shoo her away with an obvious hint that she shouldn’t concern herself with whatever was his job. He didn’t like her looking or hearing about their situation in any way, good or bad. She was supposed to be thinking about soccer and school and zoos and the fair he and Tommy were taking her to later that week. Not any of this.

After a moment, he finally did; he abruptly moved forward, reaching and shuffling the papers into a messy stack.

“Nothing you have to worry about, honey, it’s –”

“Line eight E is repeated three times.”

He froze. “What?”

“Line eight, letter ‘E.’ It’s repeated three times.” For emphasis, she pointed down at the document closest to her.

Joel picked up the paper, letting the black pen slide off of it and land with a soft thud on the paper beneath it. She was right. There was no denying she was right. “Huh.”

“‘Sometimes it’s good to have a second pair of eyes,’” she quoted him, turning and strolling to the cabinet to retrieve a bag of chips. He’d told her that when he let her replace the axle nuts on her bike tire. She’d sworn the nuts wouldn’t rotate until he came over to help. The sentiment worked then, and it was working now. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Dad.”

He gave her a look, brows furrowing, but her back was turned. She busied herself pouring chips into a bowl. He tried for humor again, responding, “I’m never by myself. I got Tommy breathin’ down my neck every day. He’s all the help I need.”

The only indication of her response was a slight shake of her head, curly hair brushing, back and forth, between her shoulder blades. A quiet huff, something close to a laugh, escaped her.

“We’re also out of milk.” She threw a reply over her shoulder casually, very obviously avoiding turning around.

For a long moment, his eyes were still trained on her. It took a mental connection, a moment of realization, for his brows to lift slightly. His gaze slid over to a purple sticky note hanging diagonally on the refrigerator. Her frilly handwriting, turned cursive upon entering middle school, etched out ‘Get milk from the store!’ in large letters.

“That’s what the note on the fridge is for?”

She remained silent but finished making her snack, ambling back to his side and taking a seat in the chair beside him. There was no need for her to respond, but Joel’s nerves went into overdrive at any and all underlying insinuations. Was she worried about something? Worse yet, was she worried about him?

“Where’s all this coming from?” he continued.

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “You just work so much. More than usual. I just thought – Least I can do is help you some.”

“You really wanna help out around here, maybe you can finally get a job,” he tried, verbally poking fun. “Pick up a few hours.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

She briefly smiled at him, but the act ended as soon as it began. It was clear something was bothering her. Worry was etched between her brows, and it was then Joel realized that’s how she’d been looking at him all month. Eyes wide and deep with concern; brows furrowed with a tight smile that didn’t seem quite as natural anymore. His heart nearly broke, and he cleared his throat to hide his upset.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I work a lot, and I’m not … around as much as I used to be. I’ll do better. I will. But there’s nothing you need to be worryin’ about.”

She only nodded before adding a soft, “I know.”

“Good. So you also know I love you, babygirl. Not much I wouldn’t do for ya.”

“I know.”

“That all?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I love you too, dad.”

“That all?”

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna ‘dad you to death.’”

“Oh yeah,” he teased, leaning forward to swipe a few chips from her bowl. He flung one towards her, grinning when a laugh erupted that she couldn’t quite contain. Popping the rest of the chips in his mouth, he warned, “Stop playing with your food.”

The sound of laughter, even from a memory, felt jarring, too rich and too pure for the dark scene unfolding around him. He was long-since aware of his eyes growing wet, and, for once, he didn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to fear or worry about it. He just stared – from the shrieking woman to the shouting boy to the wide, suddenly imposing, city landscape in the distance. It all felt void, lacking meaning in a meaningless world.

What was to be gained from this? What did any of them gain from anything?

Someone ran by, bumping into Joel’s gurney and swearing a harsh apology in the process. Or maybe just swearing. He couldn’t quite place it, and he didn’t try to. But the action was enough to remind him of his being; his body felt weightless as he drifted from distant memories to distant memories, deliberately failing to grasp one long enough to replace the bitter nightmare threatening to replay itself, over and over again. Maybe if he’d twisted the other way. Or took a chance on running. Or held her a little tighter. Or –

The gurney suddenly felt rough where his hands were gripping the edge, knuckles white and blistering. Now he could sense pain from his open wound. And maybe that was the point. To sense, to feel, something other than what was threatening to send him spiraling. The recent events were still forming pictures in his mind. Consolidation taking its time as depictions kept reordering and restructuring themselves. Building and tearing down again. It was like his brain refused to settle on any one experience.

Because they were all wrong. It was all wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this.

Emotions had yet to hit him like a brick wall, and, quite frankly, he didn’t want them to. Not now. Not ever. Sensations were returning, sporadically. There was only one he settled on. He vaguely remembered Tommy slipping a handgun into the waistband of his jeans earlier, telling him he might need it before hoisting him to his feet and pushing him to run. To run like his life had depended on it. Even if he was forced to leave his entire life – a child – lying on the cold ground behind him.

That was the sensation he focused on: the hard lick of metal curling its cool touch against his lower back.

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Waiting is just as agonizing as not. You still couldn’t quite decide if you wanted time to go faster or to go slower. You were, however, determined to maintain as much control over the situation as possible. If Danny could manage a calm head, so could you, for his sake and in his absence. You made sure your aunt was comfortable, reassuring her with a few pats on the shoulder after she’d sunken to the ground. Your cousins kept near her, staring up at you with pure curiosity.

You wondered if they understood, or just how much they understood. For their sake, you hoped they hadn’t a clue. If their silence was any indication, you were sure they were fine, probably more so worried about their mother’s – your aunt’s – tear-stained cheeks than anything else.

You tried your best not to glance at the street entrance every minute, but your head was on a swivel. Time itself seemed to stand still. How could you not wish you could do the same? Stand still, as if holding your breath might make it easier to hear your brother’s footsteps come back to you. His footsteps – loud, heavy, familiar.

That’s what you were thinking about when your uncle stumbled through the mouth of the side street he’d left you in. A purple bruise was forming on the lower left side of his jaw. A streak of blood ran across the chest of his gray shirt. Most disturbing of all, he was completely and utterly alone.

“We’ve got to go,” he said.

He hurried right by you, taking long strides towards his family. After checking his wife and daughter, he crouched and busied himself zipping his son’s jacket.

“Where’s Danny?” You asked.

The question hung in the air – thick and unanswered. He ignored you. Easily. His eyes remained pinned to his son’s body as his fingers fumbled, first with the jacket and then with the cuff of his son’s jeans.

“Where is he?” You were still calm, then. With no answer, you pulled back and stepped cautiously toward the end of the street, looking down where he’d come from. When no one else came by, you returned to your place a few feet away from your family. “Where’s Danny?”

All action and thought cease to exist when laughter brings forth pure, adulterated delight. Especially for a six-year-old child. Laughter and millions of innocent giggles bubble over and make it easy for small feet to run freely. Untamed footsteps can easily fall in line with grass and get lost to rows and rows of trees.

Lost. So, so lost.

You stood in the middle of a clearing. At some point, your laugh had burned down to a chuckle, then to silence, when you realized how far you’d made it alone. Your brother had teased you, playfully giving chase about a mile back, and you had wonderfully ran and leapt over branches and small creeks. Even climbed over a small boulder. You only came to a stop when your echoes seemed too quiet for two.

“Danny?” You called to no one in particular. “Where are you?”

It only took a moment for the beautiful chirps and snaps of branches to seem daunting, not tranquil. Terrifying, not serene. The stillness of it all threatened to suffocate you and evoke fear where you didn’t think it previously possible. You wanted to back away, but your foot had already nearly slipped on a slick mud spot.

Your eyes bounced, wildly, from one tree trunk to another. An unfamiliar feeling coiled up your back and settled at the base of your neck. The sun was starting to slink toward the horizon then. Which way had you come from? What would happen if you didn’t make it back home? What if Danny had gotten hurt, and you hadn’t both to hear him or stop for him? Had you left him somewhere?

“Danny!”

There was no answer. Only the distant sound of water trickling over rocks and another quick snap of a tree branch waving in the wind. Hot tears trickled down your face as you dropped down, sitting and pulling your knees under your chin. You were lost, but, above all, you had lost your brother.

“Hey, little sis, look what I found!” You nearly jumped out of your skin, twisting around to see Danny stepping around a bush and joining you in the clearing. He looked up to proudly present you with a small frog, cupped carefully in the palms of his hands. “Wanna name him?”

For a moment, you stayed right where you were. A soft cry escaped your lips, but there was an early sense of relief flooding every part of your small frame. You still hadn’t relaxed your furrowed brows or the frown that wound tightly on your face. Fear had gripped you, and you were beginning to realize it was the hardest thing to shake.

It only took Danny a second to realize you were crying, and only a second longer to bound over to your side and drop to his knees. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He set the frog down on a dry patch of grass before fixing an intense stare on you. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, sucking in a breath and releasing a broken sob. “I – I thought you were gone.”

Danny’s shoulders dropped a bit. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He reached out and set a hand on your shoulder. “I would never leave you, okay?”

You nodded, and he dropped his hand. He let you take a few breaths and calm down a bit before he stood to his feet.

“I think we should go back now. It’s getting dark.” He stuck out his hand, pulling you to your feet when you slipped your hand into his. “Do you remember our secret handshake?”

“Yes.”

An easy grin graced his features once more. “Good, you can show me when we make it back home.”

He moved to leave, but you pulled him back. Your hand fell from his and pointed down at the frog. “What about the frog?”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t have a name.” He stood back and looked at you expectantly. “I think we should call him Rex.”

Danny nodded, pretending to be lost in thought for a moment. He tapped his chin with the tip of his finger before smiling down at you. “I like Rex. It’s cool.”

Your smile returned, and you skipped out of the clearing, grabbing Danny’s hand as you went. That’s how it was, and that’s how it should be, when an older brother is so near – when another’s presence soothes the quiet that only loneliness can bring about. Your tears had dried and a glimmer of tranquility returned to the noises in the air and the stillness of the environment. A feeling of safety returned soon after, too, and the discomfort of fear had fallen without your notice.

His word was enough: I would never leave you.

You half expected him to scare you like he had when you were children. To step around the wall and stumble towards you, completely oblivious to your worries and concerns about his whereabouts. You would berate him, maybe smack his arm or chest for sending your nerves into overdrive, but you would most likely pull him into a hug and look him over for any bruises. You kept glancing in the direction of the street, waiting for an arrival that would never come.

“Where’s Danny?”

“Honey,” your aunt tried, giving your uncle a sincere look that read: Please answer your niece.

He ignored her too, setting his hands firmly on his son’s shoulders and giving him a nod. He looked at his son intently, probably trying to reassure him with just one look. With the state the world was currently in, words were starting to fail. All anyone could do was offer some sense of familiarity in gestures and in looks.

But that wasn’t enough for you. It never would be.

In desperation, you moved to grab at your uncle’s shirt. “Where is he? Where’s D–.”

Your uncle stood abruptly, whipping around to face you. You were nearly chest to chest as he leered down at you. “He’s not coming back.”

Your response was immediate, taking a step back as if someone had punched you squarely in the chest. “Wha– What?”

A long, silent moment went by. You could just make out the screaming crowd now nothing but a soft, inaudible sound to your ears. Your uncle dropped his gaze. He looked almost guilty for not being able to offer you the reprieve you were obviously searching for – the answer he just couldn’t give you.

“He’s not coming back, kid,” he said, softer this time. “I– I’m sorry.”

He turned, picking up his son and grabbing his wife’s arm to hoist her up with him. Your aunt held her daughter close to her chest, unable to meet your eyes. There was another moment of silence between you all. They stood there, uncertain. Your uncle refused to meet your eyes for longer than a second, flitting his gaze from you to the street behind you. It was the sound of another military vehicle that finally made him straighten his posture and look you in the eye.

“You need to get out of here. It’s not safe out in the open.”

He turned to jog further down the street, in the opposite direction of where you’d all entered originally. That’s when your aunt offered you a sincere look. “Come with us.”

You made no effort to move. Your feet were cemented to the soiled street; Your eyes still glued to your uncle’s distressed countenance. His words were the only thing you heard: He’s not coming back.

“C’mon, Lorraine. We need to go.”

“We can’t just leave her here, David.”

The military truck came louder now just as the backdoor to the bar slammed open. A man stumbled through the door and landed in a heap of tangled limbs on the ground. A low growl escaped him as his hands fisted the concrete, and he doubled over, twice, in obvious pain. His brown hair was awry, fingers caked in something you couldn’t quite place. The back of his shirt was ripped in various places, and his veiny flesh was exposed; skin long since too inhumane to not deserve the look you gave him. Your eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

The man’s head snapped up, wild eyes looking directly at your aunt.

“C’mon, Lorraine!” Your uncle shouted louder, backing away and pulling his son tighter to his chest. “We gotta go now!”

Your aunt stayed there, frozen in fear. You took a step back, foot catching in a small puddle and sending the man’s horrid attention barreling toward you. The break in harsh scrutiny was all your aunt needed. She took that moment to hug her daughter close and sprint after your uncle. Their retreating footsteps hit like lead to your chest, every step sending you reeling backward as your chest heaved with something closer to alarm than fear.

The man shrieked, scrambling to his feet and running toward you. For a moment, your eyes slid to your aunt and uncle’s distant figures just over his shoulder. A part of you half-expected them to chance a look back, to answer their curiosity about you and your wellbeing. But they didn’t. They didn’t spare a single look, even when they turned sharply and disappeared around a corner.

A deep pain began to throb, harsher now, from the spot Danny had been gripping your arm. The man was within arms length now, hand reaching out to grab that same arm – the arm Danny had held protectively in place.

Your body reacted quicker than you did. You weren’t sure you would’ve reacted at all, if not for the slightest inkling, the slightest hope, that Danny was still out there, somewhere close. Who would come for him if you didn’t?

With a surprised yelp, you turned on your heels and sprinted toward the street entrance – toward the street Danny disappeared down not even thirty minutes before. Gnashing teeth and a horrible stench followed you closely, squirming and throwing itself at you like an animal. You had made it only a few feet in the street before the man tackled you to the ground. Pain erupted from your knees and elbows as you fell with a sharp cry.

A hand pulled your hair, clothes, arms, just about everything fingers could find purchase. You twisted sharply, coming face to face with the man. His teeth came dangerously close to your face and, on instinct, you brought your forearm up to his neck, pushing him away with as much strength as you could muster. You gritted your teeth, but a scream soon ripped from your throat as his upper body pushed further and further down on you. Closer and closer until –

A shot rang out, and the man’s body went limp.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The finality of acceptance had still escaped Joel. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to take anything in that moment as truth, no matter how outlandish it might have been.

Two white coats rushed by, stopping mere feet away. Even among the chaos, their conversation was easy enough to overhear.

“I have a dad asking after his kid.”

“Everyone’s asking after someone.”

“Yeah, but she was here when they arrived. Apparently lost her in all the confusion.”

“Take him to triage. A lot of missing kids there. We just revived one.”

Joel looked up at the new truth being presented to him – a truth that was far easier to accept than the one bombarding his current experience. His feet were carrying him away from his spot of refuge before he could even think. In fact, he wasn’t thinking. He was scanning for her. Curly hair. Eyes looking for him as much as his eyes were looking for her.

We just revived one.

If there was a possibility she was here, he was willing to take it. He had already accepted that possibility as fact without his own notice. His heart was elated and his chest was rising just at the thought. It was easier, fairer. And in no way was he preparing, or thinking to prepare, for the inevitable crash that always took place when attempting to deny reality.

“By nine, Dad.” Sarah hopped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. She went to Tommy’s side, hand clamping down on the opened window and eyes boring into her Dad from where he sat in the passenger seat. “You said nine.”

“I know, I know.”

She opened her mouth to add something, but the bell cut her off. She huffed in resignation before pointing at the two of them, each in turn. With a growing smile, she waved and ran towards her school, throwing a quick “Don’t forget the cake!” over her shoulder.

Just as Tommy pulled out of the lot, his eyes slid over to his brother, and his face twisted into a wide grin he couldn’t hide even if he tried. “Jesus, that kid loves you to death.”

At that, Joel couldn’t hide his own smile, even if the weight of Tommy’s words felt heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah, I know.”

A content quiet fell between the two as Tommy maneuvered out of the school lot. Once he was back on the road, his eyes drifted toward his brother a few times before he shook his head. He always did that when something was on his mind but didn’t know quite how to approach it. Especially when it was Joel he was trying to approach.

“I tell you what, Joel. You gotta cut back.”

Joel was no stranger to the topic Tommy was attempting to bring up. He knew he was working like a madman again, picking up projects and stumbling into the house late at night often long after Sarah had put herself to bed.

Still. He acted oblivious. “What do you mean?”

“Sarah, man. You gotta cut back. Spend more time with her. I know you mean well. You want to provide for her, protect her. I respect that, Joel. Hell, everybody sees and respects that. But she’s still young. Still needs you. It won’t be like that always. She’s got a bright future ahead of her. Nothing’s going to take that from her. From you. Nothing’s going to change that. You don’t have to work so damn hard just to keep it that way.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but he offered his brother a brief nod when he glanced in his direction. They both knew he was right.

“Besides,” Tommy continued with a teasing grin, “you need to get a hold on her before she gets too much older. If she’s anything like we were, they’ll be hell to pay.”

Joel grunted. “Nu uh, my Sarah’s too smart. I ain’t worried ‘bout nothing.”

“You say that now.”

“And I’ll say it then.” Joel nodded decisively. “It’s like you said, she’s got a bright future ahead of her.”

“I know, brother, I know. All I’m saying is that you should make the most of it now. These years will be gone before you know it.” Tommy turned to look at him, more intensely this time. “She’ll be gone before you know it.”

The children were many, but the number that resembled her were few. The child they had revived was a boy no older than four and had been revived for reasons unbeknownst to Joel. The inevitable crash of secret humiliation and embarrassment at his own deception led him to a corner, away from the frenzy and uproar in the camp. Two soldiers stood, with their backs toward him and weapons drawn, with their heads on a swivel. But they paid no attention to Joel. Even with the cool metal resting in his hands, safety off and finger poised at the ready. They still paid him no mind. He might as well have been a dead man.

Should’ve been, anyway.

On my life. Not yours, babygirl.

With that thought, he was ready for anything that might come after. Truth be told, he was more than ready. He wanted to pull the trigger, so he did.

But he flinched. Even before the bullet had left its chamber, a part of him was wholly certain that any shot or amount of lead was not meant for him. It was a destiny he was never meant to share, no matter how much he wanted to.

–

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Four pairs of hands were on you and hauling you to your feet before you could reassess your situation any further. The body slid off of you as you were pulled to your feet; its weight made a sickening noise as it thumped to the pavement at your feet. You were being dragged to an armored truck filled with people – men, women, children. Greedily, you scanned the faces for the only one that mattered. Maybe they’d got him. Maybe they’d saved him, too.

There were a lot of people, but none resembled Danny.

Finally, something broke – anger, bitterness, nauseous … mostly anger. You dug your heels into the pavement, nearly sending one soldier tripping over his feet at your sudden protest. You took the moment of surprise as an opportunity to rip your arm free from his grasp, shoving him away and clawing at the hand still clamped firmly around your other arm. You tried desperately to free yourself, scratching and pulling like your life depended on it. Like Danny’s life depended on it.

“No!” You shouted. “No! Get off me!”

Your doorknob rattled before your brother let himself in, closing the door softly behind him as if he hadn’t already made a world of noise just by entering.

“Jesus,” you started, sitting up in bed, “don’t you know the first thing about knocking?”

“I’ll knock when you stop stealing my sweatshirts from my room.”

Childishly, you stuck out your tongue and crossed your arms. “Fair.”

Without missing a beat, he took three long strides toward your window and looked out, smiling down at something. Undoubtedly his friend’s car, waiting for him in the driveway. “I’m heading out.”

“When are you not?”

“Just open the window for me when I get back, alright?” You got up to join him by the window as he opened it. “I won’t be too late this time.”

“I’m starting to think you like asking for trouble.”

He turned to smile at you – soft, mischievous, winning. Your brother could just as easily ask to leave the house, but he preferred sneaking out. He was defiant just to be defiant, doing so in a way that still made him agreeable and likable. Roping you into his mischief was like a sibling rite of passage, as he put it.

Despite yourself, you smiled back before watching him clamor out of your window. He crouched on the roof, turning to flash you one last smile. “Don’t forget my knock.”

“Three knocks.”

“Always three so you know it's me.” He winked.

“You say that like anyone else would be knocking on my window at one in the morning.”

“You’re right. Because you’re lame.”

“Go before I push you off the roof.”

He grinned widely before turning and inching his way toward the edge. He immediately stopped when you called his name.

“Danny,” you said softly. He looked over his shoulder. “If anything ever happens, don’t be afraid to call the house. I’ll come get you myself if I have to.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m serious, Danny.”

“Relax. I know my fearsome sister will always come to my rescue.” He gave a mock salute before jumping down to the lawn. He ran toward the idle car before turning back toward you, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “Three knocks!”

When the soldier had recomposed himself, he walked back toward you and yanked your arm, much harder this time. Your outburst drew the attention of the others on the vehicle. A mom pulled her child closer to her, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was still out there, missing, and not a single person seemed to give a damn.

“Get off me!” You screamed again, voice breaking as a tear slipped down your cheek. In frustration, you sent a swift kick that the soldier sidestepped easily. “Get off me!”

One soldier finally let you go as the other wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off your feet and carrying you the rest of the way to the awaiting vehicle. Your struggle was rendered useless as he carried you with ease, tossing you onto the truck like you meant nothing. You probably didn’t, not to him and not to anyone. But you knew you meant something to Danny, and you weren’t going to go down without him. Not without a fight.

You pushed off the bed of the truck, attempting to scramble off of it and back onto the street. “Danny!” You shouted, pushing a stranger out of your way and making a quick jump for it. “Danny!”

You were sure you were still calling his name, even when the butt of a gun connected with the side of your forehead.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The sound of a weapon firing draws a lot of attention. Namely from uniformed soldiers who were to make sure all civilians had been thoroughly searched and weapons properly confiscated before entering the medical camp. The mistake was sure to cause one of them trouble, which is probably why they tackled Joel with such ferocity. He was on the ground and surrounded by military and medical personnel before he could blink.

Tommy was shouting his name again, parting the crowd roughly as he clawed his way to his brother. White bandages gripped in his hand. He was searching for him, relentlessly, before catching sight of the commotion. All the while, Joel was calm. The realization hadn’t dawned on him yet; the adrenaline of the deed he was trying to commit had not yet worn off. He was delusional with the loss of will – his volition having been stripped from him through no effort of his or anyone else’s.

For a second, he let himself believe he was dead. Like some instinctual force hadn’t just caused him to flinch.

Someone hoisted him to his feet; all while someone, most likely Tommy, was shouting, “Don’t shoot him! Don’t shoot him!”

A doctor stepped forward. She flashed a light in his eyes. “Sir. Sir? Can you hear me?”

A trickle of blood slid past his peripheral. It dawned on him that the commotion around him was real – it was happening – and his unfocused eyes finally snapped toward the soldier gripping his arm. His unfeeling expression hidden under his helmet felt familiar. Too familiar.

“Joel,” Tommy warned. He knew his brother well enough to predict his intent. He stepped forward, cautiously, trying but failing to shoo the soldiers and doctors back. He momentarily looked between the wound on Joel’s head and the discarded gun on the ground. He hesitated, partially, but hesitated all the same. “He ain’t sick or nothing.” Tommy turned from the doctors back to Joel. “Joel, listen to me, brother. Let’s get you patched up, alright? Let’s ge–.”

Joel was swinging before he knew what he was doing. He lunged, kicked, and swung wildly, nearly ripping himself from the awkward grip now three soldiers had him in. They were strong; non compliant. They wrestled with him for a moment before another doctor ushered him away.

“Here,” the doctor was saying, “bring him over here.”

“Careful, I said he ain’t sick,” Tommy butt in, grimacing at the hold they had on his brother. “Joel, calm down. Everything’ll be okay, Joel. Just — Just calm down.”

The soldiers were dragging him to a nearby gurney. A few medical personnel were preparing a syringe somewhere off to his right. He sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight, and every single thing he was doing was an indication of that. Somewhere, deep down, he could hear his brother. Calling for him to stop. Calling for him to settle down before they did something to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Maybe they should do something to him. Put him out of his misery. Or subject him to the same fate they subjected her to. It was a cruel thought that they’d spare him – that they’d do everything in their power not to hurt him in the way they hurt her.

They were wrestling him onto his back when his mouth finally caught up to his actions.

“My daughter!” He shouted. “My daughter. You took her.” He leered in the face of the nearest soldier, tears glistening in his eyes. “You took her.”

A needle was being pressed into his skin when a third voice spoke to him, calmly. Another doctor. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find her. I’m sure, wherever she is, she’ll be alright, if she’s not already.”

His next protests were weak as his body suddenly relaxed. His eyes fluttered just as Tommy came into view at his side. Tommy just stared at him. Horrified. Guilty. Sad. They both looked at each other, eyes mirroring one another and telling stories neither one of them were ready to say aloud.

–

2023.

The consequence of grief and sudden loss might be unique to the individual, but it is imminent for all individuals. No one can measure the actions or reactions of another. Neither can blame be given or taken away. The repercussions of any event are often cyclical, far outweighing descriptions or explanations. In any one situation, one might fall and another might rise. Or perhaps one and another might both fall.

With loss, it’s typically the latter.

Joel’s gruff appearance was unmistakable to the people in the Boston QZ. Unsurprising. Like the rumor that swirled around about him after the day’s shifts ended and the people could return to their nightly rituals of whatever placated their poor souls — beer, pills, sex. The former two either stolen or traded for rations.

The rumor didn’t spread far — not past a block, maybe a sector at most. It was a cautious one. A woman told of her inability to toss a child’s body to the flames during her shift. An unforgiving job. A thankless act of service to the QZ that meant discarding the ones killed at the hands of those in authority — by Fedra. Infected. Suspected. Guilty (or not). Didn’t matter. Her story was one that stoked plenty of bitter, angry people who already hated the QZ for their wrongs and misdoings.

But it was Joel who stoked their feelings too — feelings of fear and avoidance. Wordlessly, he had tossed the lifeless child into the awaiting flames with as much absence of emotion as he always displayed. Unfeeling. Unapproachable. Never spoke a word but was somehow enough all on his own – enough to cause others to steer clear, to look away whenever he came around.

The only one that could tolerate him, that could placate him, was Tess. Something she could use to her advantage and soak in the pleasure of.

Nearly a thousand miles away, you were pacing wordlessly outside a freezer in the back of a restaurant in downtown Chicago. A bitter cry had long-since been muted by the sounds of grunts and a flurry of punches before a familiar face stepped out. He didn’t say anything, even when he walked right by you and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.

You did as you always did — followed at his heels. “I don’t trust this guy, Dallas. He’s lying.”

“You never trust anyone.” His face was serious, but his voice carried humor. You rolled your eyes.

“And for good reason. He’s been lying since I found him by the old medical camp near Lincoln Park.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

He turned to look at you, eyes boring into yours for a few seconds. You were dropping your gaze before the intensity of it all could get too thick. For a moment, your attention bounced around the small kitchen. Your ears caught the quiet voices of your group outside — a good mix of men and women.

Dallas turned fully, tossing the rag on the floor and standing in front of you with arms crossed over his chest. “What were you doing near the old med bay?”

“I told you.” Your voice had a dangerous edge to it. You shifted your weight to your other foot and finally met his gaze again. “I ran an errand.”

Unconvinced, Dallas nodded. “You were looking for him again, weren’t you?”

He commanded and barked orders well. You usually followed them — usually. But even he wasn’t stupid enough to mention his name aloud to you. Your sibling’s name was never spoken again after you revealed to Dallas that dark night twenty years earlier. But Dallas knew this was about him. He could tell in the way a muscle in your jaw jumped, and you looked away briefly.

He chuckled. Dark. Low. “Look, I get it. You haven’t been back here in years, and I figured the thought of finding him’s been tempting you since Arizona. But you keep putting the group at risk, and I’ll have to abandon you.”

You snorted. “As if you’d leave me behind.”

“Watch me.”

He was grinning, a certain humor in his tone that wasn’t in the least bit light or airy. There was nothing indicating that he wasn’t as serious as his darkened eyes meant to be. Something twisted in your stomach, heart plummeting, as your smile dropped at the thought. Only a moment went by before you forced the feeling away, choking the thick emotions down until the only thing you could feel was cold metal being pushed into your hand.

“If you don’t trust him,” Dallas muttered, stepping closer to you as he pressed the gun into your limp palm a bit firmer, “then end it.”

You swallowed quietly, taking the weapon and testing its weight without once looking up at him. You could feel him hovering over you. His heat dripped off of him and pooled at your feet. Deep. Menacing. Unforgiving. His request wasn’t the first time, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. But this time, this one time, some part of you felt off. Something tugged at your lips until you unknowingly frowned down at the tigger your finger hovered over.

Maybe it was the mention of him. Maybe your emotions were too high and your willingness finally waning. Maybe it was the sister waiting back at the old medical camp, looking for the brother you helped kidnapped and now held hostage in some worn-down freezer.

“Is this really necessary?” You asked. “If he’s really lying, we can still use him.”

“And have them get to him? He’s a damn liar, sure, but he’s a traitor first. He knows what we did.”

“Yeah, but he did the same to them.” You finally looked back up at him, gun held loosely at your side. “For us. Remember? What else did we expect? For him not to turn on us, too?”

Dallas was quiet for a moment, a long moment. But the way he was peering down at you, with hooded eyes and clenched teeth, didn’t change for a second. “I’ve never stopped to question you. We are the only two here. I never left you.”

You knew what he was referencing. Suddenly the group just beyond the thin white door separating the kitchen from the dining area seemed too close, too imposing. Every person in your group was a new face. Their voices were still unfamiliar and discomforting to hear. Your old companions were either dead or dying, snitching to Fedra for brownie points or taking their chances on their own, and Dallas was all you had left...

He measured the look on your face before leaning in further, adding, “Now’s your chance to prove your loyalty to me.”

Your eyes snapped up at him, mouth now partially agape. Everything you had done leading up to this point had been erased by that measly sentence. Your actions, however gruff and unforgiving, were whittled to nothing before your eyes, and you were made out to be a fraud. Weak. Someone incapable of returning the favor of protection or dishing it out in the first place. The thought made you sick.

With a low huff, you spun on your heels and walked determinedly back to the freezer. You threw open the door to find your old partner, Brett, tied haphazardly to a chair surrounded by two of your guys. At the sight of you, his eyes were blown wide and head shook furiously from side to side. He was shouting something: No. No. No— please, no. But you were already gone, doomed to proving what you had already proved time and time again.

It only took one steady aim before you pulled the trigger.

Your men stood, jaw slack, as Brett’s body fell with a sickening thump. Your knees suddenly felt wobbly as adrenaline seeped from your body in waves, nearly doubling over as a pain hit your chest. You sniffed, waving the barrel of the gun between the two men before pointing it in Brett’s direction.

“Clean this up.”

Perhaps — for you and for Joel and for anyone else — the mind and body’s first instinct is denial. Perhaps sorrow cannot be given a true voice. Perhaps acceptance is far more brutal than the precious time one can spare living a half truth. Whatever the reason, manifestations of pain and suffering matter little when grief goes unnoticed and the heart unattended.

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